<>
<
<
<< Do you know it's absurd what you're telling me >> I feel the steps of echoing closer and closer to me, making the rage within me resurrect. I'm holding the deadly knife in my palm, and it would really be the perfect scenario just to stab everyone in here and leave, quiet now. But I emphasize my heartbeat and focus on something more neutral.
<< Why are you up so early?>> I change the conversation thinking it's the best I could do, and he grabs an apple by touching my arm vaguely. I'm tightening the sharp object more in my frozen palm. Opens the faucet, rinses the peel and bites it directly. He's not looking at me at all.
<< Because you don't know my schedule yet. That's the kind of time I wake >> he barely moves away as it sits comfortably on the stool behind me.
<> continue to grind the steaks with mustard and lemon in the large baking pan to then put them in the hot oven. I leave lunch to prepare and continue with breakfast. I look at the clock on the opposite wall and that triggers me to look at the boy near me.
<< How long before the rest of them wake up?>>
<< I think you'll find out soon>> He ostentatiously closes my eye, jumps off the stool and then disappears from the kitchen, leaving me stunned. Something's yelling at me that this guy's not going to get along. He's next on my list.
As I continue with the slices, toasts and omelettes a familiar female voice disintegrates me. I turn back to observe the beautiful black skirt and jacket of the lady of the house.
<< Good morning, Yvonne>> She smiles gracefully at me as she approaches me and I bend without my will, the corners of my lips. I have to be as innocent, calm and shy as possible. That's the original plan. I need their trust.
<< Good morning, ma'>>
<
<< As you wish, Mrs. >>
<< To the singular >>
She's supposedly fighting me hard and walks away smiling waiting for me to serve breakfast. That's what I do. But when I go to the main dining room, I don't see the son of the family. But in his place, I see the girl I've wanted to see since yesterday. This brown-and-brown calm girl with beautiful blue eyes, a gift from her father. She's really the only one I want more than anything to destroy, not because she's done something to me, but to make her father realize how much it hurts to have your child torn to shreds.
I observe them from inside the kitchen while they just have their breakfast, with malicious thoughts running through my mind. Destroying them is the purpose of my existence, ever since Peter stood idly by to look at the murder of my parents.
#########
Four years ago.
The black dress I chose to wear is the right one for my family's final farewell. Unfortunately because of my age I have not been able to convince those responsible to transfer them to a cemetery in Sparta, so I leave them in one in Athens. This damn town I've hated so much for three days. These days they look like prison to me. Without their company.
I look at the empty space around me, since everyone was evacuated as soon as the mystery was over, all but their daughter. I stand in front of their still undying grave and look at the fresh soil, a trickle that I myself threw before. Some herbs spring up next to them and the memory with their united palms flows in my aching mind.
So without being able to hold it a hot tear falls on my cheekbone and my mother's happy laugh travels in my memory. I will no longer hear it, I will no longer have the right to turn to her for advice. The two of them are mixed in the soil, they're back on clay. All that's going to be left in a few years will be their bones. Two lifeless masses...
The sobs increase their intensity and force me to kneel with my skin skinned from the cement on the floor. Tears get stronger, their flow is described as horrific, but I don't pay attention. The pain I feel can't be explained. This pain is unbearable, worse than any poison could offer me.
I get my handful of dirt from both my parents as I squeeze this brown thing in my palms. It's like this is how I'm going to feel about them, like I'm going to bring them back to life. How stupid I am.
My crying becomes more painful and my heart feels like she's going to lose all her beats and abandon me. The grey clouds above my head reveal my gloomy mood. And when the rain drips into my body, then I bless the God who stands by me, even in this way. The water flowing from the sky somehow washes away the rage I feed into myself, but the words come out of my mouth, without thinking about it any more.
<< I swear I'll get back at him. I swear to you.>> can hardly articulate that promise, and then a social worker grabs me by the arm to take me to my own hell for the first time. In a lifeless place I should call home. But the house has nothing to do with the orphanage, and I hate those two who were involved in the removal of the most important people in my life.