After the whole day of processing inventory, I managed to dose off in the bus for 5 minutes before crossing over to the Enlightened district. My hands surprisingly didn't suffer from carpel tunnel but my legs, however, have been sore from this morning's charley-horse. I was lucky to make the bus this morning but managed to spend most of my energy on that run that it left me feeling fatigued and very sweaty. I try to fix my hair up into a French braid to tame all the loose strands that keep falling out. I look at the time located at the front of the bus and can't help but wonder what it would feel like to drive my own car and enjoy the windows down without a care in the world. Flashbacks from the old States flood my mind of a time when people would do whatever they wanted and when my parents would call off of work and take me out of school early to spend the rest of the day at the beach or on a trip to a theme park.
The bus makes its stop and I start to make my way to the Espinoza household. As I make my way to the back door, I notice that the backyard is absolutely silent for a weekday. I look around once more and decide to enter the kitchen where Natalie is cooking as usual. I look at the nape her neck and see a small bruise hiding under her braid. She's making homemade chicken soup, but her attention seems to be miles away from the kitchen.
"I need you to do the rest of the laundry," she says without turning around to face me. I nod in response and head downstairs to the laundry basement. At the bottom of the stairs, I see a huge mountain of clothes, sheets, towels, and pillowcases awaiting the washer. I take a deep breath and start on the bedding before the clothes.
. . .
After doing the sheets and duvets, my carpel tunnel started acting up and caused me a great deal of pain to fold and tuck into the king size mattresses along with stuffing the pillows back into the fresh pillowcases. I managed to make the beds for the girls' rooms and the master bedroom withing a couple of hours. Bringing the fresh sheets and covers for Anthony's room, my hands started to go numb. I drop the fresh linen on the floor and watch how my hands refuse to move. I shake my arms to bring feeling back, but I only receive sharp pain shooting from my fingertips all the way to my wrists. I try to move my fingers without any luck causing me to panic and run back to the kitchen to find Natalie.
Instead of Natalie, I find Anthony opening a cold beer and giving me the stink eye until he notices my frozen hands.
"What's up with your hands, Sandy," he says clearly already drunk from the slurs in his voice.
"I have carpel tunnel," I mutter as I struggle to turn on the facet to cold water in attempt to ease my aching hands as I ignore the fact that he got my name wrong.
"You'll need ice," he mutters, "and lots of rest." He laughs as he opens the freezer to take out the ice. He walks over next to me to help close the drain and filled the sink with ice and water. Once it's halfway filled, he turns off the water and walks away.
"Thank you," I whisper. I dunk my hands in the icy water and let the tingling freeze over until I start to feel the coldness of the water wash over my fingertips and wrists. I hear him sigh and get near me to touch my hands. I react without hesitation to back away from Anthony, leaving a trail of water on the kitchen floor. Knowing damn well that he is not my favorite person to be helping me and after raping Natalie for who knows how long. He chuckles at my reaction as he tries approach me once more.
"Relax, I was gonna massage your hands while they're submerged in the water."
"No thank you I can manage on my own," I force a smile in reassurance, so he won't get near me again.
"Look I know you can't stand me," he belches, "but I never have done anything to her without her knowing."
"Well, that's reassuring to know that you let her know that you are a monster and plan to have your way with her like a piece of property," I spit out. I instantly regret my choice of words by the look on his face. He gives me a cold stare for a few seconds until he burps and starts to laugh.
"I can't blame you for your reaction to how I've behaved yesterday. I'm sure you thought me to be an absolute gentleman with proper manners and whatnot." He waves his hand to me to come close, but I stay in my place. He sighs and walks toward me which makes me walk backwards until I hit my back against the refrigerator. He comes in close and slams his hand by the side of my head causing me to stop breathing and a surge of adrenaline pumping in my veins. Even drunk, he looks just as menacing as yesterday when he had his way with Natalie.
Though I should be frightened for my life, I meet him at his gaze and match it with my hatred towards him.
"That's new," he chuckles, "no one can look me in the eyes with such rebellion and fire." He burps once more, and I can't hide my look of disgust.
"You disgust me you animal," I whisper, "people like you shouldn't live in a place like this." I push him away to leave this godforsaken house.
"In the end, aren't we all animals, Sandra Sandingo," he laughs. I pause to turn and look back at him with all my submerged anger. I walk back to him pointing index finger at him.
"My name is Sam Santiago, and you or your family doesn't scare me." I turn back toward the door and storm off in the backyard to go back towards the bus stop. Before I have a chance to leave the property, he shouts from the door, "You should be scared of us. You have no idea what they are capable of! Run away while you can!"
"Go to hell," I shout before crossing the street. The bus arrives just in time and for once I don't look back at the luxurious houses from the city. With a sigh of relief, I finally sit back once the city lights fade away behind me.
. . .
Once I'm home, I realize that I left my backpack in the laundry basement of the Espinoza house. I had to knock on the door to get my parents to open it.
"Sam, why don't you have your keys," says my mom, clearly half-asleep.
"I left it by accident at the Espinoza house," I say as I make my way to the bathroom. I shut the door before my mom follows me inside.
"You never leave your backpack anywhere without you," says my dad, "are you sure you're okay," he knocks lightly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll just pick it up tomorrow," I answer before they start asking more questions.
"Okay, Sam, we're going back to bed," says my mom, "goodnight."
"Goodnight mommy," I respond as they walk back to bed. I put my hands to cover my face knowing damn well I have to see these monsters again tomorrow. I wash my face and change for bed. I stretch my hands in attempt to ease the pain after tonight's ruckus. I toss and turn until eventually I succumb to sleep.