I heard his deep muffled voice in the house as I pressed my right ear to the door trying to hear the stories being cooked up by the mother and daughter. As soon as I heard the door close, I raced to the window to get a peek of the whole facade. Bridget cleaned up pretty well with that stunning designer gown sweeping the stairs besides him. There he was, in his crisp suit and swag on point which I detested, but, there was a part of me that craved for him, his touch…
Why was I so affected if Bridget went out with him? Why did I feel obliged to run to him and declare that I was the girl in his arms the other night!? Why do I want to be tied to his bed every night? Why does he make me so maddd? So many whys! Help!
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my bedroom door being unlocked. We lived in the 20th century and yet people like Mary existed who were still so evil and insecure like the witches in fairy tales that we read as little girls. I had promised her that I wouldn’t venture out of my room but she still did not believe me and locked me up as though I was some sort of an animal that needed to be caged lest it caused havoc.
“There you’re free to roam IN THE HOUSE for the rest of the weekend! It’s such a pity you could not see James escorting our lovely Bridget for their first official date. If only you weren’t so filthy and ugly with disgraceful intentions” she barked as usual.
“Oh yes Mary, you and your daughter’s intentions are so pure that you practically deceived the man into believing that Bridget was me, your filthy and ugly daughter, isn’t it?” I snapped right back at her plastic face.