It broke my heart to see her try so hard only to be dismissed or shot down. It's not like appealing to Laurie or Mike would get her anywhere.
"Ungrateful girl, out of the kindness of our hearts we let you and your father stay here," said Mike one time, "and all you can do is bother poor Lucy. You should be ashamed of yourself. If she doesn't want you going out with her then you don't get to go out. Don't be selfish!"
And so, as on many other occasions, it was made abundantly clear that, as I was at the mercy of Mike, Sarah was at the mercy of Lucy's short temper and mean temperament.
Not long after their 18th birthday I began to see Lucy's demands on Sarah becoming even more demeaning. It started with small things like demanding Sarah thank her for every tiny thing.
"Thank you Lucy for my beautiful dress," I would hear her say, dropping the thin and fraying garment over her head in the morning.
"Thank you, Lucy, for this delicious food I'm so grateful you let me have," she said before she was allowed to take her spoon to the plain porridge she was begrudgingly permitted. This one brought out sniggers of malicious delight from Lucy.
"Thank you for letting me sleep in your room," she would have to say before being allowed into their bedroom to sleep at night.
It got more degrading as Lucy added extra steps to the thanking process.
"Thank you so much for letting me touch your beautiful feet to do your nails for you, it's a privilege I don't deserve," she said as she knelt before Lucy one night in the lounge. I wasn't allowed in there, but could see them from my vantage point in the kitchen as I cleaned up after the evening meal. I saw Sarah bend to touch her forehead reverently to her sister's toes before bringing them to her lips to kiss as she stared devotedly up at Lucy's face. Lucy grunted, scrolling on her phone and wiggled her toes impatiently prompting Sarah to get on with the servile task she was allowed to perform.
From then on, it seemed every time Sarah spoke to Lucy it involved kissing her feet. Each time, if Lucy had time, she would push her toes into Sarah face, into her mouth, demanding she suck them. I hate to admit it but Lucy's demanding nature, her sheer natural command, turned me on, and I admit I was jealous of my daughter's submission to her. At night I fantasised it was me who was kneeling before Lucy with her toes in my mouth. Sarah had clearly inherited my desire to please because not once did she complain, eagerly opening her mouth for her sister's toes and licking around and between them.
Then it descended to asking permission for anything. Literally anything.
"Please Lucy, may I have a shower," I caught Sarah saying as I passed their room with a bundle of laundry. I paused to watch them through the door jam. Sarah was customarily kissing Lucy's feet as she made the request. As Lucy hadn't raised her feet she was licking along the tops, eyes raised to Lucy, pleading with them.
"Ugh, come here, let me smell you. "
Sarah raised her body, still kneeling, and Lucy sniffed the air comically far from her and then recoiled.
"Ooh, you do stink, you dirty fat pig. What are you?"
Shame blossomed across Sarah cheeks and she turned her face down in embarrassment.
"I'm a," he voice hitched with emotion, "a dirty fat pig. I'm a dirty fat pig Lucy," she mumbled.
"I can't hear you," came the song-song response.
"I'm a dirty fat pig," Sarah said louder.
"What?"
"I'm a dirty fat pig," Sarah shouted. There was banging from below.
"Keep that noise down," shouted Mike. Lucy giggled.
"And what nose do dirty fat pigs make," she demanded, a cruel sneer spreading across her face.
Tentatively Sarah made a snorting sound.
"More!"
Sarah continued snorting, louder, more confident that she was doing what Lucy wanted.
"That's it, that's how a pig speaks. That's how it asks permission."
Sarah nodded, understanding the new rules.
"Now crawl to the bathroom, pig, and wash that stink off of yourself. And don't you dare use any of the nice soaps. Just the basic bar, understand?"
There was a moment of hesitation as I could see Sarah trying to work out the best way to respond.
I saw how Sarah looked at Lucy's clothes, with such longing, but she never said anything, never asked why Lucy had things she didn't, for which I was eternally grateful. How do you tell your child you are too weak to stand up for them?
At some point, her longing must have gotten the better of her. The girls were 13 by now and I was drawn to their shared bedroom by Lucy screaming blue murder. When I arrived I discovered Sarah, wearing one of Lucy's dresses, cowering and apologising as Lucy landed blow upon blow on her, slapping her face and arms, pulling her hair.
