LEILA

Ever since I can remember, my mom has worked as a chef for the Villarreal mansion. At the age of four, I simply thought that was her job, nothing more. But by the time I was six, I caught her in bed with Mr. Villarreal. That's when I understood that she was his mistress. Even as a child, my intelligence was above average, and as someone who started online studies early, I grasped the situation. Yet, because I never had their attention, they never realized how smart I was.

I have a twin brother. His name is Leo. He gets to go out, attend school, and play with other kids, while I must remain hidden in the small house at the end of the mansion ground where they keep me. At first, I didn't understand why, but now it's crystal clear: Mr. Villarreal is our father. How do I know? My brother is the spitting image of our mother. There's nothing from that man in him, but I'm an exact female replica of him. That's why my brother can go out and I can't. If people saw him, they wouldn't think he's that man's son, but it'd be obvious with me. I have everything from him, from hair to skin color and eyes. Even our expressions match. We both have allergies to seafood and a love for strawberries.

I don't spend much time with Mr. Villarreal. He only visits this small house when his wife and children head out to the grandparents' for the weekend. Then, he'd come and dine with us and spend the night with mom. I'm forbidden from interacting with him. He converses only with my mother and brother and even celebrates my brother’s birthday. To Mr. Villarreal, I'm invisible, as if I'm not there—a reminder of his infidelity to his wife. My brother doesn't resemble him, so while his wife has seen my brother occasionally, she'd never guess he's her husband's child. But with me, she'd know immediately.

His three other sons with his wife don't bear as much resemblance to him as I do. They may have inherited his nose, hair, or eyes, but I am his mirror image. And that's why I am confined to this little cottage at the end of the Villarreal mansion garden.

Today is the day I detest most: my birthday. Since it’s Saturday, that man will come for dinner and celebrate my brother's birthday. Because to him, I don't exist, as if we're not twins. So today, I'll be made to sit at the table while he gives my brother his birthday present, chats with him, and they cut the cake.

"Leila, hurry up and set the table," my mother Leonor instructs.

"Mom, can I go to bed early?" I ask, trying to escape the dinner.

"You know you can't, Leila. So hurry up," she replies, and I lower my head, arranging everything on the table. Today we turn ten, and only my brother is celebrating.

I don't hate my brother. He tells me all he does in school, always buys me ice cream, and brings things for me. He also embraces me when I'm down, which is nearly every day. But he's powerless to make that man let me out to study in school. Thanks to my brother, I'm able to study online because that man didn't want to provide anything; my brother convinced him to give me a laptop so that I wouldn't feel as trapped.

"He's here," says my mother as I finish setting the table.

Mr. Villareal walks in, a tall man with blue eyes and blonde hair, a mole above his lip, dressed in tailor-made suits. We're identical except for the costliness of our apparel. I own clothes my mom finds on sale in the market. She's not allowed to spend much on me.

"Leo, happy birthday. Here's your gift," he hands my brother a box which he opens while I lower my gaze.

"A state-of-the-art phone. Thank you, Mr. Villareal," my brother replies, trying to temper his excitement for my sake.

"Alright, let's sit down to eat," my mother says.

The four of us sit at the table, with Mr. Villareal talking to my brother about school grades and various other things. I eat in silence. Afterwards, they cut the cake, and then they go to bed. I do the same, locking myself in my small room to weep as I do on every birthday.

"Leila, please open the door," my brother pleads from the other side.

"I don't want to, leave me alone," I say through tears.

"Please, little one, open the door," he begs, and I let him in.

"Small one, come here," he says, embracing me, and I sob in his arms like there’s no tomorrow.

"When you're older, no one will force you to hide. I'll protect you from them all, and you'll be free, I promise," he comforts me.

"I hate him," I say amidst tears that won't stop flowing.

"I know, little one, but we can't do anything, not yet. We're just kids," he says, trying to console me until we hear shouting from mom's room.

"You're insane, you have to abort. If it turns out like that brat, I can't cover it up any longer. So take this money and don't look for me until you've gotten rid of it," we hear Mr. Villareal yell. Then the sound of mom's room door, followed by the exit door slamming shut.

"Is Mom pregnant?" I ask.

"Yes, but it looks like Mr. Villareal isn't happy, so I don’t think my mom will have it," Leo answers.

That night, my brother slept with me. When I woke, he wasn't by my side, so I showered and readied for breakfast.

