AN: This chapter deals with themes of emotional and psychological abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Chapter 10 Peak Into the Past

My fingers hurt, feeling sore as I scrubbed at the frying pan. I had told Aunt Minty that doing this wouldn't do anything in the long run, mostly because of the fact that the stains she had noticed on the frying pan were caused by said frying pan being seasoned. But despite all that, she had made me scrub at the thing anyway. She said that she didn't want to see me out of the kitchen until every last brown spot on the pan had disappeared.

And, unfortunately for me, I have been scrubbing for the better part of the last hour and haven't even gotten rid of one stain.

I actually started to cry. I thought about telling Aunt Minty about this again, telling her that this wasn't going to work. But as soon as I had that thought, I shuddered. I remembered how she had yelled at me two days ago for accidentally leaving my stuffed bear on the floor. Her normally green face had grown red. Spittle had shot out of her mouth and landed on me. Her hand had been gripped into a fist so tightly that it ignited fear within me. That fear, while nothing new, made me feel like going up to her and telling her about my problem wasn't the best idea.

But… but what else could I do? This pan wasn't getting any cleaner, and trying to wash it only proved to make the tips of my fingers hurt even more. I knew I needed to stop. But I couldn't do that until the pan was completely clean. If only there was another way for me to do that…

I thought about this for a minute before I gasped. Wait! What if we found a magikoopa? What if we hired a magikoopa to get rid of the stains for us? Yeah, yeah! That was perfect! It would be able to do the job no problem! And, maybe if I suggested that to my aunt, she would actually like it! Maybe she would think I had a good idea! Maybe… maybe she would compliment me! That thought actually made me smile; oh, it would be so nice for her to compliment me, even just once.

With that thought in mind, I wiped my hands dry of water (Aunt Minty and Uncle Bryce hated it when I dripped water onto the floor) and made my way out of the kitchen. Half of me felt mightily excited, but the other half of me was telling me to air on the side of caution. Sure, the thought of Aunt Minty complimenting one of my ideas was nice, but… no, no. I wasn't going to dwell on the negative. I was going to ask Aunt Minty if this was okay. I wasn't going to let fear get the better of me.

I made my way into the living room. Aunt Minty sat down in front in a recliner and read a book, clearly absorbed. I hesitated for just a second before swallowing a lump and approaching her. "Aunt Minty?" Aunt Minty didn't respond. She just delved deeper into the book, not even bothering to lift her head and look at me.

This actually caused me to sigh. Part of me wanted to give up right then and there, for I knew how dangerous it was to poke the bear. However, I decided to hold my ground this time. "Aunt Minty?" She just flipped the page. Holding back my frustration, I stepped closer and put my hands on the top of her book. "Aunt Minty, I wanted to ask if we could…"

Before I could even finish the sentence, Aunt Minty snapped the book shut. I shrieked, for her pressing the covers together over my hand made my already sore fingers hurt even more. I yelped and pulled them back, feeling the sting as Aunt Minty glared at me.

"What do you want, Bratty?" That was her name for me. I honestly didn't remember the last time she called me Jackie. "I was right about to get to the good part!"

I cringed, trying my best to ignore the pain in my hand. "I… uh, well, I…" I felt squirmy all of a sudden. I also felt like I had a spotlight shining on me, a spotlight that exposed every single last one of my sins.

"Did you finish with cleaning the pan?" Aunt Minty asked me.

I sucked some air through my teeth, already bracing myself for the yelling. "Uh, not yet…"

Aunt Minty rolled her eyes far back into her head and let out a frustrated breath. "Un-fucking-believable." She glared at me some more, the expression as lethal hot as lava. "Can't you do anything right, Bratty?"

I swallowed a lump. "Um… actually…" I tried my best to speak, even though it felt like my vocal cords were going to collapse in on themselves. "I was… I was wondering if we could get a magikoopa to get rid of the stains. You know, that might be the fastest and easiest way to do this." I held my hands behind my back, forcing myself to look right into my aunt's eyes. "R…right?"

Aunt Minty stayed silent for about a minute. The suspense that minute contained beat down on me, almost like a storm rolling in and creating the most earth shattering rounds of thunder. I actually sweat as I waited for my aunt's response, hoping that I would receive that compliment I hoped for. Although, part of me knew deep down that wasn't going to happen.

And, unfortunately, that deep down part of me proved to be right, as Aunt Minty gave me the most dry and irritated of expressions. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard from you." She leaned back. "Which is saying a lot."

