"Mignnon, Therese, you need to get up." Sylvie gently shook her two younger sisters awake, Stepsisters, but to be honest, it was more like she was their mother.

 "Bèbè's not up," Mignnon whined.

Sylvie had no patience, she was not a morning person. Only the love for her little ones kept her from strangling Mignnon.

 And Babette, otherwise known as Bèbè, was fast asleep. For a moment, Sylvie just looked at the sleeping four year old, so peaceful. So quiet. Bèbè was never quiet when she was awake but then again,  she was so little.

 Sylvie kissed her forehead. "Time for school," she whispered in Bèbè's ear.

 Mignnon was six, Therese was almost eight. Sylvie had seen to it that Delphine got her tubes tied so there would be no more little ones. A little after Bèbè was born, Sylvie had a little "talk" with Delphine. Mon Dieu, that had cost her a blinding headache but it was worth it to ensure that her stepmother would never get pregnant again.

The headache was so bad that it was the last time Sylvie made Delphine do anything. That was how it worked unfortunately. If she had any connection to the other person, whether she loved or hated them, the result was always the same whenever she made them do whatever she wanted. The command would be obeyed but the mental force she used rebounded right back to her, making her head implode.

Sylvie idly wondered whether her papa had the same problem. Because she had no doubt that he could do it as well. How else had he managed to swindle so many women out of their savings? Too bad it only worked
on individuals, maybe then he wouldn't be in jail.

And he probably would have gotten away with it too if he hadn't gotten greedy and stupid. Robbing banks and murdering security guards and tellers, please, he should have stuck to petty thievery. Sylvie did it all the time. Food had to get on the table somehow and Delphine sure as hell wasn't gonna buy it.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Merde! It was already six fifteen. The bus would come at 6:45 for Mignnone and Therese, and she had to drop Bèbè off at the church pre-school before she made it to St. Catherine Laboure. All the children, including her stepbrother Etienne, went to Catholic school, though she doubted that he bothered
to go.

Thank God Mignnone and Therese were old enough to get dressed by themselves.  Bèbè was as well but it would take her forever and Sylvie did not have forever. "I'll make breakfast in a bit," she called out to the older two.
 

Breakfast would only be cereal and orange juice but if she left the two of them to do it themselves, they'd leave a mess that Sylvie didn't have time to clean up. It was easier just to do it for them, like it was easier to put the plaid skirt and white blouse she ironed the night before on Bèbè's unresisting body. She struggled when Delphine tried to dress her but Bèbè knew better than to pull that with Sylvie.

Ah, socks, shoes, Bèbè was ready.

 It was 6:30.

 Like a demon, Sylvie ran through the kitchen, got the orange juice and cereal and poured them into glasses and bowls she'd already placed on the kitchen table before she woke them up. She didn't bother for herself. Breakfast did not agree with her and besides, eating now would be a luxury she couldn't afford.

 Beep, beep. Six forty five. Right on time, as usual. Sylvie kissed Mignnone and Therese's cheeks and handed them their lunch boxes, already wrapped up in her next chore, putting away the cereal and orange juice and clearing the table. Then, as soon as the dishes were in the sink, she scrubbed them and put them in the dishrack to dry. Sylvie ran a wet rag across the table and she was done with the kitchen. It was a good thing she could move quickly.
 

 Maybe she'd make it on time to school this morning. Sylvie had already been late once this week and Sister Bernadette didn't and wouldn't understand if she said "I'm sorry but I had to get my sisters to school." No, she'd just wrinkle her face and tell her to get up earlier.
 

They were almost out the door but Sylvie knew she should ask Bèbè now rather than wait until they were halfway there. "Faire pipi?"
 

 Bèbè shook her head, auburn ringlets bouncing. "No."

 "Are you sure?"

 She nodded emphatically. "Don't hafta."

 Sylvie sighed because it was too good to be true and sure enough, when they were only a few blocks away, Bèbè piped up, "I gotta go to the bathroom."

 Bien crisse!

