THE CHANGE
Valerie's Pov.
For a moment I think maybe I've missed Daphne’s response. But as the silence continues to stretch on— no shouts of joy, no applause— I realize that I haven't, she hasn't answered yet.
As the seconds count on, the atmosphere no doubt changing from expectant to confusion a peal of hope blooms in my chest. There can only one reason why.
She's having second thoughts.
At this point she must realize that this isn't meant for her, that the man asking her to marry him shares something with another woman. She must realize that it's unfair and mywrong to the other woman, even if the other woman is me.
Daphne Patterson is feeling guilty.
I squeeze my palms to my chest, as I pray she does the right thing.
Mother's voice rings out, high and eager. “Of course, Mr. Hills, it would be an honor! Daphne would be absolutely thrilled to marry you!”
The hands at my chest tremble. Mother is quick to seal the deal, to ensure Daphne claims the role of his bride, of course, but Daphne herself hasn't said anything yet.
I think she's going to refuse. I'll love her forever, and show my gratitide for that long too. Anything she wants I'll give to her, if she'll just let me have my happiness.
Please Daphne, I implore, please!
“What do you think, Miss Patterson?” Andrew Hills’s deep voice asked softly, as if bracing himself for her answer.
For a moment more, there was silence. My breath hitches as I wait for her answer, as we all wait for her answer. Is she going to say yes? Is she really going to go along with this deceit?
Then I hear her whisper, so faint I almost miss it, a word that shattered me, finally.
“Yes,” Daphne said, her voice trembling, but the excitement beneath it, crystal clear. “I will marry you.”
I bite down on my lip so hard I taste copper in my mouth. I stand there feeling so silly, so stupid, feeling like the idiocy they accuse me of.
Of course she doesn't feel guilty. I just really wanted it to be true. I'm projecting what I would feel if the roles were reversed. How could I forget that no matter what lies her success is built on, Daphne is the daughter of her parents.
Suddenly I'm transported in my mind back to when we were little kids.
I remember one cool afternoon I found this ball in the grass. I didn't know who it belonged too but I was kicking it around it the lawn. Mother had just yelled at me for dropping a pan, so it was a distraction I really needed.
I remember Cook telling me how it was ok, how there was no harm done since it didn't break but mother was so angrybshe slapped me across the face. “You're too careless,” she said, “that could have easily been my teacups.”
I hadn't been out there for two long when Daphne walked out of the house accompanied by her maid. I didn’t have a maid and I thought it was because I was older than Daphne so I didn't need one, though I'd never had one even when I was as little as Daphne.
She sat in a chair by the pool, eating her candy. I didn't know what they actually were, I just knew they were Daphne's candy and that I was never to touch them.
“I want that ball,” she'd whined.
So the maid came up to me and took it.
Maybe I've always been an idiot because at first I was happy. Daphne wants to play with me! I thought.
But she didn’t. She tossed the ball around her, the maid retrieving for her everytime it went out of her reach. I watch for a second before stomping my feet.
“No fair! I found it! And she's not even playing it right.”
Tears gathered in my eyes as I watched. Neither of them even acknowledged me. I could have vanished into think air, and it wouldn't have changed that afternoon.
It was the day I truly began to understand the dynamics. For the first time, I stopped myself from crying. It won't do anything, I thought. My tears aren’t special like Daphne's. When Daphne cries everyone brings her candy, asks her what happened, and promises her more toys even though her room is full of them.
As I watched on, I began to get hot. That was the day I first felt true rage. It really wasn't fair, I thought, it was mine! And I wanted to push her into the pool.
I feel that rage now, magnified tenfold, as the loud celebration of Daphne's engagement banged against my brain.
How can they be so cruel?
I didn't do anything wrong, didn't do anything to deserve being locked up like some sort of disobedient animal they're trying to keep out of a treat drawer. This isn’t just a lie— it’s my life they’re playing with, twisting the strings like some tragic puppet show.
They've even taken their cruelty to a different level, all the way to considering my death!
I don't care anymore.
They can take their love and keep it between themselves. I don't want it, I'm through. Margaret and Richard are no longer my parents and Daphne, the coverting bitch, can fall down a ditch and drown.
I gasp outloud, horrified by the direction my thoughts are going but with a shaky breath grab on to it; that rage that has calmly simmered under the surface of my skin since that day, dampened by the stupid hope that I will wake up one day to a loving family.
I have to do something. I can’t let this farce continue. The truth deserves lmto come out, if not for anything else but for me.
I look out the considering climbing out, but the drop is too high. If I fell I could survive but that would hurt really bad, and I'll probably break something. If I fell wrong I might even kill myself. I wouldn't give them that, give them the satisfaction of my death.
Since I can’t get out through the window, I’d have to risk the out the door. Is that possible?
I glance at the bodyguard clicking away on his phone. He's distracted. I'm mostly sure the door isn't locked, sure enough I'm willing to risk it.
I make a run for the door, a full sprint that has me standing in front of it mere moments later. Still I'm too slow, a heavy hand clamps down on my arm as I tug the door open.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the bodyguard growls, dragging me back.
“Let me go!” I scream, struggling against his iron grip. I buck as hard as I can, making sure he has his hands full and can't reach for his wicked looking knife. By the look on his face, he'd be all too happy to stab me in the throat.
“Stop, leave me alone!” I scream, my voice echoing through the hall again.
I get an idea. Yes, that's right. If Mr Hills hears me, and comes to investigate, maybe the distraction can let me get away. Because after this stunt I'm pulling, if I'm still in the house when he leaves, Margaret and Richard will show me hell for the disgrace.
A small part of me, the stupid delusional part of myself I now hate with a passion, sighs amidst my struggle with the bodyguard. Maybe if he sees me, he'll marry me instead.
I'd scoff if I could, but the bodyguard rams a knee into my stomach. Eyes watering through the pain, I keep writhing knowing I can't let him subdue me.
I'm done being naive and foolish. He still proposed to Daphne. Seeing me with clear eyes in daylight might change his mind. I may not be cursed but I know I'm ugly.
Even if he realizes I'm the woman from last night, he could still take one good look at my scarred face and decide to go on with the wedding with Daphne.
But then at least the distraction can let me get away. “Help!” I shout again, louder this time.
Beside us, the room falls silent. They can't ignore that, and I hope Mr Hills comes out soon. I can
't keep this up. “Help me!”
“What’s that sound?” I hear Mr Hills ask, his tone urgent with concern.