Ch2

5 years later

I rolled over to my side and open my eyes to see Benjamin sitting up and staring up at the window as he does many mornings.

"Good morning brother." I propped myself up on my two arms and sat up. He turned to look at me and smiled.

"You're up, the sun rose a while ago, I didn't want to wake you." Although I had become accustomed to the almost constant screaming, from time to time I still had difficulty sleeping.

"Thank you."

"Benjamin and Bethany Barker, both of you up! You've been released! Been decided you both be mentally fit!" We had long ago given up the hope of leaving this wretched place, but the day had finally come and we could leave. No more screaming or beatings. We could go home, wherever that may be now. We had no belongings to really speak of so we followed the guard down the narrow hallway with packed cells and lunatics grabbing at us from behind bars. Though I couldn't say I minded much at all because we were finally getting out.

We were forcefully thrust out into the bright daylight. I couldn't see a thing. When my eyes finally adjusted the guard was gone. I turned around and I saw and older man that seamed oddly familiar, but I couldn't seem to place from where.

"Father?" I turned my head to the side and saw my brother oddly agape not quite believing the words that came out of his mouth. I turned my head back to the man and took a long hard look before I realized that he was right. The man standing in front of us on the pavement was our indeed our father.

"Been in that institution five years and that all you have to say?" He glanced between me and Benjamin seemingly deciding we could no longer stand idly on the side of the road. He ushered us to the nearby waiting carriage.

My father, Victor Barker, had always been a simple man. He had a wife, children, and a well-paying job. He read the daily press, drank gin and talked with other men. He had always been good to us, but he had always been ignorant as well. On one occasion I remember Benjamin had tried to tell him about the abuse, but father waved it off and said "discipline is not abuse son." After that we never tried to approach the subject matter again.

Looking at him now sitting across from me I realize how much Benjamin and I look like him. Our ebony hair, dark eyes, and sharp features are all from him. Although many memories of my mother I can remember the night we killed her as clear as when we did it. I remember her soft elegant face and her unfitting cruel hard gaze. Her blond hair and blue eyes in such contrast to us there were times I used to refuse that she was our mother at all.

The carriage came to a halt. My father smiled at us and walked out followed by my brother and finally me. I looked up at the house I lived in up to the age of eight. It had barely changed, almost identical to my memory. From the almond brick exterior to the rose beds up front.

"Well c'mon then into the house you go. You both must get bathed and changed into proper attire." He motioned us toward the house. I glanced down at the rags I was wearing. It had never really occurred to me about my clothing. After all I had worn pretty much the same thing for 5 years.

Inside changes were not apparent if any were made at all. The eloquent rugs, hardwood floors, and rich burgundy walls the same as last we were here.

"I assume you recall where your rooms are. I shall have the maids fill up tubs and pick out clothing for you two. Hurry if you can there is someone I would like to introduce to you both." Me and my brother both climbed the stairs and found our rooms. Who would he want to introduce us to?

The bathtub had been filled my one of the maids and I slid into the water. In the institution there were mass bathing days and big bulky guards scrubbed you down roughly. Though bathing days were rare and I would get covered in dirt and grime. As I got older these days scared me more and more as women have been known to get taken advantage of. I'm now at the age of 13 and I'm sure that if I were there through another bating day I would've been.

After I washed the dirt of my skin and the scum out of my hair I returned to my room where a dress had been laid out and a maid waited to assist me getting into the corset. The dress was an elegant dark blue silver and black trim, lace, and embroidery. I was given a simple pair of lace-up black boots as footwear. The maid whose name I learned was Magritte put my hair up in complicated bun with a few stay hairs framing my face. Leaving my room I saw my brother. He was wearing a pair of beige trousers, a white shirt and suspenders. He too was taking in my appearance. We hadn't seen each other in anything but dirty rags for five years. Both of us clean and well-dressed is an oddity. He smiled at me and told me I looked like a proper lady. I told him I felt like one.

Downstairs we were directed to the main parlor by another one of the maids. Entering the room I noticed that the flooring had been changed in this room. I don't blame my father. The old floor would've been stained with his deceased wife's blood. Who would want to keep that flooring?

Father was sitting on the sofa with a slender, blond haired, hazel eyed woman dressed in a bright yellow dress. She smiled as she looked over my brother and I. Her gaze lingered on Benjamin for a little too long that neither I nor he was comfortable with. Who is she and why in the world is she looking at my brother like a piece of meat? My father sensing our confusion decided to break the uncomfortable silence that had filled the room.

"Ah, Benjamin, Bethany, I would like you both to meet my new wife, and your step-mother, Elizabeth Tannon." A new wife and our step mother, is our father mental? I suppose I should have never ruled out that he would remarry, but I find it highly surprising that he did.

"Father, I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but may I assume she is aware of what happened to our biological mother?" She shifted uncomfortably at my question. Good.

"Yes, she is, and I have explained to her that it was a mental lapse that has been corrected by the institution, and that both of you are mentally well and fit. I have also assured her that she need not worry of such a horrid thing happening to her. I am correct aren't i?"

"Yes, father of course. As you said we are both perfectly mentally fit." My father nodded at Benjamin seemingly satisfied with his response.

"It is quite nice to meet you both, I am sure we will all get along smashingly." She spoke for the first time. Her voice, at least to me, sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I could tell this woman would get on my nerves. She gave me a bad feeling, although i do not believe she will attempt to beat us as our mother had.

Magritte came in and told us that lunch had been prepared and was waiting to be served. We all exited the parlor and moved to the table where tablemats, water glasses, silverware, plates, and food had been set up. Benjamin and I both devoured the good-tasting food, and asked for seconds. Elizabeth made some comment about it unruly for a young lady to eat as such, but said it could be excused this time because i haven't grown with a good example.

Elizabeth tried several times to strike up conversation with me, but mostly Benjamin, until she realized neither of us were interested. So instead of asking questions, she went on about useless things she had done earlier that day and plans for the rest it too. But it wasn't her irritating voice or boring plans that angered me the most about her. She couldn't seem to stop looking at Benjamin. Whether it be glancing at him between small bites of food, or ogling him while she thinks no one is looking. As usual my father remained clueless just as he had when I was a child, blissfully ignorant in his perfect world refusing to see the many cracks in the glass.

When in truth it's just a matter of time before it shatters.