The Poppies were wilting.
Well, even if they started wilting, they never succeeded. Their red petals were just browning, but I could fix that -- I always fixed it. Doesn't matter how but none of my plants have wilted. Strange huh? I'd been gardening since I was a little girl and not one flower, not one crop, has died if I took care of it.
I stood in my bedroom, plants were on every shelf imaginable. Different flowers, vegetables and fruits. It was a sight to see, actually. None of my family wanted to come in here; because they were afraid of bugs (not one bug would eat my plants, if I had anything to say about it). It wasn't just the bugs; none of my family liking me was the other thing.
I'm exaggerating.
It was my mother and my older brother who hated me. Arthur always hated me, I don't know why. At school, I've heard rumors. Bad ones, ones that made me cry at night. Rumors that my mom wasn't really my mom. Compared to Arthur, our little brother Gabe, and our baby sister Amelie, I looked nothing like them. They were brown haired, hazel eyes, tan skin, like our parents. I was pale as snow, fiery red hair, and blue eyes. Dad always said I got my hair from Grandma Bea, which always made me feel better, but not enough. Pushing the thought out of my head, I finished watering the Poppy flowers.
"There," I murmured, pushing a piece of red hair behind my ear. My bronze bracelet brushed against my ear and I smiled. Grandma Bea gave it to me for my 14th birthday last year. It's some sort of ancient bracelet that is very important, she keeps telling me. It's unbelievable that I haven't managed to lose it yet seeing as my 15th birthdays next week.
"Yvette!" I heard the sound of mom's voice downstairs. She always used my full name, Yvette. I hated that name, I prefered Vetta, or Vet, even Evie -- even though it was a name of a Pokemon. My mother saying it was even worse. She always gave me the cold shoulder, cringed when I called her mom, never looked me in the eye. I frowned and looked at my feet. Red toenails, to match my hair. I had to do them by myself, mom never helped me with anything.
"Yvette! Dinner is ready!" Her high pitched voice rang again. But there was a sad tone in her voice, always sad when I was around. My frown worsened as I opened the door to my bedroom. Right across from mine was Arthur's room. He wasn't that older than me. A year and two months, he just turned 16. On his door was a "do not enter sign", as well as caution signs and duct tape. The arguments he had with our parents was nerve racking. They wanted him to take them down, he called them bad parents, same old same old. I turned my head to the next door, Gabe's room. He was eight, and inside was what any eight year old boy had in their room. Toy soldiers, posters of video game characters, etcetera. I didn't like going in there; I like staying outside with the plants, and the birds, and the nature.
Realizing I was late for dinner, I quickly ran downstairs -- almost tripping. The stairs entered to the outside of the dining room, and as soon as I rounded the corner, I was greeted with a green eyed glare. My throat went dry as a sat across from Arthur, and right by Amelie in her high chair. Arthur's eyes didn't leave mine, and I glanced down at my plate. A groan slipped out of my mouth when I noticed the steak on the plate. Mom and dad knew full well I was a vegetarian since I was 12; but they kept putting meat on my plate, though. It usually got fed to the dog, Buster. I quietly forked a pile of green beans in my mouth. Cold and slimy. I grimaced, earning my mother to glare at me for a split second.
"Vet, how's your garden going?" I heard dad ask as a swallowed the green lump. My head shot up, and I looked him in his hazel eyes. I've always wished I got his eye color. "I'm sure your mother would like to know about it-"
Before he could finish his sentence -- or I could respond -- Arthur decided to intervene.
"Are you kidding dad!?" Arthur fumed. All eyes were set on him. Three sets of green, one set of brown, and one set of blue. No one was eating anymore. "I am sick and tired of pretending that everything is okay!"
No one said a word, and I gripped my fork. I knew Arthur was hot headed, but not... not like this. My other hand nervously played with a piece of my hair, twirling it around my finger. It was a habit inherited from my Grandma.
"God! You think we don't know!? You think we don't know that Yvette isn't mom's real daughter!?" Arthur shouted, his green eyes full of hate. I gasped, as well as everyone else. Amelie looked at her elder brother with a confused look.
"Arthur! Stop!" My father said, gritting his teeth. He was gripping so hard on his knife that his tan knuckles were turning white. His hazel eyes had darkened, and his mouth twitched.
