A child from the devil

The pitter-patter of raindrops on the rooftop, combined with the chilly weather provided the perfect atmosphere for Miranda to complete the story she started reading three days ago.

Snuggled up in bed and covered in a furry blanket, Miranda suddenly laughed out loud at a funny scene she just read.

Her laughter caught the attention of her kid brother, who was designing a logo with her PC.

His brows met each other in the middle, as he threw her a disapproving look.

"There's a thin line between madness and sanity, you know." He commented, pausing his work and turning his head in her direction.

The size of the room was on the small side, so to manage space, the desk on which he was working was placed just after the foot of the bed.

"What does that even mean?" Miranda queried after recovering from her laughter and dropping the book on her chest.

"It means that it's very easy to switch to the other side, and I think you are already crossing that line. Too much reading can make you go mad." Connie explained, and Miranda sighed.

"Listen, Connie, I am not going mad. And there is no such thing as too much reading. This story is really good. You should try reading it and see." Miranda suggested, but Connie twisted his face in disgust.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather remain in the real world. I'm not interested in gushing over some fictional girl with doe eyes and brown hair, who doesn't exist. I want the real deal." Connie rejected the offer, but Instead of dropping the issue, Miranda raised her brows, wiggling them playfully.

"Are we talking about Lydia here?" Miranda teased.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Connie turned away from her and faced the computer, hiding the growing blush on his face.

"She's a nice girl, you know." Miranda continued with the tease, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Go back to reading your book. I want to work." Connie dismissed, moving his hands back to the keyboard.

Miranda giggled and decided to let him off for the time being. She lifted the book to continue reading, but her eyes were yet to locate the point where she left off when she heard her name.

"MIRANDA!"

Her brows furrowed and her hands shook at the force with which her name was called. Connie also frowned. It was late in the night. Why was their mother yelling out her name like that? Not that it was a new thing. But what had she done now?

"Yes, mum," Miranda answered, throwing off the blanket and flinging her legs out of bed.

In haste, she moved toward the door. However, before she reached it, the door flew open and her mother walked in.

"Mum, you called m—"

*Slap*

The older woman's palm landed heavily on her cheek, cutting her off.

Miranda's palm flew to her cheek to soothe the stinging sensation dancing on the surface and the internal layer of her skin.

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away as she tried to see something other than the stars flying everywhere.

"Do you have short-term memory? How many times have I told you not to let me call you more than once before you answer?" Her mother fumed.

"But I answe—"

*Slap*

Another slap landed on the opposite cheek, cutting her off yet again. This time, the tears dropped from her eyes unhindered, as her other hand flew to the affected part.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Her mother raged.

"Mum!" Connie, who was already up from his seat, exclaimed in shock, his tone scolding, while Miranda shook her head without a word.

"Why did you have to do that? She answered the moment you called her." Connie explained, making his mother throw him a death glare.

"Shut up. Do you know how long I have been calling her name?"

"I only heard you call her once, and she answered. Hitting her was totally unnecessary." Connie uttered, enraged by the scene he just witnessed.

"Who asked for your opinion? And what are you doing here?" His mother questioned.

"I'm working."

"You have a computer in your room. Do your work in your room and stay away from hers. She is a woman."

Connie didn't understand what she meant at first, but a short while later, his face twisted in disgust as he processed the words again.

"What are you saying, mum? She is my sister." Connie answered in disbelief. He couldn't believe what his mother was bringing out of this.

Miranda was his older sister. How could such a thought find a way into his mother's head? This is so wrong on all levels.

"Don't argue with me, Connie. Leave this place this instant." His mother's voice boomed.

One side of his lips twitched in annoyance as he stared at his mother for a while.

His eyes veered toward Miranda for a moment before he walked out of the room without a word.

The older woman moved her heated gaze back to Miranda.

"Go clean up the kitchen." She instructed, and Miranda nodded before moving out of the room as well.

Once she was a good distance away from her mother, a frown made its way to her face. She had cleaned the kitchen before retiring for the night. Why was she being asked to go do it again?

Meanwhile, in the sitting room...

"Are you just going to sit there and say nothing while evil prevails in this house?" Connie's voice rang out.

"Watch your language, young man. And you should listen to your mother. She only means well for you." Mr. Alfred, their father, responded.

He sat comfortably on the sofa, watching his favorite show on TV as if nothing wrong was happening in the house.

Connie let out a scoff. "What was I even expecting?" He uttered and walked away to his room, shutting the door with a bang.

***

It was not until Miranda reached the kitchen that she found used plates and cups in the sink. She didn't need any special medium to tell her that her parents must have eaten something else after the general dinner.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her palm, she moved to clean up the plates and the sink, then looked around to ensure everything was in place, before heading back to her room.

As soon as she walked in and shut the door behind her, her eyes landed on the figure of her brother, who was sitting on her bed with a frown on his face and a towel in his hand.

"What are you doing here? You will get in trouble if Mum finds you here." She whisper-asked, moving to sit beside him.

"I brought you an ice pack. The slap might leave a mark." Connie stretched the towel to her and she accepted it with a smile.

"Thanks."

"Why do you insist on enduring this, Mira?" Connie started talking the moment she moved the wrapped towel to her face. "You should run away from this house. That's the only time you can be free."

Miranda fearfully moved her eyes to the door, then back at Connie.

"Stop talking nonsense, Connie. Do you know what will happen if they hear you?" Miranda scolded, but Connie let out a scoff.

"Nothing will happen. They can't do that with me. It only happens to you. And that's because you chose to stay here and endure it." Connie's voice went an octave higher when he said the last two words, alarming Miranda.

"Bring your voice down." Miranda whisper yelled. "I believe mum is just stressed, and remember she is also pregnant. That's why she is acting the way she is. You all are my family. How do you expect me to run away and leave you behind, huh? Will you be happy if you don't see me again?" She asked.

"Yes. I will be happy, knowing you are not being abused by the same people who should shield you from abuse. I will be happy, knowing you are living a better life and in better conditions somewhere else. And no. Stress is not Mum's problem. Neither is it pregnancy. She is doing all these things intentionally and I know the reason behind it." Connie revealed.

"And what's that?" Miranda queried, curious to hear what he had to say.

"She is doing it because she believes you are an evil child from the devil. At least, that was what the nurse who took your delivery told her because of your strange hair color. And after your delivery, some things happened that made them believe what the nurse said." Connie explained, bringing down his voice this time.

Miranda's eyes stretched in disbelief.

"Where did you get this story from?"

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***AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ***

This story is participating in WSA 2024. If you enjoy reading, please support with your powerstones, golden tickets, gifts, comments, corrections, privilege subscriptions, and more.

The story, characters, and places are all a product of my imagination. No part of it is real, so do not expect it to accurately depict real-world events, language, or culture. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. XO.