Chapter 5: Emotive Inferno

           She found out about the party.
           I had no idea how. She didn't communicate with neighbours. She had no friends. I had thought that the policeman was on our side. But one way or another, she found out about it, and she was very angry.

           Step-mother was quietly angry. She didn't scream. At first, that is. She went outside with Anastasia and Drizella so that I wouldn't know she was punishing them. Of course I could still hear her though. I heard her yelling at Drizella, "You invited filth into our house! MY house! How DARE you!" I had never heard her that angry before, especially not at her daughters. I was a little scared about how she would punish me, the one who always got blamed. I tentatively brushed Lucifer-he needed it-who surprisingly complied. He purred as the shaking brush combed his fur gently. I nearly jumped as step-mother walked in and said, "Cinderella."

           I nervously stepped forwards. She sighed. "I heard about what just about happened to you." I was confused. What had happened to me? She saw my puzzled expression, I suppose, because she added, "With Don Lothario." My gut twisted. How did she find out about it? What would she do now, punish me for it?

           "Step-mother, I don't know what to-"

           She held out a hand, stopping me. "I hope you're okay." I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. What did my step-mother just say? "I was almost raped when I was younger," she continued sadly, gently. It all seemed so real now. Raped. Even the word was filthy. It sounded evil, sinful, bad. Like Don Lothario, it was lecherous. As if someone had snapped their fingers and removed a magical curse, step-mother's frowning face of worry turned to one of anger. She yelled, so my step-sisters could hear, "And don't you ever do that again!"

           And she strode away.

           I rubbed my forehead. From the way she walked away, I knew things would be different-but the same. I would still have to clean, cook, etc. But we would always hold that moment of connection, that moment of fellow woman sympathy. She would listen.

           But really, step-mother's unchanging personality of cruelty broken because I was almost raped? Well, it was reasonable, actually. I wasn't almost raped though, really. I could have fended for myself. I would have kneed him in the groin, stabbed his eyes with my fingers and made a break for it. Even as I thought it, I was dubious though. I probably would have been sexually assaulted if it wasn't for Chad. My heart gushed at the thought of him. So handsome, so gallant. So wonderful. The beeping of the bus horn broke my thoughts, though, and I scrambled onto the bus. Drizella and Anastasia were grouped together this time, whispering to each other about me. They were frightened whispers-scared. They were scared of whatever I would do to them for getting me in trouble. Or at least, I hoped they were.

           Because I sure as hell was going to get back at them.

Everyone was talking about the party. Congratulating me on such a successful and fun party. As if it was my idea. I just smiled and thanked them, though. People I didn't know told me they had a fantastic time-nervous looking freshmen girls, hulking sophomore guys. I nearly fainted when seniors Lawrence Lum and Michael Bachelor told me that they thought the party was awesome, and maybe could I give them my number? They looked so much alike-and they were so cute, so popular, so great. Girls around me shot jealous looks as I blushed furiously, telling them I didn't have a cell but gave them my home phone number nonetheless. It made me sound really lame, but whatever.
           Anastasia and Drizella were incredibly moody. They accepted party compliments with a shrug, and bore deep bags under their eyes. They wore sunglasses and were obviously very hung-over. Anastasia looked really sad-I guess the disappointment of actually not finding a mate was too great for her.

           When I returned home, I had to sit with Anastasia, who was certainly just a bundle of joy. When we arrived home, she screamed at very unexpectantly. "YOU'RE SUCH A LOSER!" she formed an 'L' with hand, and continued. "Why the hell would you tell mother about the party! What is wrong with you!"
           "I DIDN'T TELL STEP-MOTHER ABOUT THE PARTY!" I bellowed back. "She," I experimented with saying 'hit me', but it seemed too harsh. I just shuddered, and said, "You have no idea what she did to me. And it's your fault that I'm in trouble now."
           Anastasia relaxed but then turned stiff again, agitated. "But who would tell step-mother?"
           "Any of the guests," I said wearily, "Any of the neighbours. The police."
           She cocked her head as if it had never occurred to her. "Oh."
           I went inside to fetch step-mother some lunch.

