One of the many perks of living in a castle instead of an average house was having a ginormous bedroom just for yourself. On the downside, the acoustics here didn't allow anybody privacy. I could hear everything. I mean, everything!

If I crouched by the window, I could hear the kitchen staff discussing what to cook for the day. As I got older, I was more interested in how the cook talked behind my mom and called her funny names.

Leaning an ear against the wall by the door let me listen to Dad's study. Though, I lost my enthusiasm when he started getting regular visits from one of our maids. Their conversations mainly consisted of long sighs, aahs, and oohs—and left me scarred for life.

The shower drain in my bathroom carried all sorts of noises through the old pipes. However, listening to that specific drain was risky. I could either hear the funny bantering of the maids and giggle, or stumble upon one of the fights between Mom and Dad and run back to bed.

I was more focused on hearing a specific word nowadays. I'd lie on my bed and wait for Mom to repeat it three times in her bedroom from the other side of the wall. A word I'd been hearing forever but could never remember...

She repeated it like a prayer sometimes. Sometimes, she screamed it as if it was a curse. Lately, it sounded like a plea when she called it three times. If only I could remember that stupid word!

I've tried repeating it, but after rolling around my tongue, the word slipped my mind. Writing it was useless because the moment the pen touched the paper, the word disappeared. I tried recording Mom's voice on my phone, but it was never audible. I even considered sneaking into my parents' bedroom to set up a camera, but come on! That would be creepy!

After another long, sleepless night, I headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Mom met me halfway down the stone stairs, took a drag from her cigarillo and rolled her eyes when I smiled.

"For God's sake, Alaia. If you want to be sociable, at least dress up properly."

I looked down at my red summer dress with flower prints. It was cute and presentable. Could it be my hair? I ran my fingers through my ponytail. My blonde locks were tied up neatly, no loose strands...

"Your flip-flops." Mom narrowed her eyes behind the fumes.

"Right." I wiggled my toes.

Flicking her lighter open and shut, Mom clicked her tongue and stomped up the stairs.

I waited for her to say something or at least shoot me a smile before she disappeared into the dark hall, but instead, she slammed her door and shattered something inside me. Ouch!

"Morning to you too, Mom. And happy birthday to me," I mumbled and dragged my feet to the kitchen.

My grapefruit had been waiting for me when I sat by the breakfast table. Dad's newspaper was neatly folded into a puffed pile at his usual place—he must have left for work early. The cooks and staff were sharing a few laughs, as always. I silently spooned my sour meal and raised my gaze when everyone stopped talking at once.

The redhead who loved serving Dad giggled and brought my cup of mint tea.

"Morning, Alaia."

"Morning, Lucy." I turned to the army of cooks behind the kitchen counter. "Please don't stop. I won't speak a word to you know who."

I expected them to go back to work and gossip about Mom while I scooped out another juicy piece from my fruit—but gasped suddenly when a metal thunderstorm shook the kitchen. The staff was banging and clashing their utensils.

I dropped my spoon and jumped in my place.

They were singing me happy birthday!

My heart thumped in my ears. My hands were sweating so much!

Lucy left a chocolate cupcake with a burning candle in front of me and smiled. "Happy eighteenth, Alaia."

Her sweet voice filled my eyes with tears. I wiped them before they got a chance to spill, and then blew out my candle. "Don't say a word about this to my mom!"

The walls hummed with their laughter while Lucy gave me an assuring pat on the back.

Yeah, Mom hated celebrating my birthdays. She loved celebrating hers, though. I enjoyed sitting by the fireplace in my bedroom on her special day, listening to the cheers from the party down below. The clinking of glasses would always be followed by a dirty birthday song in her honor. I'd giggle and imagine Mom throwing back her thick, dark hair while she received compliments about how good she looked for her age. I always wished to be a part of her parties, even if only for a few minutes... But I guess, she was worried about me being an underage teen in a drinking environment.

"She's a bitch!" exclaimed our old cook, slamming his spatula on the kitchen counter.

Or Mom could be just that. A bitch.

I choked on my mint tea, trying not to giggle.

"Seriously, Alaia. She has some loose screws, your mom. We are glad you're going to college this year. It's about time you learned about the real world out there," he continued, wiping his hands on his apron.

Lucy elbowed and shushed the cook, eyeing upstairs.

"Oh, I've been working here forever. She would have fired me long ago had she wanted to." He rolled his eyes.

"What does she do for her skin, though?" Lucy asked. "I'm ten years younger than her, but I swear she almost looks Alaia's age."

"She eats babies," a maid commented and made me chuckle.

"Drinks bat blood."

"That would just give her covid."

"Maybe it is covid, but a weird mutation."

I finished my cupcake and grabbed my mug, quietly leaving the staff to do what they did best. Gossip.

Mom's cries reached me from downstairs. Was she roasting Dad on the phone or talking to herself again? I hurried to my bedroom and crossed my legs on the giant bed to listen while I sipped my tea.

"Are you kidding? White hair? I have a strand of white hair! Gio!"

The sound of that weird word gave me goosebumps.

Gio, I whispered, even though I knew it was going to slip my mind.

"Gio!" she screamed again. "You hear me? I want an extension!"

Was she sniffing? Sobs! She was sobbing!

Gio, I repeated as I rose on my knees to hold an ear against the wall.

"You're going to come here eventually, you sneaky bastard! Our deal is not over yet!"

More sniffing and a deep exhale.

I could hear her brush her hair. She must have been tugging at it too hard.

I slurped my tea while repeating in my head, Gio, Gio, Gio.

Mom suddenly became silent. I held my breath. Her footsteps hit the hardwood floor as she marched out of her bedroom.

I hurried into the shower and crouched by the drain. After a short wait, the pipes carried her voice from the garden as she talked to our driver. She was going to the hairdresser.

I giggled and swayed my way into Mom's bedroom.

Gio, Gio, Gio. It was funny how I hadn't forgotten that silly word yet.

I picked Mom's hairbrush off the floor and placed it on the makeup table. Then I leaned toward my reflection against the antique mirror wondering when I'd get my first strand of white hair. Some silver wisps wouldn't be noticeable in my caramel-blonde complexion. Honestly, I didn't see the big deal about aging.

I straightened my dress with a sigh. I wish I had Mom's curves... See, I was tall and flat, just like a scarecrow. My arms resembled two skinny chicken wings if I bent my elbows in a certain way. There was nothing strong or defined about me, and perhaps that was one of the reasons why I wasn't allowed to party with the guests.

The least I could define while I was here was my eyelashes. I snatched Mom's mascara and applied it sloppily. There, my dark eyes looked even darker now.

Lipstick was next. I grabbed the brightest red and leaned in to put it on. My reflection smiled back at me with her rosy lips. She wasn't appalling...

"Gio. Gio. Gio." My breath fogged against the mirror. It was such a useless word!

Suddenly, my sight started fading to black. I gasped! Had I applied too much mascara? I wiped my sticky eyes and blinked a few times, but my reflection kept getting darker—until it completely turned black!

I gasped again.

Was I going blind?