Lydia

The taste of the bar of soap used to hand wash her father's trousers injected bitterness into Andrea's cheeks. Floral notes of artificial jasmine mixed with the taste of battery acid on her tongue brought tears to her eyes.

"Maybe this time you will learn not to talk back to me." Lydia yanked on the hairs at the nape of Andrea's neck as she pumped the wide bar in and out of her mouth. "If your mother was not already dead, I would murder her for leaving me such an ungrateful brat." She pushed Andrea into the sink in the small corner of the service room. Rotten wooden brooms perched beside the white porcelain sink, thick spider webs weaved them together as the splinters of the old handles stuck out, pleading to be put out of their misery.

Andrea composed herself, the middle of her stomach burning from the swallowed product, but also from something else. She did not need to go to the bathroom, yet the pressure coming from the sides of her bowels made her think otherwise. The pain shot between her hip bones inside of her body, in an area that had never bothered her before.

"And don't even think about coming out here until you have cleaned up the mess that dog made." Lydia slammed the door that connected the service area to the kitchen.

The girl felt hot tears fill her eyes but she held them back. It was that same stubbornness that chained her to the consequences of her actions that would not allow her to shed a tear for that woman.

"Hija, estás bien?" Doña Raquel waddled over from her side of the room, her hunched back figure hustling to Andrea, carrying the weight of twenty years with the family. Her uniform was worn, small holes in her once stark apron, thinning gray hair neatly tucked into a small bun at the bottom of her head. "Don’t worry about the dog, I will clean it. That woman is going to get what she has coming for her." Raquel used a kitchen rag to wipe Andrea's tears. "Were you able to get breakfast? Can I make you some eggs?"

Andrea shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I need to get dressed for school. It was my fault." She gave the old woman, who had once changed her diapers and then comforted her the day her mother had unexpectedly passed away, a side hug. Raquel nodded as she watched the girl walk into the now empty kitchen.

In the spacious and blindingly white kitchen, Andrea pulled at the double doors of the oversized refrigerator. Her friends would say they only saw something that big in American movies, but she was used to having the best of everything, even kitchen appliances. A red apple glimmered in the full produce drawer and she took it out before rushing up to the third floor of her father's house.

"Good morning Ms. Andrea," Rosa said with a smile and a sympathetic stare over the brisk strokes of her mopping. She had witnessed the whole exchange earlier but had scurried away to clean a different part of the house. She was good like that, not adding embarrassment to the occasion.

Andrea gave her a smile back as she took the stairs two at a time, careful not to make any noise when she went past Lydia and her father's room. With a sigh of relief, she closed the door to her own room, decorated with porcelain dolls, dressed in white and pink frill dresses. Her grandmother had gotten them for her when she visited France not too long ago. 

Her outfit for the day had already been laid out for her on her bed, which was convenient on days like these where she had to spend extra time washing her face and covering the bruises on her arms. She had perfected the routine, making sure to ice and bandage away any evidence of the truth.

A stabbing pain hit her insides once again and she bent over holding her stomach. Confused, she decided to sit on the toilet and see if she could find some relief. What she found instead was bright red blood. Ice cold panic shot through her entire body as she put her underwear back on and stood up. She quickly cataloged each of the feelings that swirled into her brain: fear, excitement, embarrassment, pain, sadness. 

Andrea’s mother had explained what the red blood would be and that it would show up unexpectedly. Knives poked inside her stomach and all around as the pain came and went. She sat on the floor assessing her options. As she did so, the door to her room swung open, causing the curtains to flail with the gust of wind that came from the motion.

“Are you kidding me? Are you making your father wait? It is bad enough he has to drive you to school. Come downstairs now!” Andrea closed her eyes as she anticipated the back of Lydia’s hand against her cheek. With those prophetic thoughts, a blow struck her face as the pain inside her grumbled loudly.

“Now!” She closed the door behind her. Lydia’s favorite hobby was asserting dominance through her daily strikes, making up reasons why Andrea needed discipline. When Andrea’s friend’s marveled at the beautiful and elegant life she led in her father’s gigantic house, Andrea wished feverishly that she could tell them the truth. She knew better than to expose Lydia like that.

With no time to lose, she stuffed rolled up toilet paper into her underwear and put on her school outfit. Swinging her brand new purple backpack onto her shoulders, the trinkets that hung from the keychains mocked her. Everyone envied that her father bought her new things every time he traveled to the United States. Would they envy the pain that came because of it?

“Miss Andrea, your father is waiting.” Small Doña Raquel was waiting at the foot of the staircase with something in her hand. “You better hurry before La Señora Lydia sees you.” Andrea felt her slip something small into her hands. The car honked as she scooted quickly across the long living room toward the four car garage. As she approached the door handle she opened her first: three days worth of Lydias’ blood pressure medicine. 

The reality of what Doña Raquel had done overcame her as a jelly-like substance started to slide in between her legs. Paralyzed from the terror that Lydia was lurking in the shadows, about to pounce on her for depriving the life saving medication from her step-mother, Andrea turned to check her surroundings. The only person around her was Rosa, mopping the far end of the outside den.

The dense blood continued to pool uncomfortably as Andrea decided to walk back to the kitchen and confront Doña Raquel. “I cannot take this from her, Doña. I think I understand what you are doing but we cannot do this.”

“It will set you free.” Doña Raquel grabbed Andrea’s closed fist in hers with pleading eyes. The crow’s nest framing her dark black eyes that had kept the family’s secrets for all those decades.

“I am sorry, Doña.” She whispered almost inaudibly.

“What the hell is going on here?” Lydia’s voice boomed as the sound of her footsteps thundered behind her. A single strand of sweat fell from Andrea’s forehead down her nose and onto the floor. She turned around to face Lydia, knowing she had a decision to make.

“Lydia I’m sorry,” Andrea said, stretching out her open palm that contained her three white pills.

The forty-year-old woman stared in a confused stupor, grabbing the small girl's hand viciously, registering what she was seeing. Slowly, a grin overcame Lydia's thin lips. Evil spread over her face, blooming from her mouth all the way out to her ears. The realization of the consequences for this life-threatening act of insubordination painted victory across her elongated oval face. For the first time, Andrea’s punishment will be justified. 

“No, Andrea. Thank you.”