For the few weeks or so, things were pretty quiet. I mopped, I made beds, I paid the bills. School was great-I had lots of friends, and though we couldn't really get together since I was stuck at home doing chores, we always hung out at school. I had at least fifteen close friends that I could always talk to and I knew would do whatever I wanted. Everyone was really great. Well, most people. Some girls whispered nasty things behind my back. One time, I was walking with Maximus McDermott, Trigger Broke, and Bob Newbie when we passed by Dallas Shallow and his sister, MaryKay Shallow. MaryKay started whispering very loudly. "She's such a slut, walking around with three dudes. It's obviously she slept with all of them. I don't know why they would let her!" MaryKay shrieked loudly in her high pitched squeal.
           I could sense Max and Bob stiffen, but Trigger seemed oblivious. Although it was obviously untrue, I could feel my cheeks turn very rosy. "Maybe she's a prostitute?" Dallas said. His sister started laughing, but stopped abruptly when he continued with, "I mean, she is hot. I would totally pay to sleep with her."
           I couldn't hear what his sister retorted with as we walked away, but Trigger nudged me and started laughing. "It's not funny!" I said, red.
           The other two boys laughed as well. "C'mon Cindy, course it is. You're too innocent even know what a prostitute is, let alone sleep with one of us," Bob said.
           "I know what a prostitute is! I'm not an idiot," I retorted.
           Bob's face turned serious. "Guys, how much did you pay her for an hour?"
           I pushed him, but laughed along with the others. I couldn't help it. But inside, it really hurt. Why was I constantly being accused of being cheap? I didn't even dress cheap. Actually, that was ironic, as I dressed-well-poorly.

Lucifer was in a mood. It happened about three times a week, but it was especially bad. He had managed to trap himself in the bathtub, and he was too fat to get out-"Cinderella, go get Lucifer darling out of the bathtub, poor boy."-was all step-mother could lazily say. She screamed less now, thankfully. I think she was tired of it, or maybe the doctor had told her she needed to rest her voice after she lost it for a week. It had been the nicest week of my life. 

           Then Lucifer had been feeling lonely or something-he climbed up onto the counter (I don't understand how he couldn't escape from the tub but could get stuck onto the counter), and started crying like a baby. No exaggeration. Or not really an exaggeration. But he was mewling loudly, and it sounded like someone crying. I ran into the kitchen at the point where he started howling-I had thought someone was in pain-and shooed him off of the counter. Stupid cat. 

            The day it happened had been a very strange day indeed. First, step-mother woke up. Then she screamed, "CINDERELLA!"
           "Yes, step-mother?"
           It was so typical, so routine. But the funny part is that it hadn't happened in a while. Step-mother hadn't screeched at me in forever. She had screeched at Anastasia and Drizella. I was positively giddy when I heard, but I had kept my face blank. Now, step-mother just looked grumpy and tired.
           "Feed Lucifer."
           "Yes, step-mother."
           And so, I fed Lucifer.

           And of course, although that in itself wasn't particularly abnormal, although at this point of time it was a little unusual, what proceeded was the thing that scared me.

           Step-mother cackled, and then rolled her fingers together evilly.

           Completely out of context.

           For no reason.

           Whatsoever. 

           I nearly had a heart attack.

           I mean, it had been apparent for a long time that step-mother was cold-blooded evil, but never bloodthirsty evil. And that cackle.

           Was.

           Bloodthirsty.

           "Cinderella?" Anastasia called, but softly. I didn't even bother replying, but came anyway. She smiled sweetly. "Do my homework, mind you?"

           I didn't bother to correct her sentence which hadn't made any sense, but snatched her homework and with the dirtiest look I could muster, glared at her before walking away. The homework was simply math homework. I grinned. The whole idea of math homework was to learn it. I flipped to the back of the book and just copied the answers down. Anastasia wouldn't notice. Then the telltale snores told me that Drizella and Anastasia had returned to the land of slumber. My head pounded a little, and I could feel the sign of tiredness behind my eyes. I hadn't gotten any sleep the previous night at all. I had to cook dinner again and then clean the toilet, clean the cages, bathe Lucifer (which in itself took a whole hour), and do my own homework as well as other little chores. I had managed an hour of sleep, now that I thought of it, but I felt dizzy all the same. I was going completely on adrenaline.

           I stumbled into the bathroom and started to scrub the bathtub, but I was too tired. My eyelids started to close, and I felt like I was about to slip into unconscious, so I tumbled onto the couch for some shut-eye. I think I was asleep before my head hit the cushion. I have no idea how long I slept for, but it wasn't long. I was woken up by Anastasia passing a gasser in my face.

