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Life with my sisters after that became challenging. On the surface, things didn't change much. I was still "allowed" to go to work and socialise with my friends. But Hope got herself employed at the same firm where I was now working full time, and for one reason or another, my friends began gravitating towards her and icing me out. Even my manager, who'd been training me to take her place when she retired at the end of the year, started treating Hope as an equal, and before long, my promotion fizzled away into nothing. I wanted to be disappointed, but thanks to the tags Patience kept on me at all times, all I felt was happiness that my sister was rising so quickly within the company ranks. In the tiny corner of my mind that was still mine, I suspected she was, more accurately, sleeping her way up the ladder, but the part given over to my sisters' control never once questioned why Hope would now be in line for the promotion I'd been promised, while I was relegated back to the role of "office monkey" I'd had when I'd first joined the firm three years ago.
It was the same with my social life. The few friends I'd made outside work were still happy to hang out with me of a Friday night, but Prudence usually came along so she could "get to know" my friends. Again, I knew she was doing it to keep an eye on me, but I could never say anything, and, bit by bit, she won my friends over, until I had not a single friend to my name, either at work or outside of it. Prudence did "graciously" give me the chance to tag along to Friday nights I no longer enjoyed, but I always felt like an outsider as my sister effortlessly ingratiated herself with the few people I'd thought I could count on to always have my back no matter what. In time, I gave up going out altogether, not when it meant having one of my sisters chaperone me.
It only took a few months for me to become a complete recluse, but of course, I was never allowed to feel that way - Patience saw to that - and when I wasn't doing housework or going to work, I usually sat on my bed with a book, or some knitting, or a cup of tea. I almost never went out except to go to the shops, or for a walk, but one sister or the other always had to come with me to "look after" me, but I knew it was to make sure I couldn't garner any sympathy.
And it wasn't like I was being abused in any way. I still had a roof over my head, food, and clothes. It was all I could ask for. But in the tiny corner of my mind that was still my own, I knew I was being abused. My sisters had always been covertly rude to me when they were growing up, and now that they ruled the roost, so to speak, they demeaned me in every way possible, calling me every unkind name under the sun, and insulting everything about me, from my clothes, to my hair, even the way I walked and spoke. Patience made sure I was never allowed to feel bad about the constant verbal abuse they slung my way, and on the surface, I felt nothing but gratitude that they still allowed me to live under their roof, when they could have kicked me out to go live on the streets.
Under the surface, though, I was hurting badly, and as the months turned into years, it became more of a struggle to stay under the water where my sisters couldn't hurt me. I was safe down here, deep below the surface, but the urges to breathe often grew so overpowering I felt like I would start drowning if I stayed under. But on the surface, they'd get to me, and take away the last little bastion of safety I had. The constant abuse was taking its toll on my secret mental refuge, and I suspected they knew I was hiding a secret part of myself. Else why would they work so hard at tearing down my self esteem?84Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8eFl3CVuvW
The nightmares didn't help - every night, I found myself underwater, but trapped, chained to the bottom of the pool, while my sisters frolicked around me, laughing in my face as I struggled to hold my breath, my lungs burning, diaphragm contracting as I slowly ran out of air. But my sisters just swam around me and laughed, taunting ,me, as I fought to hold on to what little air I could. And their words were always the same - all I had to do was submit, and they'd unlock the chain keeping me trapped, deep underwater. I'd be free, and I wouldn't have to struggle so.
But every night I refused, and I ended up drowning as my sisters laughed.
It felt the same in the waking world, but somehow, despite the constant torment, I held on, knowing that if I finally gave in, I'd be completely submerged, drowning on dry land as my sisters took over me completely. I'd gain freedom, but it would be a hollow victory, whereby my sisters won while I lost. And I would not give them what they wanted. They wanted me pliant and biddable so they could make me what they wanted to be, and I would not give them that.
So the months turned into years, and the torment grew, until I felt ready to snap. Yet I held on, determined to outlast them. It was Patience who finally, well, ran out of the virtue she was named after, and took matters into her own hands.
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