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I do not know how long I stayed in that position, staring into the air. I know by the time I finally rise, all the pieces of the had landed on the ground. I stand.

I gather the scraps and solemnly drop them into my pocket. Slowly, I fill a bucket with soap and water. I begin to scrub at the blood on the stone. I am beginning to lose vision in my one eye due to swelling.

All my body aches, and each breath is torture from all the kicks. I can not stop though. If I do, Step-mother will beat me. I will not withstand another beating.

I try to avoid attention that night.

"Cindy, you don't seem well," my step-mother smirks during supper. I freeze on my way to the kitchen. I keep my worse injured side turned away from my step-family.

"I am a little tired," I reply thickly, "That's all."

"Oh, dear. Would you like to go to bed early?" she asks kindly.

I squint my eyes at her, distrustful.

"It would not hurt, Step-mother."

"I'm afraid I can't afford that though. I need you to do the dishes," she laughs shrilly, cruelly.

"It's all right. I wasn't expecting you to allow that. You're too much of a snob to dirty your hands with anything but blood," I sneer.

"You little brat!" she hisses.

I begin to continue taking the tray back to the kitchen. She grabs my wrist and jerks on it.

I spin around, my shoulder screaming with pain. I distantly hear the serving tray clatter to the floor.

"Look at this, girls," she screeches at her two daughters. I watch their eyes widen in shock and glee at my disfigured face. "I just beat her to this state a few hours ago, and now she dares me to do it again!"

"Get your hands off of me," I spit out from between clenched teeth. I shake her shock-loosened grip off easily and stomp out of the room. I barely make it to my room and lock the door before I collapse on the floor, and sleep overtakes me.