Evie

Upstairs I hear more excited female voices from this side of my stepmother Laura’s door. Bracing myself for their chatter, quietly I let myself inside with her breakfast.

“The jewel is perfect, Darling, it will go so well with your gown,” Stepmother is crooning over Yelena who’s admiring her reflection in the full-length mirror.

“Do you think Mr. Livingston will notice me if I wear it?”

“How could he not, my dove? Your beauty is sure to capture the eyes of every man in Mistleton.”

“Oh, Mother,” Yelena titters and holds her cheeks delightedly.

Neither of them have noticed me, yet, so I take a moment to observe them both from the other side of the richly decorated room.

Both still dressed in their white lacy nightgowns, they’re like a pair of nearly identical dolls, though at thirty-six, Stepmother is beginning to show her age just a little around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. But Yelena is in the full bloom of youth, positively radiating with inner light, more beautiful than anyone else as she admires the ruby brooch she wears in the mirror.

That jewel—normally I don’t pay much attention to such things. Yelena has hoards of jewelry and wears the pieces unreservedly, while I possess only a single brooch passed down to me from my mother—a ruby exactly like the one Yelena wears now.

I gasp with recognition, and both women turn to me in unison. A look of panic crosses Yelena’s features, and she covers the jewel with a guilty hand.

“What are you doing with my mother’s brooch?” I demand.

“Don’t be upset, Evangeline,” Yelena pleads. “I was only trying it on.”

I feel angry and defensive; Sister could only have gotten that if she’d gone through my room deliberately. More than that, I feel hurt. Maybe no one else in this house cherishes my mother’s memory, but to me, she’s more precious than anything. I won’t let anyone touch her keepsake so casually!

“That brooch is all I have of her, I never gave you permission to wear that,” I say with more boldness than I usually show to these two, striding over to her. “How dare you go in my room and steal my things?”

“How dare?” Suddenly Stepmother is before me; her hand descends with a vicious slap. “How dare?” She is shaking with rage. “How dare you raise your voice to my daughter? Filthy wench!”

This isn’t my first time being slapped by this woman, nor is it the first time she’s drawn such a distinction between me, her stepchild, and Yelena, her own flesh and blood. It’s no secret in this house which daughter holds my parents’ favor, and I’ve learned to accept that. But this is too far, even for me.

“That’s my mother’s brooch,” I stand my ground beneath Laura’s furious glare. “I won’t let her have it!”

“I’m only borrowing it for today,” Yelena pleads. “It will go so well with my gown, just imagine it. I don’t have any rubies set in gold like this, you must let me borrow it, Sister. Just for today?” Her big watery gray eyes blink at me so innocently, I can almost believe she doesn’t realize how awful she’s being.

“Yelena,” I try to make her understand, “you have so many jewels, but this is all I possess in the world. It’s all I have left of my mother, it’s too precious to be lent, even to you—”

Another slap, this one hurts more. I put my hand to my cheek and see blood’s been drawn. Then I see Stepmother turning her ring back around so it faces the right way again, and I understand she cut me deliberately.

“Too precious? Too precious for my Yelena?” she laughs scornfully, exasperatedly. “Is there such a jewel in this world? I should like to see it,” she laughs again, then spits suddenly, and it gets in my eye. I wipe it with a trembling hand, shaking with rage and with hurt.

“Are you so selfish that you cannot lend your sister this trinket for a single day? Or are you just jealous that she will be crowned May Queen if she wears it?” Laura scoffs again.

I don’t care about the stupid title—I was never going to be in the running for the competition and they both know it. All I want—all I want—

“Please,” I say through my tears. “Give me back my mother’s brooch.”

“I see you’ve yet to learn your place,” Stepmother’s voice is cold, and a flood of fear washes over me.

“Please—”

 All of the sudden her hand is on the back of my neck. She bends me double and thrusts my face into the wash basin filled with icy water. I scream and bubbles fill my vision. She holds me there, berating me though I can’t hear her words through the water rushing in my ears. I fight her to no avail; Laura’s strength is monstrous. I’ve never understood how a lady can be this powerful.

I don’t know how long she holds me here while I thrash helplessly. I start to think she really will murder me when suddenly I’m pulled back up. Vaguely, I’m aware of Yelena pleading for me, though not desperately. Her voice is almost playful, as though she were reasoning with a child.

“Now, Mother, don’t be unkind to Evangeline, you know she didn’t mean it. Of course she’ll let me borrow her mother’s brooch, she knows it’s only for today.” She bends so her pretty face fills my vision, and she smiles. “I’m sure she wants me to look my best. After all, we’re sisters, aren’t we?”

Not for the first time I ask myself whether it’s all an act with her. She’s self-centered to a fault. She really does believe the world revolves around her, and she’s never experienced cruelty, so it’s possible she doesn’t understand how much it hurts to be slapped and drowned. She couldn’t really smile like that, I tell myself, if she knew. There’s just no way anyone could be that evil.

“I can borrow it,” she prompts me, “right, Sister?”

Looking at her through a dripping veil of hair, barely biting back my tears, I can only nod. Laura hurls me to the floor with the gesture, and I back away from her instinctually, fearing a kick or worse.

“Get out,” she says, her voice full of contempt. “Help the servants prepare Yelena’s bath.”

I rise without a word and start for the door. Then Yelena stops me, her hand on my sleeve. I turn back and she’s waiting with open arms to embrace me. I allow the gesture stiffly, refusing to look in Stepmother’s direction.

“Thank you, Evangeline. You’re the best sister in the whole world!”

It’s not her fault, I think as she hugs me warmly. Yelena is spoiled but innocent; our parents made her this way. Someone who was raised so gently, having everything she ever wanted given to her by a loving hand, someone like that couldn’t possibly understand how selfish she’s being, or how badly she’s hurting me. It’s really not her fault.

Yelena steps back and smiles beautifully. I glance down to her nightgown where my mother’s brooch is still pinned, and my heart squeezes painfully within me.

I’m such a fool, I think as I turn from the room and make my way back down the hall, furiously wiping the tears from my eyes. Why did I ever fight back, when it was something my little sister wanted? I should know it by now, the unwritten law of this household.

What Yelena wants, Yelena gets.