Estrella

Chapter 9: Pig

***Nine years ago***
Estrella POV: age 10.

They were supposed to be home at five. They were always home at five.

They were home at four.

Dinner wasn't cooked, the trash wasn't taken out, the folded laundry wasn't put away yet.

I heard their car in the driveway and panicked.

Last time dinner wasn't ready when they were home... things got bad.

Bad for me at least.

There was nothing I could do, so I stood in the corner with my head bowed.

That was one of my rules; keep your head down.  Vivian said it was because it made Mom and Dad upset to see such an ugly face. I didn't particularly think my face was ugly, but it must be true since she said it.

Mom and Dad said Vivian was always right.

I heard their playful chatter outside and a deep feeling of pain and confusion settled in my ten year old heart.

Why couldn't I be a part of it? Was I that unpleasant?

I heard the door open and they made their way from the foyer into the large kitchen that they use when they didn't have guests over.

They have a separate room for that.

I felt their gazes on me and I felt my cheeks heat up. I never liked being the center of attention.

That was Vivian's job.

"Where's the food, bitch?" My dad slightly slurred.

Great. He had been drinking. It's never good when he'd been drinking.

"Aye, fatass, your father is talking to you." My mother screeched at me.

My throat constricted and I couldn't breathe. I tried to part my cracked lips to answer, but I couldn't. Pure fear was coursing through my body.

Vivian walked over to me with a malicious glint in her eyes.

"I don't think she knows how to speak," she poked my forehead with her perfectly manicured hand, "Pigs usually don't."

My Mom and Dad erupted in laughter.

Tears stung my eyes, begging to be cried. Yet, I couldn't cry, it would only make it worse.

"Yeah it seems this pig also can't cook dinner on time like she's supposed to." My Mom said, stalking closer to me, until she stopped right in-front of me.

Her brand new Gucci boots and my dirty bare feet did not look right next to each other on the marble floor.

"She can't even bathe herself correctly. She truly is a pig." Vivian stated, mocking my dirty appearance.

I couldn't help it. They wouldn't allow me to shower and waste their money. The only time I got "clean" was when my punishments involved water.

They were usually the worst.

"Maybe we should teach her how?" Dad suggested, and I wondered if this was normal.

Did kids everywhere get treated like this?

It didn't feel right, and Vivian got treated like the princesses in the stories Mrs. Marina used to tell me when I was little.

I guess I would never know.