 By the time they ran home, got Bèbè in and out of the bathroom and headed out the door it was already 7:30. And Sylvie was already late. If she had been by herself she could have run faster and possibly make it by 7:50 but with Bèbè dawdling every five seconds she didn't reach the church until 8:00. Which meant that Sylvie didn't make it to St. Catherine's until 8:15. School started at 7:30. Sharp.

It would have been easier to go straight to the principal's office. Sylvie knew that would be where she'd end up anyway, but that would NOT be following procedures and if she didn't follow procedure her punishment would be worse. So she opened the classroom door as silently as she could and slid into her seat soundlessly.

Not soundlessly enough. The old heifer saw her anyway, probably because she'd been keeping her eagle eyes ready. "Mademoiselle Augeron." Sister Bernadette's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Have you not learned how to set your alarm?"

The class tittered and Sylvie's cheeks grew hot. "Yes, Sister Bernadette," she replied.
 

 Sylvie was sent to the principal's office, just as she predicted. She held out her hand, palm down on the desk and kept her face stoic as the ruler smacked across her knuckles. She felt no pain, Sylvie had become disconnected from her body long ago. Physical pain meant nothing to her, except when she got one of those boomerang headaches. She knew the principal wanted her to cry, or at least react. Sylvie wouldn't. She felt nothing, what was the point of pretending?
 

When the school bell finally rang, Sylvie walked over to pick up Bèbè. Now that she had about 30 minutes before Bèbè's school closed, she could take a few moments just to breathe.
 

"Hey, girlie," some guy called out.

Sylvie had just begun to develop breasts. Not that they were very big, but some men had this asinine fantasy about young girls in Catholic school uniforms. As she had done with the other perverts, she walked straight ahead with her head held high, ignoring him.
 

But then his paw clamped onto her shoulder. "I'm talking to you, cock tease!"
 

This was the first one who touched her. He'd pay for that.

Sylvie turned to face him and focused her will. Then she took all the anger and hate she'd been feeling all day and hurled it at him. Because she had no connection to him, she didn't feel the overwhelming despair that she knew had suddenly come over him. When she threw hate at people the effects ranged from the equivalent to a mental slap, to the person becoming suicidal. This was something in the middle.
 

 The man fell to his knees sobbing pathetically. "I'm sorry, I'msorry," he said over and over, begging for some sort of forgiveness. Sylvie turned on her heel and stalked away, feeling nothing but contempt. If she tried something like that with Delphine, Sylvie would get the backlash and she'd want to kill herself. She found that out the hard way when she attempted it with an ex friend. She slit her wrists before she realized what was happening. And what really made it worse was that it seemed to bounce back to her without even effecting the one it was meant for.
 
 

It never occurred to Sylvie to wonder why she could do these things. They were instinctive, a part of her. Besides, it wasn't as if she had the spare time for such rubbish.
 
 

 After she got Bèbè, they walked home. Sylvie resisted the urge to drag the hand that gripped hers so tightly. Bèbè wanted to look at EVERYTHING, even though she'd seen the same things every day. The same church with its stained glass windows and church tower. Same cottage like houses that were nicer than her ramshackle house.
 

 Nothing changed.

 Ah, but in some ways she envied Bèbè's wide eyed innocence. The universe fascinated her, whether it was a butterfly or a blade of grass. Sylvie never had the opportunity to be wide-eyed or innocent. Not since she was Mignnone's age, when she was already been left alone with Therese. She was nearly thirteen now, but Sylvie felt at
least twice that.  Etienne was almost eighteen.
 
 

 Hmmmm, maybe he'd be home later. Etienne was at that age where he stayed out at night, breaking curfew all the time. But he was a boy and he had such privileges. Sylvie worshiped him, he was the closest thing to a father she could remember having. Her own father dumped her here when she was less than a year old. Etienne had taken care of her, becoming the big brother he didn't have to be.
 

When Sylvie got home, Delphine was already waiting for her. So, she finally decided to get her slutty ass home. She was early for a change, but Sylvie was far from thrilled. If Delphine was home, there had to be a reason.

Sylvie would find out soon enough. In the meantime, she told Bèbè to go the girls' room so she could start dinner. She had three hours but by the time she got the vegetables chopped up, the meat tenderized enough for the stew and put in the slow cooker, it would leave her with only two hours. Stew went the farthest and since Delphine was
home for dinner it would have to.