"Leila, eat. I have to go do something. Your brother is with Mr. Villareal at a football match. I'll return in the afternoon," my mom tells me.

"Are you going to abort the baby?" I ask as I sit down at the table.

"It's for the best, Leila," she replies.

"For you, or for Mr. Villareal?" I ask, irritated.

"For us all. You know he's your father, he's the one in charge," she says.

"That man is not my dad. If he doesn't want me as his daughter, why should I want him as my father? I hate him," I respond.

"Leila, please, I have to go. We'll see each other tonight," my mom says before leaving.

"Mommy, please don’t do it. Let's leave this place, forget that man. He doesn't care about you," I plead with tears in my eyes.

"Leila, we're not going anywhere. He's the one paying for your brother’s school and all our expenses," Leonor tells me.

"And he's the one who forces me to stay hidden. Because of him, I know nothing but these walls. How long must I be trapped here for something that's not my fault?" I protest, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm sorry, my girl, but I can do no more than obey your father," my mom says.

"I told you he's not my father," I reply. She leaves, wiping tears from her face. I hear the door lock and continue to cry. I don't want breakfast, so I return to my room and grab my laptop.

I enjoy watching videos of world landscapes and animals. They calm me, along with music. I spend all day in my room. I heard my brother and that man come back for lunch, but I stayed inside. There were some cookies in my room, so that's what I ate. For dinner, I came out because my mother returned and made me.

"Mom, are you okay?" I ask, noticing how pale she looks.

"Yes, I will be once I rest," she answers with a forced smile.

We have dinner in silence, but my concern for my mother lingers. At the end of the meal, she goes to rest, and that man leaves. My brother gives me some chocolates he bought for me, and then we head to bed in our respective rooms.

NARRATOR

Leila awoke to the sound of her brother's screams, and so she dashed out of bed and into her mother's room from where the cries emanated.

"What's happening?" she inquired.

"Mom won't wake up, stay with her, I'm getting help," her brother said, rushing out. Leila approached her mom.

Having watched many medical videos and read many books, she approached and checked for a pulse. She couldn't find it and knew then her mother was dead, the tears flowing on their own. She sat down on the floor to weep, and soon the doctor arrived with Mr. Villarreal and her brother.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do; she’s already gone. She died from a botched abortion, leading to an overnight hemorrhage,” the doctor said after examining her.

"It's your fault, you forced her into it, I despise you!" Leila yelled at Mr. Villarreal. After the doctor left, she felt a harsh blow to her face and fell to the ground.

"Listen up, brat. Your mother never let me hit you, but she's gone now, so stay quiet and in your room. I still don't know what I’ll do with you, now that Leonor’s not here," he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her room, locking the door. She pounded on the door, but it never opened.

She cried all day and into the night until sleep took her. The next morning, still weak and the door still locked, she cried until at noon it opened, and her brother entered with a plate of food and juice. Someone closed the door as soon as he came in.

"Eat, you haven't in a while," her brother said.

"Who's at the door?" she queried while eating.

"A guard Mr. Villarreal posted," Leo responded.

"And mom?" she asked on the verge of tears.

"We buried her just now,” her brother said.

"He wouldn't let me say goodbye, what's he going to do with me?" she probed, crying anew.

"He wanted to send you to an orphanage, but I talked him out of it," Leo stated.

"So, he'll just keep me locked up here until I die?" she asked.

"No, you'll be sent away to a boarding school abroad. He’ll cover all your expenses until you come of age, and then you're on your own. I tried to convince him to give you an apartment when you leave the school, so you'd have somewhere to live, but he wouldn't agree," said Leo.

"So, I won't see you anymore?" she said, her voice tight with emotion.

"No, but it's for the best. I swear we'll meet again and avenge our mother's death. But it's better you're away from him and are able to prepare. Study hard, and our paths will cross again. I don't know when, but I'll find you, and then no one can ever pull us apart," Leo assured.

"And what will happen to you?" she wanted to know.

"He spoke with his wife over the phone and convinced her to adopt me. I'll be their adopted son. He lied to the lady, telling her that you and mom died in an accident, leaving me all alone," said Leo.

"I loathe him so much," she declared sorrowfully.

"I hate him too, but one day he'll pay for all the harm he’s caused. Now eat. He'll come to take you to the boarding school soon. I don't know where it is, but I'll find out, and we will reunite. After all, we're twins," Leo said.