I began to shake, but still decided to stand my ground. "I just… I thought it would be good, considering that the stains aren't coming out…"

"HA!" Aunt Minty guffawed. "And whose fault is that, might I ask?"

I felt a pang. "I just… I told you, it's because of the frying pan seasoning…"

Aunt Minty shook her head. "Bratty, I can't believe I even have to say this to you; I thought it was plainly obvious." She looked me right in the eye, causing the squirmy feeling in my gut to get even worse. "We don't have money to do fancy stuff like that. All our money drained out of our bank accounts the day you came into our care." She shook her head and raised her book back up. "You've caused enough trouble as it is; I don't need to blow more money on you and your ridiculously naive ideas."

I felt another pang. I stood in place for a moment, not knowing what else to do. I knew I couldn't go back to cleaning the pan. But what other options were available to me? What could I do to actually make my aunt proud of me, make her notice me and not ridicule me every chance she got? There had to be something! Oh, how I wished there was something…

Right as I was about to go up to my room was when Aunt Minty lifted her head away from her book to give me another glare. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get back to cleaning the pan!" She looked back down at the book. "I don't to hear another word from you until that pan is absolutely spotless."

A lump formed in my throat. "Y…yes ma'am." So, with my tail tucked between my legs, I made my way back to the kitchen. I stopped halfway there to look at my aunt, look at her and wonder once again what I needed to do to impress her. She has always said that the day that I was forced to live under her care was the worst day of her life. If only there was something I could do to make her think otherwise….

…

Later that night, I actually worried if I wasn't going to get any dinner. Whenever Aunt Minty or Uncle Bryce were particularly mad at me, they often sent me right to bed without eating. And considering the argument Aunt Minty and I had over the frying pan… well, I didn't have high hopes about anything.

And when Uncle Bryce ordered pizza, my hopes only continued to sink even was because he had only gotten one pie. One. And sure, that was enough to feed all three of us, but on the nights where I was allowed to eat, he usually got two. So, looking at the one pizza pie resting on the dining room table, I could barely move. I just stared at it, hating myself and every last failure that led me to experience this horrible scenario.

Watching my aunt and uncle pick up pieces of the pie felt even worse. I wanted to look away, I wanted to turn away and act like I didn't care that I wasn't going to eat. I wanted to act like it was okay, that this was all okay. But it wasn't, and I was extremely bad at pretending, so…

As I stood there, Uncle Bryce must've mistook my looking at them to mean I was begging. Thus, he let out a snort. "You failed to clean the frying pan, Bratty." Yes, he called me Bratty too. "I think that some kind of punishment is in order."

My stomach growled right at that moment. When it did, I actually felt tears well up in my eyes. I tried to hide them, for I knew that they hated it when I cried. A blubbering baby is what they tended to call me before they left the room and made me deal with my problems without any sort of comfort on their part.

Unfortunately, Uncle Bryce noticed my tears, which in turn caused him to shake his head. "Yeesh. You break down over the most trite things, don't you Bratty? Is there a way for you to act any more petty, because I don't think there is."

"Yeah," Aunt Minty chimed in. "It's embarrassing."

I sniffled, drying my eyes. I wanted to do something, to yell at them and defend my honor. Two years ago, when I was eight years old, I probably would have done that. And, just as probably, I would've gotten some sort of punishment as a result. That wasn't desirable to me as a ten year old, especially seeing how it was more trouble than it was worth. Yelling at them, I found, wouldn't change them. Enduring a thousand punishments from them wouldn't get them to change their minds about me, nor would it get them to actually compliment or praise me.

And to think I had tried to get that from Aunt Minty earlier that very day.

With that thought, I finally excused myself and went up to my bedroom. I sniffled and whimpered, which was a bad thing as I knew Aunt Minty and Uncle Bryce would have a nutty if they heard me doing that. Fortunately, they didn't. This meant I could close the door to my room, get into my bed and pull up the covers without any problems. Which was exactly what I did.

And just like it always did whenever I was alone in my room, my mind thought about my parents. It had been three years since they died in the freak accident. Three years I've had to endure living with my aunt and uncle. And honestly, it hadn't gotten any easier. Living with them hadn't gotten easier. Knowing that my parents were gone hadn't gotten any easier either.

I pulled my knees up to my chest as I laid on my side. I missed them. Not a day went by where I didn't think about them at least once. What would my life be like if they hadn't died? What would it be like if I still lived with them, and we were still a happy, close, functioning family? I didn't know. And the worst part was that I would never know, as there was no way to bring my parents back and make my far-off dreams a reality.

With one last sniffle, I closed my eyes. I hoped it would get better. Oh, how I hoped things would get better…