The morning light hit her face at just the right angle through the shabby curtain hanging above her window. Rhea blinked away the sleep lingering in her heavy eyelids as she turned uncomfortably on the dingy cot, squeaking the springs as she moved and kicking up a new cloud of dust. No matter how much she cleaned and scrubbed the small room, the dust never seemed to leave.
She stared at the wall with disdain in her eyes, briefly wondering if she'd ever get a happy morning again in her life. Only a few years ago was she waking up to her mother's singing voice, the smell of sweet syrups and freshly baked bread permeating through the whole house, sleeping in a bed so comfy it felt like a sin to leave it at all. She counted the seconds until the knock she dreaded so well would come to make sure she was awake.
It came, sounding like ten hammers against the wood door, rattling the poor thing against its frame. "Wake up!" the sharp bark of her stepmother's voice came through muffled.
She took a deep breath, mulling over the possible punishments if she didn't move. After a few seconds, she threw back the tattered blanket and sat up, gathering her lengthy brown waves into a blue ribbon. The ribbon was one of the only things the stepmonster allowed her to keep from her mother. It was a cornflower blue, striking against her hair color, and embroidered with similar colored thread in a vintage yet still stylish floral pattern. It wasn't any old ribbon, the ones people used for gifts and such, it was made specifically for her and her hair.
Exchanging her night dress for her work dress, she pulled on too-small shoes and answered the door. Only a minute or so had passed when her stepmother called for her, but by the look on her face, it might as well have been an hour. "About time," Thelma sniffed indignantly, doing that thing where she curled her upper lip as she examined the young woman. "Breakfast was due five minutes ago. Inexcusable!"
"Good morning to you as well," Rhea said under her breath as she shouldered past the rather portly older woman.
"Get to it, then!" Her high pitched squeal could win a pig sound-alike contest, Rhea thought.
Heading for the kitchen, she pulled off a ragged apron from a hook on the wall and threw it over her head, tying it over her equally as ragged work dress. New clothes were a luxury for her these days as well. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink, getting to work. She hummed under her breath as she broke and fried eggs, bacon and toasted days-old bread. Four plates were dished up and handed to the maid who waited patiently for her to finish. The rest of the food which consisted of the hard crusted end of the loaf, half an egg, and grits from the bacon was dished onto a smaller plate. She took the scraps and sat on a milk crate just outside the kitchen door.
She wasn't allowed to eat with the family anymore. Not since the time she was fifteen and made Thelma's omelet mostly out of eggshells and cracked pepper. The woman's mouth was spewing drops of blood everywhere as she bellowed with such a force that turned her fat cheeks purple and made the vein that ran across her eyebrow and forehead pop with such a ferocity, Rhea almost wanted to poke at it. Her father couldn't even calm his wife after that day.
Much like with everything else that happened since he remarried, he would tell Rhea, "If you wouldn't provoke her so much, you wouldn't be punished so severely. It's out of my hands, Rhea."
She lost her room, her wardrobe, her privileges, and her life so far. The only thing she held onto was her steadfast stubbornness and the dignity of being the daughter of her mother, a cherished and well-liked woman named Flora. Flora was akin to a soft breeze through the cotton trees, the sound of their stiff leaves rattling in the wind, the lazy bob of a dandelion on a summer day. A lovely woman that cared deeply for her community, her marriage, and mostly her daughter. The day she died, a dark rain cloud was cast over the Fisher Manor and still hadn't lifted.
The day Rhea met Thelma and her daughters, that rain cloud turned into a monsoon. She was drowning every day she lived under the same roof as them, even more so now that she was nearing twenty-one and still hadn't sought higher education or a husband. The people around her neighborhood knew the circumstances, of course. Thelma worked her to the bone cooking and cleaning and tending to everyone but herself, keeping her busy and too tired to care about much else. Anyone new didn't know that the Fisher family even had another daughter.
The crust of bread she nibbled at turned her whole mouth dry and left a sour taste as she realized it'd been ten years so far since her mother passed. Her father married quickly so she wouldn't be long without a "maternal figure" around, as he put it. The bitter treatment started almost immediately when he wasn't looking, which spurred on the rebellion in her heart. First from Thelma, then from Scarlett. Her stepsister, a year or so older than her, with a face like a frog: big dark eyes and a wide mouth that always sported her signature red—scarlet—lipstick, treated her like the bottom of the barrel servant she thought Rhea was. She had unruly straw-colored hair and a nose that resembled her mother's: upturned and flat, like a pig's.
