I reached over to turn off my alarm clock. As I opened my eyes, the room was dark and the sun crept through the closed curtains. I got up to sit in front of the mirror and began to brush my long black hair. I gazed at myself with discontent. My limp frizzy black hair hung from my head. I looked around the room. The cabinets, drawers, and shelves were all dusty and at the corners of the wall were elaborate spider webs. I got up again to meander towards my drawer that held pictures of my dead mother. I sighed as I wiped my fingers across the dusty picture frame. I took a big breath trying to hold in my tears, and I tasted the stale air. I walked over to my closet and opened the doors. As I opened them, dust snowed down on me. I coughed and sneezed from the surplus of it. As soon as I opened the closet doors, I could smell the old clothes. The clothes confined in my closet, gave off a musty, mildewed scent from not being worn for so long. As the clothes hung in the dark closet, I could see the colors of them slowly fading to a neutral gray. Moth balls sat under all of the hung clothing. I felt my clothes. They had a rough texture like sandpaper to my skin. I had not changed from my black, silk nightgown ever since the accident. I moped towards to window. My feet dragged across the floor as I walked. I slightly opened the curtains and as the light came in the room, I saw the tiny particles swim through the air. I am living in a box, a box that I do not want to escape. If I leave, the animals will get me, and I will have the same fate as my mother. I could care less about the company. Nothing is important to me anymore. I have no motivation to do anything. There is no use in trying to stop my step father and his son. I began thinking about the past and pictured my room. My mother came into my room every night to sing to me. Even when my mother had no time at all, she always made time just to comfort me and say goodnight. My curtains were always open and my room was engulfed with the warm sunshine and the smell of my mother’s perfume. The room always seemed so bright and cheerful, but now my room is dismal and oppressive. I reached for my curtain with my shaking hands and weakly gripped the curtain to close it. Slowly, the curtains closed and drooped over the window. My eyes crept to the floor as I made my way towards my unkempt bed. I climbed in the bed slowly and put the blanket over my body to cover my face. Quietly and softly I began to weep. I am a stump, left behind and useless. The rest of me has left, while I have stayed an empty vessel. I turned my head towards my desk that was drowned in unfinished work. Half written ideas were left and scattered across the desk. Underneath all of the work was my mother’s binder. All I had to do was use her ideas, but I did not want to; because I feared they would threat me. I feared they would not accept her ideas. I figured there’s no use in trying, if I’m just going to fail. I heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. The footsteps paused in front of my door and I heard a knock. My door groaned open.
“Excuse me Madame. Would you like your breakfast?” said my maid Mildred.
“No I’m not hungry.”
“Then I will just leave it here by the door again.” Mildred looked at the food that she brought up to my room the previous day for dinner. “You actually ate a little,” she said with a smile.
“Mhm,” I murmured.
Mildred left my food near the door like she did every day since I locked myself in my room. Mildred was the maid that my mother hired when I was born. Mildred has always been here for me. Unlike my step-father and brother, Mildred came up to my room every day to check if I was alright with my mother’s death. Even when I was younger Mildred was the one who comforted me when I was scolded by my parents. She read to me at night when my mother couldn’t and she brought me to school when my parents were too busy. Mildred was like a second mother to me, but now things have changed. Now that my mother is gone, my heart aches when I’m around Mildred. Still, she is the only person keeping me here in this house. Without Mildred I don’t have any live connections with my mother, except for my step-father and brother. My step father and brother wanted to make the company how they envisioned it. They have changed the company entirely. He cheats other companies and does anything just to get more money. My mother was a humble woman who was kind to everyone. She wasn’t selfish and whenever someone needed help, she tried to help them with the best of her abilities. She held the company on her shoulder, with the help of a very few people. She kept the company from making unnecessary and illegal decisions. Some nights I’d wake up and go downstairs to get water, and I’d see my mother still awake doing her work at inhumanly possible times. Even when people took advantage of my mother, she didn’t mind.
Thoughts of my mother began to surge through my mind. The thoughts immediately triggered my emotions. Tears swelled into my eyes. I brushed my fingertips against my moist face. I could feel bumps protruding from my face. The salty tears burned on my face that contained rashes from my previous crying.
“I wish, my mother was here,” I said sobbing. “Mom. Can you hear me? Are you watching over me? Why did you leave? Everything is ruined now. Mom. Mom! MOM!” My sobbing turned into hysterical screaming. The door was thrown open and Mildred crashed through the door surprisingly.
“That’s enough Anastasia. Everything will be alright,” Mildred calmly whispered into my ear. She tightly hugged me and rubbed my back. My head slid down to her lap and like a child, I fell asleep.