Margarete moved into my old third floor room. She moved into the room that I had slept in for ten years of my life. She moved into the room I had stayed in when my father was still alive. She moved into one of the very few rooms of the house where I still had all happy memories. She made me help her.

“Hurry up, Marina! I swear, you move so slow! You’re lucky we let you stay here.”

I white knuckled the handles of the basket I was carrying that contained Margarete’s jewelry. I wanted to drop it and stomp on all of her fine gold and silver and tell her just what I thought of her. I wanted to tell her to get the hell out of my house and take her evil mother and sister with her…but I couldn’t.

“Yes, Miss,” I whispered obediently. My face still hurt where Adelind had held it and my hand was still healing, but the doctor said that it was a clean break and that it would only take a couple of weeks. Since it was just my hand, and the rest of my arm still worked, Margarete believed it was my duty to keep working.