Chapter 2:
The fourth floor was completely different than anything else in the mansion. This floor was home to all of the junk that the family had discarded, but was too stingy to sell to any of it. But even that trash heap was clean and tidy. Going farther through the discarded furniture, there was a thin gray door. Compared to the room before it was concealed in, it was drab. Rusty hinges barely hung onto the old, dust bleached wooden door. Turning the dented metal knob, one could hear the door moan in protest as it scraped across the floor.
Inside the door was a tiny room, about half the size of a normal family's one car garage. It was dark in the room, the curtains closed, but if someone was to make out something it might have been the bed stead that was pushed up against the wall. In it was a bundle. More specifically, a girl.
Curled up in the bed was a 15 year old girl. Her skin was slightly tanned from working in the garden and accented her dark eyelashes. Thick, shaggy, awfully cut dark brown hair splayed out in all directions from the girl's excessive dreaming and moving. Her face was beautiful, or would be if she had been allowed the necessary things she needed to take care of herself. Though covered in scrapes, cuts, and dirt splotches, her skin was soft, having not yet lost all of her baby fat.
Her 'family', though obviously filthy rich, had not taken care of the young girl. She was expected to wash daily only the areas that were to be seen with water, but was only allowed to bathe once a day. She was skinnier than what was normal for girls her age, the results of being fed once a day a meager meal only meant to give her enough energy to perform the chores she was given. In fact, most of the extensive mansion was cleaned by this girl.
The Tifersons never claimed the young lady to be their niece, the very thought disgusting them. When Mrs. Tiferson arrived at the hospital several days after receiving the call, she had been appalled by what she found. The baby of her husband was much more adorable than even her own child. It was outrageous; she felt like the child jeopardized her daughter and husband. How dare the child of a monster like her brother to be born. It was not right. So, her husband willingly agreeing, Abigail decided to make sure this child would grow up in the most hurtful and evil environment ever. They would deny her love, praise, the warmth of a family, and the friendship of their children. Insults, beatings, malnourishment, and cleanliness were given from the whole family.
Abigail made sure her children treated her niece more like a stray pet than a human being. She starved the kid, and worked her to the bone. In return, the child, having known no other way to live, grew accustomed to it. She continued to be happy, and thought that the people around her hurt her because they cared. She thought that it was how they showed their affection.
The girl was never given a name, since they believed a human cannot truly be a person without one. They never gave the poor little one anything. They only thing they gave her was the room upstairs, which was the most disgustingly filthy thing ever until she had learned how to clean. Then it became her paradise, and a place that no one went. Not even the maids, though they never went anywhere and were only for the guests to praise them on the room that the lonely girl in the attic had cleaned in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep.
As the sun set behind her curtains, the girl started to stir under her covers. With the sun setting fully to begin the day on the other side of the world, the child sat up in bed. Her hands moved up to her eyes, which were still clouded with sleepiness. Slowly opening them, revealing caramel brown eyes, allowing them to adjust to their dark surroundings. Climbing out of bed and stretching out the stiffness of her body, she shuffled to her dresser. Claiming tattered clothing, she stripped of her long, over sized tee-shirt and put on her regular clothes.
She was always set to do the hardest tasks by the cleaning staff. This was probably because of the woman of the house always telling boldface lies that the girl was a horrible person that bullied her children. It also didn't help that they never saw her. They only saw the work that she accomplished and assumed that there was another cleaning crew that took the night shift.
Of course, by the time the girl managed to get downstairs everyone had retired to their own rooms. On the middle of kitchen island was always the list of chores she was to do that night. It was never really exactly the same thing every day. Sometimes one of the tasks would take several weeks, such as sewing brand new outfits for her cousins or sweeping the ceiling. But it was always expected that she should get it down in a day, and every day she missed they gave her a light beating.
Her favorite chore was sweeping the porch outside. It was always night when she awoke to do her family's bidding. It was one of the only times she was allowed to go outside, and she savored it. She soaked up the moon and the stars in every way she could without getting naked. She breathed in the crisp night air and hummed a tune that seemed to fit what she felt and what she saw. Pushing the dirt around while thoroughly cleaning is not an easy task. In fact, considering how old she was, it was remarkable it even crossed her mind.
It was during dinner parties, where she was forced to serve as a waiter, that most of torture insued. She was made to dress as a boy, and was hit on on many occasions by Gorgeous' friends. Of course this was intolerable, and she was forced to sit while her aunt cut out random clumps of hair so no one could mistake her for a 'boy' or, since they still made her wear boy's clothes, a 'girl'. She was sexless.
Anyway, while at the dinner parties there was talk of a wild beast terrorizing the countryside. Rumors stated that the beast was twenty feet tall, massive, with pointy teeth, yellow stained eyes, and blood colored fur with tufts of white like a candy cane. It became a joke as well as a terrifying story, Candy Cane the bear, but even then the joke was rather humorless. There were still people going missing for unknown reasons.
Our heroine, having never been objected to emotion, was frightened. She tried to disregard the information as unimportant and kept a straight face, though there really weren't any other expressions that she was allowed to make at her family's dinner party.
The rumor only caused the sexless girl more trouble. Mrs. Tiferson, seeing the girl visibly shake, verbally chastised her and promised the girl she would regret it later.
That night, underneath the deep sunset, the girl was forced out the door the grand house with nothing more than a thin black dress with white trim to wear. She was given a tattered blanket, one she had personally used to clean the floors of the mansion with strong cleaner, of which it still smelled of. But her aunt did not stop at the porch. Mrs. Tiferson manhandled the trembling child far over the grounds to the large gate separating them from the forest and the well-kept grass.
Swiftly opening the gate, she pushed the child through and closed the gate again, locking it, and then walked away. The young teenager leaned upon the firm gate, staring into the darkening trees. This was to be her home for a month.