"Please, I'm sorry, I promise I won't do it again, please Lucy," she begged.
"You fucking bitch cunt, how dare you touch my things, fucking slut, I can't believe you, you've ruined them!"
Sarah, though shorter than Lucy, was a little heavier set and I could see the fabric was straining in places. However I couldn't let this go on. I stepped forward to intervene.
"Don't you fucking dare," Lucy shot at me. "I'll tell mum and dad you touched me."
To many that would seem l like a threat of accusing me of pedophilia, but not in this family. I was forbidden from touching Lucy after I had once restrained her from doing something stupid. She had fought me and it had left bruises on her skin. I had been beaten for that within an inch of my life. Mike had made sure I would not forget the new rule, I was not to touch Lucy. Ever.
And so I cowered back, unable to stop the onslaught.
I begged alongside my daughter, on my knees, pleading with Lucy, an enraged 13 year old teenage girl, to be merciful. Eventually she had had her fill of physical violence against my daughter, and Sarah managed to crawl into my arms and cry herself out as I rocked her.
For that display Lucy was rewarded with all new clothes and Sarah with being grounded for a month. The clothes Sarah had "ruined" she was forced to burn.
This prompted me to try the biggest bit of defiance I had ever attempted against Laurie and Mike's will. Holding back a small part of the meagre pay check from the part time job I just about had time to work at around all the housework and household duties they had me perform, I bought Sarah her own, brand new dress. Sure, it was from primemark, made of the cheapest fabric, and was the most basic cut imaginable, but it was something new and it belonged to Sarah. I basked in her secret delight for the two weeks we managed to keep it from the rest of them, but inevitably it was discovered when Lucy saw it in Sarah's draw. The story came out in sobs as Lucy tortured Sarah by pulling her hair and I was beaten for my insolence and betrayal and forced to rip it to shreds in front of my distraught daughter.
Their wardrobes were not the only inequality between the girls. Lucy's bed had been upgraded to a queen size not long after the wedding. With not enough room for even another single bed in the room, Sarah has been relegated to a thin mattress that, by day, was tucked under Lucy's proper bed, and at night, was pulled out so Sarah could sleep on it. Of course, if Lucy felt the need to go to the toilet or elsewhere at night she would usually get out on the side Sarah slept, so Sarah had told me, and so Sarah developed a habit of not even sleeping on the mattress, but beside it, for fear of Lucy's feet. Even that was not enough and frequently I would find Sarah with bruises where Lucy had carelessly or intentionally trodden on or kicked her on her way out of the room.
School was no respite for Sarah as Lucy, pretty and popular with all the latest fashion, formed a clique of girls who ran their year and, according to Sarah, would go out of their way to ensure that she had no friends. With her dowdy and often disheveled appearance and meak manner, it was not surprising that she still had not had a boyfriend by the age of 18. She didn't even seem interested in boys. In fact there was only one person's opinion she really cared about.
Despite the abuse and unfairness Sarah worshiped Lucy.
"I just wish she would like me," she cried into my shoulder on more than one occasion. "She's so pretty and perfect, she's the best sister I could ask for. If I just try a bit harder, maybe she won't hate me as much and we can be friends."
The thing is she already tried harder than anyone could reasonably ask. She spent hours a day brushing her sister's hair, listening to her every diatribe and even "helping" with her schoolwork. As they got older Lucy would have Sarah do her hair and make up for her before leaving to go out with her friends, leaving Sarah to do her homework for her. I saw Sarah's eyes bright with hope every time that this would be the time she would get invited along. Once or twice she even got up the courage to ask.
"Please, please, I'll do anything you want, I promise I won't embarrass you, I'll be quiet, I'll stay away from you and your friends, please, I'm begging you, let me come out with you. I'll carry your coat, I'll hold the bags. I'll do anything you want," Sarah begged from her knees one time after spending 30 minutes on Lucy's hair.
"Ugh, like I want you dragging down the atmosphere," Lucy grunted. "Besides, who's going to do my homework?"
"It's already done, look," Sarah said, eagerly presenting her hard work to her sister. "I saved time by not doing mine. Please just let me come."
Lucy sneered.
"Like I'd be seen dead within a mile of you."
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