chapter four: The little demon, aka her stepdaughter

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈
Olivia lifted her son, Alexander, from the bathtub and wrapped him in a towel. She walked down the corridor toward Romazaria’s room, whose door was decorated with hazardous warning stickers. She opened it.

“Zaria, go on and bathe. The bathroom is free. Your dad will be home soon. We’re running late for the Gordons’ party.”

Zaria lay on her tummy reading a book on the floor, her legs swaying gently in the air. “I don’t want to go.”

“This is not up for discussion. Go bathe.”

“I said I don’t want to go, and you can’t make me.”

“You want to put that to the test?” Olivia asked, locking eyes with her.

Zaria gave up the stare-down and stormed out in a huff.

“Oh Lord, give me strength,” Olivia murmured, turning back to Alexander’s room.

In the kiddy-decorated bathroom, Zaria glared at the empty tub. She grabbed the stopper and plugged it, then opened both taps, watching the water fill while crossing her arms and tapping her foot restlessly.

When the tub was full, she left and locked the bathroom door behind her. She went to her room, locked the door, turned on the stereo, and cranked the volume to full blast. Picking up her purple comb, she began brushing her hair with an eerily creepy smile.

In Alexander’s room, Olivia sighed. Day by day, her stepdaughter was becoming more challenging.

When Martin got home, water was cascading down the corridor and the stairs. He hurried up the carpet-drenched stairs, calling out his wife’s name, worried something had happened.

Olivia appeared at his urgent calling.

“What happened now?” she asked, swinging the door open. She stepped into the water and groaned inwardly. Looking at Martin, who was trying to open the bathroom door, she hissed, “Zaria!”

“What’s going on here?”

“Martin, stay with Alexander. Don’t come out,” she called over her shoulder, closing the door behind her. “It’s your daughter’s way of rebelling against Clive Gordon’s party.”

“This ends now. This is getting out of hand,” a furious Martin said as he headed toward her room.

“Let her be. You’re playing right into her hands. Hand me the spare keys from the drawer.”

Martin fetched the keys and handed them over. Olivia opened the bathroom door, waded in, and unplugged the tub.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Olivia said nothing. Sorry wouldn’t fix this.

She was silently fuming. Martin could tell how upset she was, yet she never showed her anger.

“She can’t keep doing this.”

Olivia marched to Zaria’s room. She tried the door and wasn’t surprised to find it locked. The maid handed her a bunch of spare keys. She sorted through them, found the right one, unlocked the door, and stood in the doorway with hands on hips.

Zaria stood in front of the wardrobe, picking out clothes.

“You win, Zaria,” Olivia said wearily.

The girl raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

“We’re not attending the Gordons’ party. Lord knows what drama you plan to pull. But keep this in mind: you’re grounded till all eternity.” Olivia walked in and yanked the stereo from the socket.

“What are you doing?”

“No TV, no radio, and lights out at half-past seven.”

Zaria threw the jeans she was holding at her, eyes blazing with defiance. “You can’t punish me. You’re not my mother.”

“Thank God for that; if I were, Lord help us both,” Olivia replied. “Now get out here and help me mop the mess you created.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t remember saying that was up for debate. That was an order.”

Zaria left the room and went to her bedroom, where she found Martin sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling wet socks off his feet.

“I’m sorry. I’ll sit her down…”

“She scares me, Martin. It’s like I bring out the worst in her,” Olivia whispered.

Zaria was only a child, but the evil in her always sent a chill down Olivia’s spine.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

Years passed, and Zaria grew into a strikingly beautiful girl. But with each year, her meanness and cruelty intensified tenfold.

What infuriated her most was that no matter what she did, Olivia remained patient and understanding.

Zaria longed to see her lose her cool just once.

“It’s almost that time of year,” Olivia said as they sat at the breakfast table on a weekend morning. She poured tea into their cups. “Your thirteenth birthday is coming up. What would you like me to get you?”

“I’m good. Don’t bother,” Zaria replied, stirring her tea.

“Oh, come on. There must be something you want. A birthday party maybe? We could invite all your friends from school. Or a trip to Disneyland, or anywhere you like.”

“You can’t give me what I want.”

“Try me. You might be surprised.”

Zaria sipped her tea and looked up, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

Olivia took a deep breath, realizing she had walked right into the girl’s trap.

