A SECOND PERSPECTIVE

{trigger warning: this chapter has references to drug use, physical abuse and other kinds of abuse}

I have the perfect life.

Not only am I beautiful, and it really didn’t matter who the beholder was, everyone agreed I was, I am also brilliant. I have several trophies to my name from school competitions, and on the other spectrum, I’ve won a few pageants in my day. Yes, I am beauty and brains, and I have to say, that’s pretty rare these days.

I play three instruments, and I would say I’m incredible at all of them. Maybe my only Achilles heel would be singing, but years of training has definitely started to fix that. I play volleyball also, mainly for fun though, but I’d probably win when I need to. You could say I can do it all, and you’d be right.

I am at the top of my game, and I am loved by all, except for a few trolls here and there, but everyone has those. Even those that hate me acknowledge my perfection, because it is very apparent. This isn’t even me being arrogant, it’s just the honest truth, it’s not bragging if it true, right?

Lots of rumours circle the school about me, and I’ve heard them all. The ones that say I ‘slept’ my way to where I am, believe me when I say I didn’t, and even if I did why don’t they do the same, and be like me? Just saying.

Some say my parents have paid for everything I’ve accomplished, and to those I say, what would be the fun in that? I mean, I probably could get them to do that, but the satisfaction of knowing I did all that I’ve done simply by my pure, unadulterated skill and awesomeness is a really good feeling. And it’s sad that it’s so hard for some to believe me, I guess when you’ve accepted that there are somethings you can’t achieve, it’s hard to believe someone else can, you know?

Others say the judges just give me the winning medals because I’m a black girl, yes people actually do say that. So, by that logic, in all the competitions I’ve ever been in all the judges made this same decision? Please, give me a break. Besides, it’s not like I’m the only minority there, so why I’m the chosen one out of the others there?

Maybe I have a little bit of privilege, after all I do have all these tutors at my call, but it still takes a ton of hard work. There are a lot of other people that have parents like mine and spend all the money on drugs and gambling, so it’s not that simple. It didn’t all just fall from the sky unto my toned legs.

Bam!

The sound of someone shutting the trunk of a car caused one of the neighbours’ dog to start barking, interrupting my thoughts. I was almost home. I was close enough to clearly see the rose bushes Claire had planted outside the gates, she was really proud of them, and with good reason too, because they were beautiful. Even Osi agreed.

I stood in front of the gate and took a deep breath, preparing for whatever pandemonium I would find inside. I pressed the buzzer that would ring in the house, alerting whoever was home of my arrival.

“Hello, who is it?” a voiced buzzed through the speaker.

I smiled as I recognized the voice, “Hello, Malcom.”

“Ah, welcome home, young mistress.”

My smiled broaden at the title he had called me, I'd shown my dislike for the name many times in the past, but he had ignored me, and I had grown used to it. I had even grown to like it.

The gates swung open a moment later, allowing me into the vast estate I call home.

I could see some of the helps running around, going about their various chores without missing a beat. They didn’t pay much attention to my entrance, after all I was only the young mistress.

I met Malcom waiting for me at the door, standing tall with perfect posture, with a small smile on his face. I was about to give him a greeting when I heard Claire’s voice coming from somewhere behind him, the smile of his face vanished instantly.

Her voice rang loud through the house, she didn’t care anymore who heard her as long as her point was driven across. I walked past Malcolm and went in the house, hoping my presence would stop her before things went too far. It wouldn’t, I knew it wouldn’t, but I still hoped.

Her voice seemed to be coming from the palour across the entrance hall, one of the doors to the palour was shut but her voice escaped through the open one. I walked over to it and got close enough to hear them clearly.

“You have no respect for me!” I heard her scream at whom I assume was my dad. “You don’t even bother to cover up your tracks!”

I heard him reply her in a calm tone, “The way you cover yours, Claire?”

His words got no reply.

“You have nothing to say?” he asked. “Alright, then please stop yelling. I’m sure the servants are sick to death of hearing your constant bitching.”

She flared up at that, “Do I look like I care, Osi? Do you think I care?!! Let them hear! Let them know that the person that they call a boss is a bloody pig!”

He decided not to respond and resumed whatever he had been doing. I stopped at the open door leading to the palour, I wasn’t sure whether or not to go in, I was still frozen in indecision as she continued her rant.

“One day of these Osi, one of these days you’re going to get what’s coming to you, and I’ll be there. Standing over you as you plead for mercy.”

“Wish upon a star Claire, maybe it will grant you your desire.”

“You would be nothing without me! Nothing!” her voice had managed to get louder. “You were a scrawly street rat when I found you!”

She must have struck a nerve because I heard him get up off the leather couch. Things were escalating, I had to intervene but I couldn’t. I had tried once before and had been taught to regret it.

“Don’t you dare, Claire. Do not dare me.” He whispered, “I have had enough of this little stunt you’re pulling.”

“Or what? I’m telling you the truth and you know it!”

“I have worked hard for everything I own!”

“Worked hard? Is that what you call conning me into marrying you? Is that what you call sleeping with every influential wife you ever ca-”

Smack!

