Devils Daisy

I should be happy, but how can I be? I am barely twelve and have been forced into this new life of mine. No, that is wrong, this isn't my life, it is theirs.

They have the right to use me however they wish, apparently, though I am not good enough for my parents, and I cost too much.

Even doing all the chores around the house and working every day. All the money I earn goes to them. I guess I don't earn the money. They earn it from renting me out.

I listen to their words, my ear pressed against the door, but it simply mumbles. My parents warned me a week ago, that they can't afford to keep me, even with me working and giving them every penny. Not that I have a choice however when it goes straight to their bank.

"Ten thousand."

That I heard, is that really how little they see my worth? I hear them agree, moving I step back and sit on the small mattress. I want to say this will be good. Maybe this woman will be nice, won't use me like my parents did? Then again, they will want me to earn back that ten thousand, and more to cover the expense of me living with them.

I watch as the door opens, my eyes instantly meeting my father's. I plead with him not to make me go, but it is futile. They had me for the money, they knew the lack of laws, and rules meant they could. Only it turned out that people around here mostly had their own children some were allowed to be children, and others were used as servants. Like me.

It made me getting work hard.

My mum places the paper down.

"Sign." I look at her and my father. "Miranda just sign the d*mn paper! Right now. In a few years, you can come home. I promise." Nodding I do as I am told.

"Miranda." The woman looks at me and I nod. "I'm Mrs. Jones. Grab your bag we need to leave." With no more words, she turns and walks out. Picking up the bag I walk to my parents. Waiting and hoping one of them will change their minds, my mother is already counting out the money she made selling me.

I look at my daddy. Even with the horrible life, every now and then he made me laugh, picked me up and was a father. Tears brimmed my eyes but he didn't even flinch. I stepped past them. Hoping one would say goodbye, love you or anything.

Instead, silence followed behind me as I slowly walked out of the house. They didn't say wait, stop or goodbye. They didn't even wave as I sat in the car and we left.

It was like I was nothing more than an object that they had wasted money on.

"You will be staying with me. There are eight other girls and four boys." Mrs. Jones states. "Your name is not Miranda, for now, you will be known as Mutt. You're new, and haven't earned the right to your name."

I stare at her shocked. Opening my mouth to protest her hand covers it.

"Argue and you will not be fed tonight." She removes her hand and faces forward again. "Everyone has their own jobs. I was doing your family a favour by buying you. No education, no experience. You have nothing."

I listen to her words.

"Some of the girls have jobs, some help around the house, but the plan is you replace them so they can work more."

I stay silent.

"Do you understand?"

I nod, and she looks annoyed.

"Speak, I at least know you know how to do that, or so I hope!"

"Yes." My voice is weak and broken.

"Yes, what?" She sits waiting. I look at her confused. Does she want a full sentence?

"Yes, I understand." I watch the horror on her face. She moves too quickly for me to notice, or react, but the sting of her hand across my face has me screaming.

"You say. Yes, Mrs Jones." Clearly, your parents forgot to teach you manners!"

"Yes, Mrs Jones." My voice shakes as I cradle my cheek in my hand, forcing the tears away. I watch the car stop and we get out.

Walking into the house I am in awe. It is huge and beautiful. Not like my parents. they have a one-bedroom flat, where I would sleep in the cupboard.

"Here!" I hear Mrs Jones call out, everyone appearing. My eyes flutter across them. They look happy, how can they look so happy?

"Meet the new Mutt, hopefully, she lasts longer than the last one. You all know the rules. Stay out of her business. Don't get involved. Anyone caught sneaking her food, clothes or anything will go down a rank." Mrs. Jones pushes me forward.

"Elaine, make sure she knows her schedule, she also needs lesson times." I watch as Mrs. Jones walks away, Elaine looking at me as everyone disappears.

"How old are you Mutt?"

"My name is Malinda," I state, trying to stand up tall.

"Your name is Mutt and you will starve if you speak like that again! I can see you will be trouble so follow me." She walks off and I follow her through some doors and downstairs. The basement is dark and grubby.

I look into the small cells and she stops at one.

"This is yours. You're only allowed in here, if less you are cleaning other rooms or doing chores. Here." She holds out a piece of paper and a pencil.

Taking them I look at her confused.

"Write, because this is your life right now and if you lose that paper, you're starving!" She is horrid, just as horrid as Mrs Jones.

"5 AM, wake up. Make breakfast for everyone, that is eight of us, plus Mrs Jones and her three children. That makes 12 as I am guessing you don't know maths. Ensure it is on the table by 6 AM. While we eat, you clean the kitchen and whatever mess you made while cooking. When we finish, you may eat whatever is left. From seven AM until Nine AM you will do work, teaching yourself basic skills. There is a bookshelf out there. DO NOT WRITE IN THOSE BOOKS!" She shouts the last words at me.

"Nine AM until Four you will work in the factory. Four until six cook and ensure food is on the table by six at the latest. Then the same as breakfast, you clean as we eat, and once we have finished you have whatever is left. Seven until eleven you clean all the bathrooms in the house and any other rooms with a blue strip on the door."

I hurriedly write it down. She didn't give me time. So I have 5 a.m. cook. 12 people. Clean, eat. Educate until nine, factory until four, cook, then clean and then eat, followed by clean until eleven.

She walks off not even checking if I got it all. Suddenly she turns and walks back to me.

"Rules. Your cell, you stay out of everyone else's. Any books you require for educating yourself you use out there. You do not bring them into your cell. If you are caught stealing food, you will miss two days of food. If you are caught stealing anything else, well, you will be gone as quick as the last mutt." Her words are harsh and once again she turns and leaves.

I simply stand staring at the walls of my small cell. I thought I had it bad with my parents, but now I realise I was wrong, this is hell.

Within a few months I had settled into my new life, every now and then I made mistakes and wouldn't get to eat. 

I was still known as Mutt, however. Which Mrs. Jones and everyone reminded me daily that it was my fault. If I didn't keep arguing and saying my name, I wouldn't be called Mutt any longer.

Closing the door I relax. It is nearly midnight. Cleaning today took longer. James, Mrs Jones' son had friends around, so my usual cleaning routine took far longer than it normally would.

Sitting in my small cell, I take out the pencil and paper. It is the only thing I have. Drawing a cake with candles, I wish myself a happy birthday before rubbing out the image.

I learnt quickly, that paper is sacred. I am given maybe five sheets a month, some months less. So after using a piece of paper, I would rub out the pencil to reuse it. 

My mind can't help but wonder what my parents are doing. Are they sitting there wishing me a happy birthday? Do they even r