The youngest daughter of Thelma, Alice, was a tiny thing. Pale and fragile with hair like a spider's web, fine and wispy. She was only two when she came with her mother and sister. Rhea never treated her unfairly, and she grew to be resentful of her mother and older sister. For a now-twelve year old, she played her part well, but did her best to make things easy on Rhea. They were close like sisters should be.
Henri Jr., her actual half-brother, had been born three years ago, and was a quiet and easy child, similar to Alice. He observed everything with his doe-like brown eyes, and he had a tuft of dark hair, the same color as their father's. A fine little gentleman in his own right, he had his fair share of rough days. Most of the time, he preferred the company of Alice and Rhea, rarely crying for his mother or father. Rhea wondered if he even knew his father, as he'd been absent more in recent years after the birth.
Henri Sr., she thought dismally, a man who had once been full of life and honor, now whittled down to nothing short of a workhorse. He had gained quite a bit of weight in his middle age, probably from eating food from the town's inn so often. He was what was called a port master, the man that oversaw the comings and goings of the docks and what was brought in. He worked his way up to that position from a humble dockworker, around the time he first met her mother. He was well known in town, as well as by the royal family who had their own personal fleet of ships almost permanently docked these days. According to Rhea's little wallflower, Alice had said that he'd been coming home less and less these weeks, apparently busy with securing trade routes with neighboring kingdoms.
Of all the hurt she'd faced since the funeral, seeing her father become someone she no longer recognized hurt most of all.
A fluttering of wings from a bird flying away and the squeaky creak of the kitchen door's hinge brought Rhea back to the present. She set her plate of food down on the ground as she turned to see Alice peeking out the door, searching for her. The little girl's brilliantly blue eyes settled on her and the happiness that washed over her features brought a warmth to Rhea's chest. "There you are!" the girl said happily but quietly. She stepped out barefoot, closing the door behind her.
Alice eyed the plate of food when she walked closer. "You should eat more, you know. It's not healthy."
Rhea shrugged but nodded, "I know. I'm just not very hungry this morning."
"Well, I've got good news for you!" Alice grinned, teetering back on her heels playfully.
"Divorce?"
Alice wrinkled her nose, "No!"
"Right, right, because you'll lose the best sister ever," Rhea said jokingly.
The little girl nodded affirmatively, giving her a glare. "I know it's bad, but it's only Mother and Scarlett, right? Soon, Henri Jr. will be on our side, too! We'll outnumber the lot of them!"
Rhea tilted her head back in a laugh, "Of course, of course, how could I forget? Anyway, what's this news of yours?"
"Good news, Rhea. It's great, actually," Alice continued to put off the actual news as she paced around, pretending to look serious. "Honestly can't believe that you're not sitting on the edge of that milk crate, begging me for details."
Rhea rolled her eyes, chuckling, "Alright, out with it, Ali." She knew using the fond nickname she had for her little sister usually broke the ruse.
Alice giggled and finally turned to face her, "Okay, okay," she held up her hands in surrender, "so you know how Father's been away a lot?"
Rhea nodded.
"Well, as it so happens, he's been working extra hard to take us on a vacation!" the little girl grinned, clapping her hands together. "Well, actually, it's a work trip. But he wants to brings us with, and we'll be staying at that fancy inn in Silverwater."
"Silverwater? That's quite far." Rhea turned her eyes skyward for a moment, trying to remember where on her father's maps that was. "That's at least two days one way on a ship. I don't imagine I'll be going, though?"
When she looked back at Alice, she noticed the girl looked sullen, "I tried to get them to bring you along. Mother said over her dead body, and Father said until you learn to act like a proper young lady, you won't be going anywhere. Besides, they said they need someone here to help Portia with keeping the house in shape."
"It's okay. I don't like ships all that much anyway," Rhea lied, knowing that the memories of her last sea trip were beginning to fade since they were so long ago. She knew she loved the smell of the ocean and the breeze running through her thick hair.
"You'll be without us for a while, I think. At least a week." Alice left the unsaid lingering between them.
Rhea caught on to the weight of her words. One week without the hovering, and the overbearing, and the insults. One week of peace and quiet to do whatever she pleased, since she knew Portia didn't need any help. That woman was capable of running her own militia, let alone an empty house. Rhea reached out to take the girl's hands, squeezing them softly, "You've just given me the best news I've had in a while, Alice. Thank you!"
Alice smiled and shimmied a little in happiness, "Make the most of it!"
"I will."