Mother the unconditional love

"Anastasia, give me back my locket!" screamed Layla. I shook my head. It was mine—the gift my parents had given me on my first birthday. It has been with me since then, but today Layla wants it. She had already taken everything, but this was the last thing my parents left for me.

"Anastasia, you bitch," she screamed, and the locket broke into pieces. My eyes began to well with tears as I knelt down. It was broken and couldn’t be put back in its original position.

"It’s broken, just like you, stealer," she shouted and slapped me.

"Cook for us, you worthless bitch. You spoil my whole mood," she said, going back to her room. I cried hard, biting my lips. The beads were lying on the floor, and it aches my heart. It was broken and couldn’t be repaired with anything. I shook my head, tucked the left bead into my dress' pocket, and got to my feet.

Aunt needs her dinner on time or else she will take mine and won’t let me eat. I went back to her kitchen and made dinner.

Being an orphan, I was humiliated by everybody, called names like "a maid," "a murderer of her own parents," and "a lonely bitch." I was beaten on a day-to-day basis and treated as a servant in my own home.

"Anastasia, bitch, come here!" My aunt shouted. I went to her room, looking at her. Her face completely coated in rage, ready to pounce at me.

She pointed to the sheets and asked, "Why didn't you replace my sheets?"

I didn't have time to change because I had been working since the morning. I didn’t get time for anything. Sundays are the fun days for everyone but for me it was the worst day. I have to clean the house twice with all the chores.

“I—"

"You become lazy day by day; your monthly allowance is deducted; you won't get anything," she shouted. I didn't object. She gave me a few pennies, called a monthly allowance, which is even less than a maid makes. I changed her sheets and went back to my work, holding my weak body.

I still remember the happy days I spent with my family, the way my father made me laugh, the food my mother made—everything became a delusion. I still remember the day; my parents wanted me to go with them, but it isn't fitting that I didn't go with them. After learning of their accident and the death of my family, my body could not comprehend that they were not with me.

It took me a month to recover from the shock and understand that my parents had become stars.

The bright, smiling star in the sky.

I talked to them for hours, asking them why they left me here with those strangers. I always consoled my heart, knowing they were with me in a new form.

I was in depression after learning about their deaths. A ten-year-old girl who loves to laugh and smile had spent her days in her room, shouting at her parents' photos and asking them why they left her with those people whom she hadn't even met.

And the ironic thing was that the girl was me.

I was forced to live with my paternal aunt and her annoying daughter. My cousin, Layla, does horrendous things and blames me. I was punished for her wrongdoings.

My dad left me some money and a house for my marriage. My aunt only kept me because she wanted my money and this beautiful house, which my dad designed for his family. He didn't know the day would arrive when his only daughter would be the servant in her own house.

My aunt had already taken my expensive dresses, my jewellery, and my mother's accessories and given them to her daughter. Now she wanted that money to make me a beggar and let me rot in the streets. Not only this, but she also tore my family photos and burned them in front of my eyes. I begged her not to do this, but she kicked me in the stomach and slapped me. My face was swollen for a few days.

My aunt's daughter, Layla, was the most popular girl at the university. She was ashamed of me because I don't have classy clothes like her. Her friends bully me. I don't have any friends because I was a poor child, and they belong to a rich family. She was a confident girl, unlike me. I was a simple and low-key girl at the university.

My father belongs to a quite rich family, and my mother belongs to a middle-class family. They both were high school sweethearts, and my mother was so beautiful. My father used to tell me the stories of his rivals, but thinking about the beautiful days makes my eyes fill with tears and my heart with sorrow.

Aunt shouted, interrupting my thoughts,

"Anastasia, you damn girl. Bring my dinner; did you want to starve me to death so you can take everything from my daughter?" She shouted and went back to her room.