My brother stayed with me until Mr. Villareal yanked me out of the house by my hair and shoved me into the car. He got in and drove off. I turned to look back and there was my brother, waving goodbye and crying, just like me.

I cried the whole way while Mr. Villareal drove.

"Shut up already," he hit me with his hand, and it was very scary. It hurt too.

When we arrived at his private plane, he dragged me out of the car by my hair and onto the plane. Then he flung me into one of the seats.

"Listen good, you're going to forget your brother, me, and my family. I want you to forget who we are and that we ever met. Where you're going, they’ll teach you to behave, and when you’re of age, they'll throw you to the streets and your fate. But don't come back to New York, because if you do, you won’t survive," Mr. Villareal warned before I stayed quiet in my seat.

The flight felt endlessly long, and I received nothing to eat during the trip. Mr. Villareal ate, but not me. As soon as we landed, he pulled me out by my hair again and into a chauffeured car. At this rate, I'm going to end up bald. The driver drove for two hours into the freezing cold, and I had no coat or anything. I was freezing, but Mr. Villareal didn't care. We arrived at a large, luxurious building. Just as he had with the plane, he dragged me from the car. My head ached all because of him.

“This is the wretch I want you to take care of. She’s not to have any contact with the outside world, no outings, and especially no use of the phone or electronics. If you need to hit her, do it; I don't care. She doesn't leave until she's of age, and then she's out on the streets," Mr. Villareal instructed before leaving me laying on the ground like an old rag.

"Follow me," commanded a woman, and I complied.

“This will be your room. Everyone gets up at five in the morning. Breakfast is at six, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven. If you are not on time, you will not eat. Now sleep in the closet. Here’s your uniform and everything else you’ll need. Remember to be in the dining hall by six or you'll miss breakfast," the woman stated in perfect English.

"Excuse me, what country are we in?" I asked before she could leave.

“We're in Russia," she replied, and left. I was frozen to the spot at that. He had taken me as far away as possible. How will I ever return to my brother? How will I see him again from so far away?

LEILA

On my first day at the boarding school, I skipped breakfast since I overslept, and a staff member woke me up by drenching me with a bucket of cold water. Soaked and freezing, I was ordered to dress quickly and head to class, which I promptly did. I dressed and brushed my blonde hair before following her to the classroom.

“This is your new classmate, her name is Leila Scott. I will not tolerate any disruptions or conflicts, or you'll end up in the hole,” introduced the teacher.

"Take a seat," she directed me where, and I complied. The class began, and it was math. On each desk was a pencil and a mathematics book.

We were tasked with solving various problems, and since I had watched many videos on the subject, I found it not too challenging. We all turned in our books and returned to our seats.

"Look at that, we have a brainiac here," commented the teacher after reviewing the books for a while.

"Leila, where did you learn to solve these exercises?" inquired the teacher.

"Online," I replied.

"I see," she acknowledged without further comment, and when class ended, I raced to the cafeteria. My hunger was intense, and I didn't want to miss lunch.

I ate everything they served, including the vegetables, due to my intense hunger. After eating, a group of girls approached me.

"So, you're the orphan they dumped here," commented a twelve-year-old girl with reddish hair and green eyes.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," she pressed.

"I don’t want trouble," I replied, standing to leave for my next class.

"Why are you running away? Is it true you're the daughter of a mistress and that's why your daddy abandoned you here? You’re a bastard," she continued, and I clenched my fists, not wanting to give them a reason to punish me.

“Be careful, she’s surely going to be a slut like her mother, and when she grows up will mess around with married men like her bitch mother,” I could no longer contain myself.

"Shut up, idiot," I pushed her, and she fell to the ground.

"Leila, what are you doing?" the woman who had welcomed me the night before exclaimed.

"It was her; she wouldn't stop bothering me," I said, my voice tinged with fear.

"Violence is not welcome here, so you're punished. You'll spend the afternoon in the hole," she declared as the others smirked maliciously.

"What is that?" I asked, fearfully.

"You'll find out," she said, grabbing my arm and dragging me to a dark, dreary basement. She locked me in there and left. Cockroaches and rats were my only company, frightening me greatly.

"Please, get me out of here. I want to go, I don’t want to be here," I cried for hours, but no one came until it got dark, and they released me. My eyes were red from crying.

