Paradise Abductions

by Mia Rodriguez

  Chapter 6

  "I've been waiting for you," Stacy smirks as she lightly smacks the palm of her left hand with the discipline club she grips with her right one.

  "What do you want?" I grumble.

  "You should talk to me with more respect," she snaps. "After all, I'm a more senior family-wife than you--or than you'll be when you actually marry Master Barstowe."

  No family-wife would ever dare call her husband by his first name. The Mister's moniker is Alcott, and I'm glad I don't have to use it, or I'd probably call him Allrot by mistake.

  "What do you want?' I repeat.

  Stacy continues clubbing her left palm slowly and deliberately. "I think I need to teach you a lesson."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me. It's about time someone puts you in your place! Master Barstowe babies you," she snickers.

  "You think you're going to be the one to put me in my place?" I guffaw.

  Stacy abruptly points the discipline club at me, her face contorted in a fury. "You wouldn't be so flippant if you knew that we're both here by ourselves."

  "Where are the other family-wives and Master Barstowe?" I ask with curiosity.

  "They went to the store, so he could pick out their new wardrobes."

  Before marriage, destiny-brides have to dress in shapeless, ugly rags but after the wedding the husbands dress them any way they want. The Mister favored an old fashioned look for his wives of long, flowery dresses that emphasized a shape but at the same time covered it up. There were those husbands who dressed their wives in mini-skirts and tank tops. We girls didn't even have control over what we put on our bodies.

  UGH!!!

  "Why didn't you go to the store?" I ask her.

  "I wasn't feeling too well," she snickers as she continues striking her left hand with the club. "I bet you're feeling scared now."

  "If you're going to hit me then lets get it over with," I snarl.

  Her light blue eyes light up with fury. "You don't think I'll hit you, but I will."

  "Go ahead," I say coolly.

  "Stop acting as if you're not scared."

  "I just need to ask you for a favor," I state.

  Her enraged eyes turn triumphant. "I knew you'd start begging."

  "Please make sure you put all you're strength in hitting me."

  It actually wouldn't be such a bad thing for her to disfigure me since the dogs hadn't done it. She'd really be doing me a favor.

  Her triumphant eyes turn poisonous. I don't think I've ever seen her so furious. As she swiftly steps over to me, I stand my ground.

  "Monica," she spits out, fuming, "I'm going to give you a beating you'll never forget!" She raises the club. I calmly stare at her.

  "I'm going to hit you," she smirks with the club raised in the air.

  "I'm waiting."

  "After I get done with you, you'll have to go to the hospital."

  "I can only hope."

  The hospital wasn't so bad. You'd get three square meals a day and rest from the constant chores you were subjected to all day.

  "I mean it, Monica--I'm going to hurt you bad!"

  "Stop talking about it and do it already."

  She slowly lowers the club to my forehead and gives it a strong thrust. I keep standing my ground. "Beg me for forgiveness," she demands.

  I stare into her eyes nonchalantly with the mini-bat pressing into my skin. "Forgiveness for what?" I question, testily.

  "For not giving me the proper respect! For being such a bad family-wife! For not being a good follower of the word. For--"

  "You might as well stop because I'm not going to apologize. Are you going to hit me or what?"

  Fuming and making grunting noises, she raises the club again. I wait. Then she collapses to the ground crying. I can see how disgusted she is with herself at not having had the guts to hit me. If the Mister sees one mark on me that he hasn't made himself, he'll go ballistic. If she was smart, she'd hit me where he couldn't see. Of course, she'd have to curtail her dream of landing me in the hospital and only give me a few painful whacks. But she can't do it. She shrieks in agony. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But then she starts her litany of insults towards me.

  "You worthless, ugly, lazy, unholy, dirty--"

  Okay, okay, but I have to do my work before Master Barstowe gets here, or he'll be furious. You can call me names as I'm cleaning."

  I leave her on the floor as I step into the kitchen where I start with the dishes. Usually the family-wives have meals together. Cooking is the one thing they are required to do as far as household chores go. We, unmarried girls, do the rest. I smile when I see that the two other family- wives had left some food on their plates. They are as kind as Stacy is cruel. Even though they are only allowed a limited amount of food, so they won't get fat, they still manage to give me a little of the small portions they get. With my fingers, I quickly snatch the dabs of scrambled eggs from the two plates and ram them in my mouth before Stacy realizes they left me food and throws it away. She's done that before.

  I sigh. I don't know who despises me more--Helga or Stacy. And what's worse is that I had never done anything to them except to be alive and breathe. Those two haters have no real reason for disliking me. Sure, I have a smart mouth but only when they provoke me. The rest of the time I'm pretty quiet. I don't know why they can't just leave me alone? What do I do that bothers them so much?

  As if on cue, Stacy rushes into the kitchen, her face still stained with all the tears she had shed over not being able to pummel me. Thankfully, I had already eaten the leftover food. "This isn't over, Monica!" she screetches.

  I wearily look at her. "Oh?" I notice she no longer carries the discipline club.

  Stacy starts cackling vociferously. "I've gotten even with you! You'll see! You'll see," she threatens over and over again.

  "Whatever."

  "You'll see! You'll see!"

  I leave her smirking face and go to bedroom number one. The Mister likes me to first clean the kitchen and then take care of the room of the senior family-wife. Of course, Agatha is only twenty-five and not senior at all, but for all intents and purposes she is his first wife and has a little more authority over the rest of us. Good thing she's a sweetheart. There are rumors that the Mister has an actual first wife somewhere outside of Paradise Village, but it's impossible to find out the truth. All I know is that it's suspicious and a huge relief that the Mister is sporadically in and out of Paradise Village. Most of the men, except the Elders who keep a tight vigil on the place, seem to have other lives away from here. It's very suspicious indeed.

  As I go to the next bedroom, I hear Stacy cackling like a deranged witch. She's up to something alright. I dread her stupid tricks. I have enough to contend with than to play such silly games.

  Finally, having finished cleaning the rooms of Agatha and Bernice, I walk over to hers with dread. She suddenly appears inn the hallway snickering and hollering. "You're going to get it! You're going to get it!" she repeats gleefully.

  As I step through the doorway, I stand in her bedroom in shock and disgust. Trash is spread throughout the floor, cushions are flung all over, and the Mister's shaving cream has been sprayed on the furniture.

  Stacy's shrill laughter vibrates from the walls. "I told you I'd get you!"

  I stare at her with disgust.

  "Are you sorry now? Are you--" she abruptly stops speaking when the Mister's voice resonates from the downstairs.

  "Monica!" he yells furiously. "Why isn't the house clean?!"

  He's probably standing in the living room which I haven't had a chance to clean yet. Stacy's face contorts into a triumphant smirk.

  "Do I have to discipline you?" he asks furiously as climbs the stairs, stomping his feet.