"It's true! You don't think Noel told me the whole story?!"
I stiffened.
Noel was our older brother. He was eight when I was born, of course he knew the story. Noel never talked to me on his own accord. He hated me more than mom and Arthur combined. It was no surprised when he emancipated himself at 16. I can still remember his cold eyes trained on me.
"Arthur," our mother muttered. Was it our mother? Was she my mother? Should I call her Katrina now? I suddenly stopped twirling my hair.
"He told me that thing just showed up at the door," he used the word thing like an insult. "Then he told me that you argued about it for days. That dad cheated on mom and the woman dumped the baby here like the trash she is!"
That stung.
"Stop," I whispered, tears brewing. I stared motionless at my plate, not wanting to let Arthur see me cry. An opened window was allowing cold air and small snowflakes into the house. Brown film coated the gravy and tears fell onto the plate. Goosebumps formed on my skin, whether it was from Arthur or the cold wind.
"Why?" Arthur teased. "Don't want people to know that you're the offspring of cheating?" He asked with a smirk on his face.
"Arthur!" My dad repeated, pushing himself out of his chair. "Stop right now!" I looked up at him, his face was red. It was true. Everyone I ever knew was a lie. A stifled out a sob and wiped my nose on my sweater. Suddenly my mind was racing. What did she look like? Was she pretty, ugly, mean, nice? What did my father see in this woman that he cheated on his wife? My trance was broken as Arthur decided to speak again.
"Why should I? She ruined our lives!" His voice was becoming more and more angry, causing the baby to stir. Katrina and Gabe were watching with wide eyes.
"Stop it!" I shrieked, tears now falling in droplets. Why was he doing this? Even if it was true that I wasn't his real sister, I was treated like one my whole life.
"I won't stop until you leave us alone!" Arthur roared, standing up from his seat. The baby was now crying, and Arthur's face was beet red.
"I said STOP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. Suddenly, my vision brimmed red. Never had I been this angry before. I stood up, my hand flexed and dropped the fork to the floor. All I wanted to do was throw my glass of water at him. God knows I couldn't hit him in front of my parents. It was as if the glass had a mind of it's own, the water seemed to leap out of it's glass and splash Arthur in the face. The room was silent. Now, all eyes were trained on me. Amelie stopped crying, Gabe's steak knife fell out of his hands.
"Did... anyone else see that?" Gabe whispered, fear in his tiny voice. Him and Arthur exchanged looks. A sneer played on Arthur's face. All I wanted to do was punch him in his stupid face. He wasn't my brother, we just shared blood.
"I told you she didn't belong here, she's a freak," Arthur hissed through his teeth. I said nothing, just stared at the drifting snow falling outside. I felt like that, like I was falling.
"Arthur, Yvette, bedrooms. Now." Our father's voice was harsh, and it sounded like he was about to cry. I did as he wished and pushed in my chair. I stared Arthur dead in the eye for a few seconds, before exited the dining room. Trekking up the stairs slowly, I waited for Arthur; he didn't follow. He probably didn't want to be in the presence of me. I wouldn't either. If I just learned that my sibling was the one who caused our parents arguing all the time, who ripped the family apart, I'd hate them too. Slamming the door behind me, my body fell on the bed hard when I slumped down on top of it. The smell of fresh flowers and the ripeness of crops I needed to pick greeted me. It was a nice smell, but it didn't change the mood.
Tons of emotions filled me at that moment, and the tears kept coming. My body was numb, my face was wet. Anger, sadness, curiosity, hatred. Not one ounce of me felt happy in any way. I wondered what Arthur was feeling. Was he happy? He reduced his little sister to tears. I flinched as the sound of Arthur's door slamming filled the air. How long had he known? Why did he choose right now? I chewed on my lip, and hugged myself. Two pairs of footsteps stomped on the stairs and Amelie's gurgles became more and more audible. Hearing muffled voices outside, I slowly crawled off my bed and cracked open the door. The smell of her perfume wafted into my nose. That was a smell I've always hated, it was the smell of vanilla and cinnamon. God knows dad loves it, though. I could see the bodies of my dad and my mom -- or whoever she was. They both looked angry.