"I hope you've learned your lesson. Go to your room, change, and head to the cafeteria, or you'll miss dinner," she instructed, and I obeyed, still frightened.

I hurried to my room, took a quick shower, changed, and sprinted to the dining hall where I devoured everything they served. I didn't glance at the other girls and returned to my room. I wanted no further trouble. I locked my room and went to bed early. I needed to wake at five and be in the cafeteria by six, but I couldn't help but cry. It was for my mother and brother that I am alone, but I swear someday Mr. Villarreal will pay for all the harm he's caused me and for my mother's death.

The next morning, I rose extra early, had a shower, and was punctual at breakfast. I dined alone at a table and then went to my Russian class. Not understanding much, I sought out the library afterward and requested a Russian dictionary. Then it was back to the cafeteria and on to my next class, making sure to keep my distance from the other girls. At night, I memorized the dictionary and practiced its pronunciation. Everything would be easier with a computer, but I'm forbidden from using any electronic devices or having any kind of contact with the outside world.

After a month, I'd mastered Russian and avoided the other girls, but it couldn't last forever.

"Hello, little slut," the same silly girl from the first day taunted.

"Leave me alone. I've told you I don't want trouble," I tried to avoid her.

"You know, my father is the one who recommended this place to your father. Mr. Villarreal paid a lot to never hear from you again, and my father promised you wouldn't be happy here, locked away. I can't let my father down," the silly girl bragged. My fists clenched. I didn't want to be punished again in that rat- and cockroach-infested place, so I tried to keep walking.

"Slut, I'm talking to you," she grabbed my hair, and I pushed her away.

"Leave me alone," we scuffled, and we both fell to the ground.

"What is going on here?" demanded a woman in her forties with a furious bulldog's visage.

"She started it, Miss Director," the silly girl swiftly accused.

"That's not true," I protested.

"Silence and walk," the director grabbed my arm, and on the way, I dreaded she was taking me back to that place.

"Why am I being punished when she was the one who started it?" I asked, trying to free myself from her tight grip, which was painfully firm, likely to leave a mark.

"It's because you don't have a father to make a fuss or create scandals at the school. Nobody cares what happens to you. Meanwhile, everyone in Ivone’s family loves her and always has her in their thoughts. She is a princess. If she complains because you're not punished, her family will cause an uproar, which is bad for the school. Now be quiet and go inside," she shoved me into the basement, and I fell to the cold floor among the rats and cockroaches.

I curled up in a corner, hugged my legs, allowing my tears free reign, and cried all night. In the morning, they came to fetch me. They allowed me to eat breakfast in my room but insisted I attend classes afterward. I was so tired I paid no attention to the lessons.

"Stretch out your hands," the mathematics teacher ordered, and I did as told. She struck my hands with a wooden board three times, bringing tears to my eyes.

"This is to ensure you don’t get distracted in my class again. Understood?" I nodded and was allowed to return to my seat. Now not only did my body ache and my eyes feel heavy, but my hands hurt as well. After classes, I ate quickly and ran to my room to take a cold shower to stay awake during Russian class, or my hands would hurt again.

I focused as much as possible during Russian class. Then, after dinner, I nearly collapsed into my bed. The bad news was that I fell asleep and was woken again with cold water, missing breakfast.

That was my first year at the boarding school. Nearly every day I ended up in that cold basement, and the next day I would get hit on the hands for closing my eyes in class and, therefore, not waking up early. They always woke me with cold water. With each passing day, my hatred grew for Mr. Villareal and for the stupid Ivone, who was responsible for most of my punishments.

Now a rich girl is to share my room. Her grandparents asked to place her with someone since she is very fragile and suffers from asthma. They are afraid she might have an episode when alone. All the other girls refused. Of course, her parents were there and they refused. But since I am nonexistent to everyone, I couldn't refuse to share. My room is large, but it only has my small single bed and a closet for my uniforms. I have no belongings. Mr. Villareal didn’t let me pack anything, so I own nothing.

Some men came to set up the new girl's things. Her grandparents really do love her a lot. Her bed is princess-like, and her bedspreads look expensive. She has two large wardrobes, one for uniforms and the other for her pajamas and belongings. She had everything, plenty of books, and a desk for her homework. My small bed looked out of place among all the beautiful things they brought for her. I laid down to sleep in my little bed, ignoring all the things in the room.