It had been 12 years, since Piper McLean's father had somehow mysteriously disappeared from the world, 12 horrible years of having to endure her step-mothers wrath. 12 years of looking out of her window, in the attic, hoping that one day her prince charming would and sweep her of her feet, but that would never happen, would it? Would the world somehow reverse itself? Would it bring her father back to her? Would it? She couldn't help but bear these thoughts as she made oatmeal for her family, if she could call them that. To them, Piper was a slave, someone who had to work for them without saying a word; they thought she was a dum, stupid, and an insolent girl, who they gave so much to. How could they think that after torturing her so much? She did so much for them.
Quickly she snapped out of her thoughts, and arranged the breakfast to how her so-called family liked it. After arranging it, she put them on trays and made sure that they were boiling hot. It's not like she was going to do anything bad to them. She just needed the oatmeal to cool before she gave it to them. Meanwhile as it was cooling, she ran out and fed the chickens, the horses, and every other animal that was in their small farm next door.
By the time she came back the oatmeal had cooled enough for a person to eat it without burning their tongue. She carefully held the three trays firmly and started heading upstairs.
"Piper where is our breakfast!" yelled Drew, one of her stepsisters.
"Hurry up", her other step sister called.
Piper quickened her pace. It was better not to upset the two. She went to each of her family members rooms and placed a tray on each of the tables next to their beds, hastily pouring tea, before they could scream at her again.
After breakfast her Mother and sisters came downstairs, one by one, Shouting "Piper, prepare the bath". Piper quickly nodded and left to get the wonderfully scented oils and perfumes, for each of her family member's luxurious baths, while all she got was a bucket of ice-cold water and a bar of soap. She wished she could have gotten more, but at least she was clean and not filthy.
The rest of the day was filled with more chores. Cleaning each room, cooking lunch, feeding the animals once again, cleaning the rooms once more, helping her sisters choose which dress to where for the afternoon, going out to buy vegetables and groceries, cleaning everything, once again, cooking dinner, and finally feeding the animals dinner, her family wouldn't even give her a minute to take a breath. By the end of the day she was exhausted. She walked up the long staircase that led to her attic and fell o n her tiny bed. She pulled her thin blanket over her shoulders and awaited that soothing state of unconsciousness that she so greatly desired.
