"Mia!" I called, beating her playfully, and that guy smiled, saying it was just a prank. It had been a month since we left the orphanage for our foster parents' house. Things hadn't been going well at home, though. The strange occurrences started three weeks after we moved in, making me realize I wasn't hallucinating.
I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner after sending the chef out. I wanted to know what was in the meat they had brought for us to eat. As I was about to cook, I felt a hand wrapped around my waist. I shouted, but before I could react, I felt a sting in my neck. That was the last thing I remembered.
When I came to, I was on my bed.As I sat up, Mira was nowhere to be seen. I felt weak and disoriented, my eyes scanning the room until they landed on a reddish liquid on my duvet. My skirt was stained with blood, and I had no memory of what had happened between being in the kitchen and waking up on my bed. Just then, Mira walked in, her eyes swollen from crying.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, holding my stomach as I moved towards her. She looked pale and weak. "I'm good," she replied softly, but her voice trembled.
I reached her side and took her hand. "You're not fine," I said, concern etched on my face. "I don't know... I've had this stomachache," she whispered.
"Since when?" I asked, momentarily forgetting my own situation.
"I woke up in the sitting room, and it's been paining me like hell," she replied, wincing in pain.
Just as I was about to ask her to sit down, our foster mother entered the room. Her eyes scanned the space, taking in the situation. "What's going on, girls? You know you can always trust me," she said, her voice gentle.
I quickly intervened, trying to downplay the situation. "Nothing, Mum. She's just a bit sick."
But our foster mother's gaze lingered on us, her expression boiling with concern.
"You don't look well either," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Mia managed to whisper, "Mum, my stomach aches." Our foster mother's expression softened, and she helped Mia onto the bed.
"Are you on your period?" she asked gently.
Mia shook her head. "No, Mum."
As our foster mother reached for the duvet to cover Mia, her eyes widened in shock. A bloodstain! She quickly covered Mia up, her face a mask of concern.
But our foster mother's gaze lingered on us, her expression that of genuine concern.
"You don't look well either," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.Mia managed to whisper
"Mum, my stomach aches." Our foster mother's expression softened, and she helped Mia onto the bed.
"Are you on your period?" she asked gently.
Mia shook her head. "No, Mum."
As our foster mother reached for the duvet to cover Mia, her eyes widened in shock. A bloodstain! She quickly covered Mia up, her face an epitome of concern.
As I pondered the mysterious bloodstains on our clothes, despite neither of us being on our period, our foster mother returned with medication and a glass of water. Mia took the medicine and soon felt relieved, drifting off to sleep. I decided to freshen up, taking a bath before leaving the room.
As I descended the stairs, I realized it had been days since I'd seen our foster father. However, I'd been hearing a masculine voice in the house, which didn't belong to him. The voice seemed to belong to a teenager. Curious, I paused on the stairs as the voice escalated into an argument with our foster mother, who was climbing the stairs.
I quickly retreated up the stairs, peeking around the corner to see a guy around our age rushing up the stairs, with our foster mother in pursuit. They appeared to be having a heated disagreement. The boy's face was obscured by a black hoodie.
"It's not me, Mum! I didn't do it!" he exclaimed.
"You're the only guy in this house. Your dad's away," our foster mother replied firmly.
The boy shot back, "We have a security guard outside, Mum."
Our foster mother retorted, "And you think he'd dare to enter this place?"
The argument paused as they reached what seemed to be the boy's room.
"Eric! You had better stop it if you're the one. I remember giving you rules to follow. They're your sisters"
"Sisters? You didn't give birth to them. When dad suddenly wanted girls , you promised you will never forsake me. But recently, you've been head over heels for this girls"
"Eric. We have to obey your father. This girls are also born of someone and I have never for once forsake you. You still remain my dear son"
"Between I and you, you know dad is capable of doing that! You know quite well he turned me to someone the society devoid. He turned me to g.." His mother covered his mouth with her hands.
"Shut up Eric" He removed her hands from his mouth rudely.
"What do I expect from you? You're always suspecting me and always believing him" He said and went into the room banging the door loudly.
"Eric! Eric!" His mother shouted banging her fist on the door. "Eric open this door" She fired.
She stormed to the sitting room and I gently walked back to our room replaying the whole scenario in my head. Mia was still sleeping soundly so I laid down quietly.
"He turned me to what?" He wasn't able to complete that statement before his mother cut him off.
I tried taking my mind off it but I couldn't help but come to a conclusion that we were in a complicated family not a happy family as Mia had thought. Even if I speak to her about it, she still believed her idea of we being in a happy family.
I was still pondering on this when Mia screamed from her sleep. I ran to her side and she was swallowed in her own sweat. She clutches her stomach. I was trying to hold her when I realized my hands were wet. She had bled on the bed and was still bleeding!