“Is that so?” the girl stared at her, holding Olivia’s gaze.

Olivia tried to smile, but it was strained. “If it’s something reasonable, why not?”

“Okay. I want everything you stole from me returned.”

Olivia’s sharp intake of breath filled the room.A sardonic smile tugged at the girl’s lips.

“You know the life you’re living? Your happiness-it was all stolen from us. Think you can let go of my dad so we can go back to the family we were before you ruined it all?”

Olivia exhaled sharply, unable to look away from the girl. Seven years had passed, and her tongue had only grown sharper and more unrestrained.

“What I really want, though, is to see my mom. Think you can charm your lover into letting me see her, even if just for a second?”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm.In all the years Amelia had been incarcerated, there had been no contact between them.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that. Maybe you should ask for something else.”

“Oh, here I was thinking you were all mighty and powerful. Turns out you’re just talk.”

Olivia took a sip of her coffee, berating herself for stirring the hornet’s nest.

“Don’t you get tired?”

“Tired?”

“It must be hard to keep pretending to love me when all you want is to murder me.”

“You may not believe it, but I do love you.”

“Oh, I know. It’s pathetic watching you trip over yourself trying to be an exemplary stepmother.”

Olivia sighed and murmured under her breath, “Serenity now, insanity later,” her mantra for the past seven years.

The sound of the hooter reached them.

“The school bus is here,”Olivia said, thankful for the timely interruption.

Zaria slipped off her chair, grabbed her bag, and headed toward the door.“All I want is to see my mom. Next time, don’t make grand gestures if you know you can’t deliver.”

Olivia put down the teapot and pulled her chair closer. “Alex, eat your food; it’s getting cold,” she said to her six-year-old son, who, unlike her, was smart enough to steer clear of Sahara.

Romazaria’s birthday fell on a Monday.

That day, she sat alone in the school courtyard, detached from everyone else, sketching in her pad. Tears fell onto the page as she whispered a prayer-the same one she had prayed for the past seven years.

Please come back to me. I miss you so much, Mom. Please don’t ever forget me.

She wiped her tears and looked up-and through the blur, she saw a familiar face, someone she hadn’t seen in years. Glancing back at her sketchbook, she saw the drawing she had just made resembled the woman standing behind the wire fence.

Sahara stood up, hesitating as she stepped closer. The nearer she came, the clearer it became: her birthday wish, after seven long years, had finally come true.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈

Martin and Olivia arrived home to find Zaria playing with toys scattered across the lounge carpet. She wore a new dress.

“Did you get her new toys?” Martin asked.

“No,” Olivia replied, shuddering at the memory of the previous years fiasco.“You heard what she said. I didn’t want a repeat of last year.”

She recalled how their little demon of a stepdaughter had gathered all the birthday presents and burned them during the night-in the bathtub-after everyone had gone to bed.

“Is the maid baking?” Olivia asked as her stomach rumbled. The delicious aroma filled the house.

“Dad, you’re home!” Zaria looked up from her toys. It looked as if the entire toy store had been emptied onto the carpet.

The couple exchanged surprised glances. Zaria ran to Martin and hugged him, then turned to Olivia,“Hi, Alexander’s mom.”

“Princess, you called me Dad?”

“Of course, Dad! What else am I supposed to call you?” she laughed.

Olivia stepped closer and placed her hand on Zaria’s forehead, checking her temperature.

“Zaria, are you okay?”

The girl’s jovial mood unnerved her. Since moving in with them, she had never once called Martin “Dad” nor addressed Olivia by any name other than “mistress.”

“Yes,”Zaria replied dismissively, then turned to her father. “Dad, I have a surprise for you.”

Her smile was brighter than the sun.

The young couple was taken aback-Zaria smiling and laughing was unheard of since she had come to live with them.

It was always either silent resentment or sulking.

“You’ve never called me Dad since you arrived here.”

“Maybe…” a voice behind them interrupted.

They turned to see Amelia Deboius emerge from the kitchen carrying a cake on a tray. “Because you never gave her a reason to.”

Martin felt the wind knocked out of him as he stared at his ex-wife. He couldn’t fathom how she was free and not in a psychiatric hospital.

◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈◈ ━━━━━━━ ⸙ ━━━━━━━ ◈