           "Vulgar," I muttered.

           Drizella was in a strange mood today, but contemptible nonetheless. I peeked through step-mother's window as I was making her bed and saw Drizella feeding Gus and Jack. And I know for a fact that she had messed with the toilet and sink, so I held it in until someone else had used it. 

           I stumbled as I walked around the house aimlessly. "Cinderella! CINDERELLA!" step-mother called. With my eyes feeling very puffy and closing from sheer weakness, I stumbled towards the sound of her snobby voice. My head felt light, and my stomach moaned. My shoulder clicked and I let out an involuntary mutter of pain. "Make me some waffles," step-mother said with disdain as I stumbled towards her.
           Eggs, flour, milk, butter, sugar, baking powder. We were running low on eggs. I would only have half a carton left after this batch of waffles. I would have to buy some more. I tried to force myself to remember, but my head pounded as if to complain about this information. As if going on autopilot, I prepared the ingredients. Melted the butter on the stove. Mixed the flour, sugar, and baking powder. I looked up drowsily as I mixed with my hands I saw step-mother glaring at me. I felt almost guilty, though I had zero reason to. What had I done wrong this time?

           When one batch of waffles was finished, I quickly threw another batch in for Anastasia. I drizzled butter and cheap maple syrup onto the waffles and gave step-mother and Drizella two each. I checked on the waffles-they still had quite a bit to go. I rested my head against the counter. Just a few minutes... 

           I woke to the powerful smell of acrid smoke. My lungs filled with the black gas as it filled the house. Above, the fire detector was screaming so that I felt deaf. "OH MY DEAR GOD!" Drizella screamed, and I knew she was shrieking as loud as possible, but it sounded like a whisper covered up by the shrill warnings of the fire alarm. Drizella ran forward in only a nightie to see the oven wearing a smoke hat. We both started screaming out of fear. "PUT IT OUT!" Drizellla cried. 

           "WITH WHAT, MY PISS?" I screamed back, terrified. 

           "DO SOMETHING!" she yelled, and started actually crying.

           "Dammit," I said, but I couldn't hear myself. I grabbed Drizella's cellphone laying haphazardly on the counter. 9-1-1.

           "Hello, this is 911 emergencies, how may I help you?" A woman answered soothingly.

           "My oven is on fire! Help!" I said, panic stricken. Couldn't she hear the fire alarming blaring? 

           "We will dispatch a fire engine immediately," she assured me. "For now, can you please exit the house and ask those around you to do the same? And can you tell me your address?"

           I gave the address and then told her I needed to hang up. 

           Absently, I noticed the uneaten plate of waffles left behind by Drizella as she scurried forwards. Three plates laid next to it. I went to go clean the up. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" Drizella screeched.

           In my tired frame of mind, I had forgotten that the stove had lit on fire. Oops. Anastasia and step-mother now joined us. They were both too terrified to say much, but I got the gist of it. They blamed me for it. Even though it had only happened because I was dead tired because I had been up all night cleaning their stuff. Well. Okay. Maybe it was my fault. But not entirely. I couldn't sleep now, not when adrenaline was forcing my eyes wide apart. Anastasia glared at me and hissed into my ear, so that even with the torturous bellow of the fire alarm, I could hear her, "Die in this fire, skank."

            I ignored her-Drizella's furious yelling drowned out my feelings. "GUYS! CLEAR OFF! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE HOUSE!" I managed, trying to push through them to get out. 

           A strong arm groped my shoulder. "I don't think so!" Drizella pulled me back. "You need to put out the fire!" she yelled. Damndamndamndamndamn. Double damn. Why did I have to live with morons?

           I finally decided to take action. With the hot flames threatening to taste my skin, I jolted past the oven, coughing out breathes of pure smoke. Sweat poured down my face and down my back and chest. I was wet, hot, and tired. My eyes watered as I scrambled at the cabinet, and finally wrenched it open and grabbed at bright red fire extinguisher. Unable to stand for fear of catching on fire, I crawled along the side. Right as I was crawling by step-mother, I heaved. It was just bile-I hadn't eaten anything for hours, and it seemed the stress of everything was too great to cope for my body. I was crying, too, crying and vomiting and sweating and just feeling like I wanted to curl up an die. I pulled myself a few more paces forward, out of harms way of the flames. I was dragging myself through the throw-up. I shuddered, sobbing uncontrollably, and stood, firing the foam at the flames immediately. I felt like I wanted to die-like I needed to die. But I kept pulling the trigger. 

