Wounded heart

"Claudine," the voice came again.

This time, Claudine could tell who it was. It was Janey. There was something about her voice, though, deep and resounding, almost like it had morphed into that of a monster. Claudine felt herself shiver as the voice came again.

Mrs. Zaynader stomped into the kitchen, and Claudine swivelled to look at the middle-aged woman who looked rather bewildered. She looked Claudine up and down, then her eyes rested on the girl's newly shaved head.

"I see Arielle has been doing the work of a barber quite impressively," she said, her lips curling up in a slick smile as she spoke.

Claudine suddenly felt a wave of shame wash over her. Mrs. Zaynader was the first person, after Arielle, to see her with her shaved hair, and she felt embarrassed.

Claudine cast her eyes on the tiled ground of the kitchen, her hands in front of her in a demure pose. Mrs. Zaynader heard her sniffle. She walked over to her.

"Claudine?" She said, her voice unusually calm.

"Yes, ma'am," Claudine replied in between sniffles.

"Child, look at me when I'm talking to you," she sounded angry.

"Weren't you taught any manners in that squalid orphanage?"

Claudine raised her head slowly, and Mrs. Zaynader caught her by the chin, her grip firm, her fingernails sinking into Claudine's flesh.

"We don't have any time for all this sniffling, all this whining and sobbing, okay?"

Claudine nodded fearfully.

"Exactly. So listen to me. Apart from being Arielle's baby sister or plaything, whatever she sees you as, I also want to chip in that as long as you're in this house, you will have duties. Like these dirty dishes, you're about to do."

She released Claudine, and Claudine's hand instinctively went to her chin.

"Now tell me, orphanage brat," she said, "can you cook?"

"N-no, ma'am," Claudine stuttered.

"Really?" Mrs. Zaynader said in mock surprise, her hand flying to her collar.

"You don't know how to cook? Why, that's too bad. Anyway, go on with your washing. I'll surely find something for you to do as time goes on."

Claudine relaxed her chest muscles that had become tight as Mrs. Zaynader walked out of the kitchen.

"Ohh, and I don't want to hear any sniffling or sobbing," Mrs. Zaynader yelled.

"This isn't the place for that."

Claudine took a deep breath to clear her mind and then turned to focus on the pile of dishes.

***

The dishes took longer than Claudine had expected they would. She worked without stopping as she cleaned one after the other.

Arielle walked in and gave her a playful tap on her head. She laughed as the smack sound filled the kitchen, a laugh that annoyed Claudine even more than the smack.

"Look at that," Arielle sneered.

"It's like a little drum. I bet I could play on it all day long. And you'd love that, wouldn't you, baby sister?"

Claudine decided to ignore her and returned to her work.

Arielle stayed by her side for a while, her mouth working like she had an engine in it.

She teased Claudine, taunted her, called her all sorts of names — leftover child, ugly duckling, the unwanted one. She continued with the taps on Claudine's head, not minding that the girl was working. Claudine tried her best to ignore everything, even though it was hard.

But at some point, she couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what I think, baby sis?" Arielle said, and Claudine rolled her eyes as she rinsed a soapy dish under the gush of the faucet.

"I think it's not your fault," she continued.

"It's that of your negligent parents. Your mother, especially. What sort of heartless woman would have a child, even one as hideous as you are, and then give that child up to a fucking orphanage? It baffles me."

Claudine has always thought fondly of her mother. The women at the orphanage had told them that their parents giving them up was not because of a lack of love but most likely because of unbearable constraints.

The fact that she sometimes saw her mother in her dreams made her think wholesomely of her. So Arielle's words hurt her. She felt bile rise in her throat.

"You don't know anything about my mother," she told Arielle, her voice sharp as the knife she had just rinsed.

"What?" Arielle said, quite surprised that Claudine had talked back at her.

"You heard me, big sister," Claudine said mockingly.

"Keep her name out of your mouth. You don't know anything about her."

Arielle bristled. Her right eye twitched in rising fury, and before Claudine could say something else, she smacked her hard across the chin, causing her to stumble backwards.

"Ohh, now you're talking back at me?" Arielle said, one eyebrow raised, her head cocked in surprise at the defiance she had seen in Claudine's eyes.

"Over something that's not even worth it. Your cunt of a mother that left you to the hands of fate in a fucking orphanage."

It was apparent Arielle was trying even harder to hurt Claudine and maybe get her to say something disrespectful. Claudine knew and decided to ignore it. She turned back to her work.

Arielle walked over to her, leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You want to fight back, huh? Don't worry, I like that. You and I will have so much fun, my sweet baby sister."

And with that, she left the kitchen. Claudine was almost done. She was done rinsing the dishes, so she took a drab-coloured cloth on the window sill and began to dry the plates.

As she did, her mind returned to Arielle's hurtful words, and tears began drifting down her eyes. While in the orphanage, she had read stories about wicked people, people who indulged in evil acts for no other reason than to see other people get hurt.

She remembered some of the girls at the orphanage, girls who had teased her because she was reclusive, who had given her funny names. Back then, it was different.

They couldn't hurt her. They could only talk, so they were easy to ignore. But here, with Arielle, it was torture, and it was only going to be more torture.

Claudine, having dried the dishes, started to fit them in the cabinets.

When she was done, she sank to the floor in exhaustion. Her hands hurt, and she developed a slight headache from Arielle constantly tapping her shaved head.

She ran her hand across the uneven patches on her head, but this time, she did not cry. She wished she could sleep and wake up to a new reality.

***

"Has she had any food?" Janey asked her daughter, who sat across her.

Arielle shrugged without answering. Something was amusing on her phone, and it held her riveted.

"She will need something to eat," Janey said again.

"The girl hasn't had anything to eat since she came here."

"Ohh, mother," Arielle said. "Will you give it a rest? She's not a child, you know? Surely, she can fix up something for herself."

"But how?" Janey asked.

"She's only been here for about a day."

But there was no response.

Arielle had gone back to pressing her phone.

Janey hissed and got up from the seat. She hated the weight of responsibility she always felt in the house.

Not that she felt any compassion for Claudine, no. It was just that since the girl was here, she would have to eat. Unless, of course, they wanted to starve her to death.

She plodded her way to the kitchen, and when she opened the door, she saw Claudine sitting on the floor, her head lolling on her neck.

"Ugh, get up!" She said, but Claudine wouldn't budge.

She walked over to where she sat and gave her a slight kick in her side.

"I said get up."

Claudine, startled awake, tried to jump on her feet but slipped and fell. Janey looked on, disgusted by it all. Claudine steadied herself, her hands behind her back.

"Yes, ma'am?" She said.

Janey looked her up and down as if she was clad in rags.

"I take it that you have not eaten anything, eh?" She finally said.

"No, ma'am, I've not," Claudine replied.

"And seeing as you can't cook, you can't cook for yourself, so..."

Janey opened a cabinet, rummaged in it for a while and pulled out a loaf of bread.

It smelled pretty stale and didn't look any better. She tossed it at Claudine.

"Here, breakfast," she said.

Claudine awkwardly caught the bread, staring at the mould growing in various parts. She almost could not believe her eyes.

Mrs. Zaynader walked out of the kitchen, and Claudine held the loaf. She sank to the ground again, and her stomach rumbled. She realized she did not have a choice. She tried to pull out the bread where the mould was growing.

When she was done, she cut a chunk of it and stuffed it into her mouth.