My Sister Celebrated in a Mansion While I Hid from Aliens Underground Chapter 02
The basement smelled of mildew and the rotting scent of old junk.
I tore the cardboard helmet into pieces and tucked them under the bed boards.
Then I lay down on the wooden bed with its single thin blanket and stared at the ceiling.
I thought about my fourth birthday.
That day was supposed to be my birthday, and Poppy’s third.
We were a year apart, but born on the same day.
The house was full of guests, and a beautiful two–tier cake sat on the coffee table.
I stood in the corner of the living room in an old dress washed almost white.
Poppy wore a pink poofy dress and sat in Dad’s arms like a little princess.
“Come on, Poppy. Blow out the candles.”
Marcus smiled broadly, guiding her small hand to cut the cake.
No one noticed I hadn’t made it to the table yet.
Later, after the guests left.
Poppy jumped around on the sofa and stepped on an important
document Marcus had left on the table.
Marcus’s face darkened.
Elena hurried over and yanked me toward her.
“Smack!”
The wooden ruler came down hard on my palm.
“What kind of big sister are you?”
Elena didn’t shout. She kept that respectable, intellectual
composure, but her voice was cold as ice.
“Your sister is little and doesn’t know any better. You’re four. Why
didn’t you stop her?”
It hurt so much I cried, but I didn’t dare make a sound.
“Mommy, I was washing the dishes…”
“Don’t make excuses.”
Elena cut me off, her brows tight.
“Mina, why are you so dull? You’re nothing like Poppy, so clever and lovable.”
Marcus carried Poppy into the bedroom to calm her down, without
so much as a glance at me.
The next morning, Marcus woke me up early.
With a panicked look, he stuffed me into the car and drove all the
way to Uncle Greg’s place in the country.
And that enormous lie about aliens locked me up here.
For three whole years.
I’d thought I wasn’t good enough, and that this important,
dangerous mission to save the Earth was their way of toughening me up.
But really, they just thought I was extra.
In the dark. I rolled out of bed.
I felt around in the pile of junk in the basement.
It was full of broken things Uncle Greg’s family didn’t want, rusted scrap and iron.
I didn’t make a sound, searching through the corners like a rat.
Finally, under a rusty metal cabinet, my fingers found something long, thin, and hard.
It was a piece of wire, about as long as half my hand.
I wiped it on my clothes and held it tightly in my hand.
Two days later, Uncle Greg opened the basement door again.
This time he didn’t bring food, just half a bottle of water.
The bottle was crumpled, and the water inside looked cloudy.
“Mina.”
Uncle Greg came down, eyes scanning the room warily.
“I heard something down here. What were you doing?“
I hid the wire in my sleeve, curled against the bed, and trembled.
“Uncle Greg, a rat bit my foot. I was shooing it away.”
Uncle Greg came over, half convinced, and pulled back my thin blanket to look.
My ankles were covered in red, swollen bite marks from a few days earlier.
He curled his lip in disgust.
“Tough it out. Wars aren’t easy.”
He dropped the half bottle of water at my feet.
“The aliens cut off the water supply. Earth is almost out of water.
Make it last; that bottle has to last a week.‘
I looked at the water, clearly scooped from a tank, and nodded calmly.
“Thank you, Uncle Greg.”
Uncle Greg sighed and launched into one of his lectures.
“Mina, you’re a sensible kid. Your parents are out in space risking
their lives for you.”
“It’s hard here, but at least you’re safe.”
“If you ever try to run, the aliens will catch you and use you for
experiments. They’ll drain every drop of your blood. Got it?”
He didn’t hit me. He didn’t yell at me.
He just said the most terrifying things in the calmest voice, trying
to nail me to this darkness.
“I know, Uncle Greg. I’d rather die than go out there.”
I looked up at him, my eyes empty.
Uncle Greg was very pleased with my obedience. He even reached
out to pat my head, then pulled his hand back in disgust when he
saw my greasy, matted hair.
“Good girl. Once the war is over, your parents will come take you
home to a good life.”
Uncle Greg turned and climbed the stairs.
The moment the iron door closed.
I unscrewed the half bottle of murky water and took a small sip to wet my cracked throat.
A good life?
They’d been living the good life in their downtown mansion for three years.
And I didn’t need them to come get me.