I jumped at the sound where I stood clutching the door with wide eyes. I finally turned and ran through the open door, allowing myself to be seen.

Osi was standing with his hands balled into fists staring hard at Claire, who was holding onto the nearest sofa to keep herself up. Either they didn’t notice my entrance or they didn’t care, because none of them turned to look at me.

“There, you’ve done your worst, right?” Claire sneered, “Do you now feel like a real man? Has it changed the fact the you used your body to get to where you are today?”

“You want to point fingers huh, little miss perfect?” he said in almost a growl. “Shall we begin to list all your many mess ups?”

“Screw you, Osi!”

He went on like she hadn’t said anything, “Should I begin with your druggie habits? Thousands and thousands of my money shot into your veins!”

She had no reply for his words, so he continued, “Or perhaps we should bring up your addiction to young blood? All the accusations our young male servants have brought against you, that I have to quiet!”

“It was consensual,” her voice cracked as she spoke, “They all were…I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

He laughed loud in her face, “Do you think that matters if they’re underaged?”

A gasp escaped me as my hands went over my mouth, it was then they turned to me.

“Ah, let your daughter learn about your shortcomings, and not just mine.” Osi said with a grin. He walked over to me, I started to back away from him but got stopped by the closed door.

“Do you remember your handsome young friend that moved to Ecuador last summer? The one that came over several times, and your lovely mother hosted him with so much gusto?”

Cassian, he was talking about Cassian. I had never thought much about his move, he had said his one of his parents had been promoted…and I had believed. Of course, I believed, why would he lie to me.

“His parents got a pretty penny from us when they discovered about your mother’s tryst.” Leaning closer to me, he whispered, “All of this happening right under your nose.”

“Shut up! None of these things are worse than the things I’ve had to endure from you for all these years!”

“Yes, because all I’ve done is worse than pedophilia?”

She grabbed one of the tiny potted plants on the table next to the sofa and flung it at him, he dodged easily it, and it sailed at me. I shrieked and quickly shielded my eyes with hands, as it crashed and shattered on the door I was up against, just above my head. Shards of ceramics rained down on me, piercing through my school shirt and into my skin.

I uncovered my eyes and saw a trembling Claire and a stunned Osi staring at me, they made no attempt to come towards me. I rubbed trembling fingers on my stinging cheek and they came away sticky with blood, I blinked away tears at the sight of my red fingertips. Osi broke out of his shock and called out for Malcolm.

Malcolm hurried in and surveyed the room in silence, I saw fear go through his eyes when he saw the state I was in, but he didn’t say anything. As he had learnt to.

“Have her seen to,” Osi gestured at me with his sights fixed on my mom. “And get someone to clean this place up.”

I stood there in a daze as Malcolm walked over to me and gently brushed off the broken pieces that were on me, and led me out of the room without asking any questions. We left my parents in the room, one was too bewildered to speak and the other was pacing in quiet anger.

We stopped momentarily at the kitchen for Malcolm to order someone to clean up the mess in the palour, then he took me up to my room, where he ushered me to sit on the bed and then hastily left to, I assume, get one of the first aid boxes in the house. I sat there and studied the patterns on the desk in my room to remove my mind from the pain that was spreading to my shoulder.

My room really was beautiful. The decor had been done by a European interior designer that had been flown in from Scotland, and he had been worth the expense. He had chosen Italian furniture specially, saying it would give the room a certain glamour that couldn’t be achieved otherwise. He hadn’t been lying, my room looked like something out of Vogue.

Malcolm came back into the room carrying the first aid box, interrupting my thoughts, and behind him was my personal help. She ran over to me in quiet panic, but the deadpan look I had on my face stopped her in her tracks.

Malcolm placed the now open first aid box next to me on the bed, and gestured Jill over, whose teary eyes were still fixed on me. She went over to him and collected the bottle of peroxide and cotton ball he was holding out, and poured a little of the contents of the bottle on the cotton ball, and walked over to me.

“This might hurt a bit.” she whispered as she brought the ball close to my face with trembling hands.

I nodded in response, and she pressed it down on one of the cuts on my face. I winced at the pain but remained silent, Jill let out a whimper but continued cleaning the injuries.

“And what happened to you, young mistress?” Malcolm pensively asked from where he stood.

I sat there without an answer, he wasn’t asking because he didn’t have an idea of what had happened, after all this wasn’t my first accident. He was asking because he had been ordered to always ask whenever I had an accident, to know my answer.

“A friend flew in all the way from Australia to see me,” I began. “And we decided to play a little game of baseball. She threw the ball in my direction, but my swing missed it, but only because her aim was terrible. The ball hit the window behind me, and the pieces of glass fell on me.”

“Alright then.” He said, with a quiver in his voice. “Jill, let me know when you’re done.”

Then he walked out of the room.

Things could be worse, I thought as Jill continued on. Not everyone had someone to take care of them when they had an accident, or could afford the proper things for treatment. But I did, and I should be grateful for that.

I had everything I needed, it was all a call away.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” Jill asked softly as she moved to get a new cotton ball.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I responded without turning to look at her.

Why wouldn’t I be?

I have the perfect life.