"I want her gone, Leon!" Katrina whispered harshly. She was bouncing Amelie on her hip, trying to keep her quiet. I blinked. She wanted me gone. That-- that meant I would have to move schools, find new friends...
"Kat, you can't be serious-"
"Oh, I am serious Leon! You saw what she did at the table!" Tears fell onto my beige carpet. It felt like I got slapped in the face. I didn't even know what I did at the table. "I don't want her near my kids. Take her back to the woman you slept with."
Leon sucked in a mouthful of air. His hand rubbed his 5 o'clock shadow as he overlooked his wife. "I tried looking for her, you know that. I don't even remember her name!" Katrina laughed sarcastically.
"Well, I don't want her here." The air was quiet after that. Like dad was actually contemplating leaving me. Abandoning me. I hope Arthur was happy, he got his way. After what seemed like two minutes of silence, Katrina finally spoke up. "Take her to your mom then, she's been lonely ever since Henry died..."
Please don't agree, please don't agree. I bit my nails to keep myself from screaming, flecks of red nailpolish fell onto the carpet. "Fine," Leon muttered sadly. He agreed. I gasped and sat up straight. He's getting rid of me. After 15 years and he's getting rid of me. I didn't think I had anymore tears to shed, but they kept coming. Sobs spilled from my mouth, and I found it hard to breathe. I didn't even notice dad opening the door. He watched me pitifully, crying on the floor. You would think he'd engulf me in a hug, like you see in movies; but he didn't. His stare was grim and cold. I wiped my tears and looked away.
"Yvette," he said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes. He offered a hand to help me up but I stood up on my own. I didn't want to be near him, my father. He seemed like a stranger to me. "Yvette," he said again. He was hoping I would answer.
"No!" I sobbed, clutching my red hair in my hands. "Why-- How -- I--" Realizing I couldn't form a simple sentence, I slumped down on my bed. "You're getting rid of me," I whispered, wiping my eyes.
Dad sat next to me on my bed, trying to comfort me it seemed. But he didn't know how, not at all. "Vet, it-it's not what you think... your mother--"
"She's not my mother, huh? Arthur was right," my blue eyes met his green ones. A snarl appeared on my face for a few seconds.
He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his brown hair. I squinted, trying to read him. "No, Katrina is not your mother... Not by blood."
I scoffed at him. All my life I thought my dad was brave for what he did. He was a firefighter, a lieutenant in Manhattan. But he was cowardly, he kept this from me for 15 years and of all things, Arthur had to tell me. It hurt too much to forgive easily. My lips parted, I was about to spill my heart out when the sound of Katrina screaming came from downstairs. Dad immediately stood up, knocking a cactus off my bed stand. Katrina's screams were getting louder, and she was calling my dad's name. I was frozen, so was my dad. Amelie's cries started next, stomping on the stairs followed and a door slammed. Buster barked loudly downstairs and I could hear glass breaking.
"Start packing," he muttered as he rushed out of the door frame.
"What?" Was all that fell out of my mouth.
"Do it! Start packing! Anything and everything!" With that, I knew whatever was happening was serious.
I grabbed a spare backpack from my closet, it was filled with plant seeds and journals which I dumped out onto the floor. I had no idea where I was going but I grabbed anything I could find. Clothes, shoes, my hairbrush, deodorant, even a spare toothbrush I kept in my room. The screaming soon died down, which was good, but grunts and crashes stayed present. When my bag was filled, my room was a mess. Pots were spilled and dirt was smeared on the floor. I mourned the loss of the fallen plants as my dad came in the room.
"We have to go," his voice seemed hasty and urgent. I looked up to see what was wrong and immediately dropped my bag onto the floor. Dad was.... covered in blood and dust. A long, long sword was in his right hand and he looked like he had been to Hell and back. "You packed?" He asked, rage in his face.
"Y-yeah," I said, picking up my backpack. It took me a minute to process things, but dad grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room.
"There are more coming," he yelled loudly as he dragged me down the stairs. All the doors were locked, everyone was probably locked in their bedrooms. Tears spilled down my face.
"More what?!" As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the messy living room became more apparent. Piles of dust and broken everything was everywhere. The TV was broken, the front windows were busted in. Amelie's toys were scattered and Buster's dog bed was ripped to shreds. "Dad, more what?!"
Then I saw them.