           Quite unexpectantly and unannounced, the door flew open and a firefighter ran in. My ears were filled with the screams of step-mother, Drizella, Anastasia, and the fire alarm. My nose was avoiding the reek of the smoke, to avoid my lungs, so I wouldn't choke. My tongue could taste the fire and the smoke-it was rancid and completely undescribable. My eyes were blurred from heavy, hot tears, and all I could feel was the heat of the flames threatening to catch me. I was one with my senses. I had no thoughts, no feelings. I could see, hear, smell, taste, and feel. That was all. 

           A few minutes of burning, a few minutes of firefighters shunting us out of the house, a few minutes of fear. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun. My step-sisters and I sat on the grass, panting. I was crying again. So were the other two. Step-mother was pacing and bellowing at the occasional firefighter. When the fire was put out completely and they were assured that we would not be in further danger, the firefighters emerged from our house. The chief firefighter, the one who had run into our house to extinguish the flames, spoke to step-mother sternly.

           "For future notices," she said after discussing insurance with step-mother, "Be careful to get yourself and your children out of the house at once. Do not stall to get possessions, and do not stand around the fire waiting to get burned! And overall, do not allow your child to attempt to put out the fire!" I coughed at this for multiple reasons. Firstly, I was not step-mother's child. Secondly, during the fire, I had done a better job of putting out the fire than the firefighter had done. Actually, she had missed most of the fire and had concentrated on dampening the surrounding furniture. 

           "She is not my child!" step-mother said in a voice quite unlike her own; it was nearly six full octaves higher. 

           "Nevertheless, ma'am," the firefighter said in a tone that insinuated she thought the last thing step-mother was was a 'ma'am', "It is your responsibility to extract yourself and your younger house members from a fire unless that would put yourself in danger. You need to be careful."

           A few more words, and then step-mother grabbed me upper arm and dragged me inside, digging her fingernails into my arm so I squealed with pain. Anastasia and Drizella followed. "ARGHHHHHH!" Step-mother screamed. "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" She bellowed and I shook with fear. Her face was one of complete and utter rage. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS IS GOING TO COST?! YOU CAN PAY FOR THIS, MISSY! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A FOOL YOU ARE? YOU DESERVE TO STARVE TO DEATH!" She ranted for several minutes, but I couldn't hear her after a while. On top of the fact that I was tuning her out, sleep was also overtaking me yet again. Anastasia and Drizella watched, happily. Well, it seemed they did. Drizella looked happy.

           "Cinderella is finally getting what's been coming to her for a lo-ong time," Drizella stated joyfully.

           Anastasia kept wincing at words step-mother screamed at me in apparent revulsion. She finally turned around and grabbed the container of ice-cream from the fridge. "I've had enough of her horrible words," I heard Anastasia mutter to Drizella. "I'm outta here. And, by the way, take a bath. You reek."

           I nearly fainted from the mix of Anastasia's words to her mother and sister and from, well, the lack of rest. 

           When step-mother was finally finished, I heard her mutter, "You're just lucky insurance covers the cost of a new stove." I was now a disgusting mess. Emotionally and physically. I grabbed some plates and washed them without really paying attention. I knew that they were probably still filthy. While Anastasia ate her vanilla ice-cream, I mopped up the mess of vomit and water from the foam. Back and forth, back and forth. I didn't really understand how it magically cleaned messes. It was like I had a fairy godmother who had made the tiny Swiffer mop absorb everything. Otherwise, I would have to collect the vomit and then vacuum. Gross. When Anastasia had finished with her breakfast (she surprisingly didn't complain about the fact that I had burned the oven down so I was unable to make her more waffles after all), I collected the ice-cream tin, dumped the ice-cream in the trash and tossed the tin in the recycling. 

           As I shook from sleeplessness, I heard a terrible scream outside. I looked out, terrified. It was the firefighter, screaming in rage. I walked out to her. Was she in pain? "Are you okay?" I asked.

           She looked at me with worried eyes, and sighed a heavy, deep, thoughtful sigh. "I'm okay kid. I'm okay," she patted my shoulder. "I just can't stand seeing... injustice? I can't stand seeing child abuse."

           

Yeah. I knew how she felt.