"Sylvie, we're having company tomorrow," Delphine announced.

Oh goody. Another boyfriend. Sylvie rolled her eyes but didn't stop peeling the potatoes.

"I'm talking to you, girl."

She wanted Sylvie to respond in some fashion, to talk to her. Sylvie never spoke to adults unless she absolutely had to, and when the new loverboy was there tomorrow, she wouldn't talk to him either, which would annoy Delphine no end. Sylvie lived to annoy Delphine. It was one of the few things in life she truly enjoyed.
 
 

This boyfriend would be history in a few days. Just like all the others. Either he'd grow tired of Delphine or she'd find someone new.

Yet Sylvie had to give the woman credit, as much as it bothered her to. Delphine had no blood connection to her. Sylvie's father was out of the picture for good, but not once did she even threaten to send Sylvie to an orphanage. She treated Sylvie as if she were her own child. Granted, it was pretty lousy, but at least there was no bias.
 

And Sylvie realized that in her own selfish way, Delphine was trying to find a new father for them, a new breadwinner. That was why she couldn't bring herself to hate the woman. Somewhere underneath it all, Delphine Arsenault had good intentions.

Yes, the road to hell was paved with them, but Sylvie could have hated her a lot easier if Delphine had been malicious instead of weak and neglectful. That didn't mean she liked Delphine. Sylvie took care of her stepsisters because she knew that Delphine couldn't. And because she knew that if Delphine had been capable, she would have done it herself. Delphine did not love Sylvie, but that was to be expected. She knew Delphine would resent her because she was a reminder of her father, Benoit.
 
 

However, Delphine did love her children and the few times the fog cleared from her brain she'd shower her girls with affection. She loved Etienne as well, but he probably never bonded with her because he basically raised himself.
 

Sylvie took the defrosted meat out of the fridge and started to pound it with the meat tenderizer. She wanted to concentrate on getting dinner ready but Delphine wanted to talk, even though she knew Sylvie wouldn't answer or even acknowledge her.
 

 "Sylvie, this man is special. Even you would like him."

 Sylvie highly doubted it.

Okay, the meat and vegetables were ready. She swept them from the cutting board into the slow cooker, where she'd already put the seasonings. She did some quick math in her head. If Sylvie didn't eat, there would be enough for the girls and Delphine, and even Etienne if he showed up.

 
  Sylvie had been nauseated for the past two days. Yesterday, she tried eating toast but she barely made it to the toilet before puking violently. That was enough to stop her from eating anything today.
 
Sacré! Could it be morning sickness? She remembered Delphine had a bad case of it with Bèbè. But that was ridiculous, Sylvie hadn't even begun to menstruate. Just because she-no, it was impossible and that was that. It was probably some type of stomach flu. Hopefully the girls wouldn't get sick.
 
  

There. Sylvie turned on the slow cooker and set it for two hours. Then she went to her room and changed into a more casual skirt and blouse. At least Delphine was sober. Let her watch Bèbè for a while. Sylvie needed some time to herself. She walked towards the door.
 
 
"Where are you going?"

Sylvie ignored her and left the house. It was a good two miles to the cemetery but Sylvie had a lot of endurance. She'd made this trip many times. Through the iron gates and down a few rows was her mother's grave.
  
 Marie Claire Augeron: Né: 1938. Mort: 1957.

She didn't even make it to the age of twenty.

 It was a simple resting place, a small headstone with a cross. Beside it was a smaller headstone.
 

Thiery Laurent Augeron. Né: 1957. Mort: 1957. "Cher petit
                 bèbè."

That sweet little child died along with her mother. When she came here, Sylvie could swear she could feel her twin's spirit. The air was colder, more compressed. Perhaps it was that twin's bond, but she sensed him more than she ever did her mère. And she always felt the guilt. Why did she survive and the other two perish? She could imagine what Thiery would have looked like by now. He'd have her blond hair and dark brown eyes, but he'd be taller than she, not as petite. If she shut her eyes and took a deep breath she could almost fill her body with him, all air becoming Thiery.
 
 

 Sylvie closed her eyes and inhaled, taking in her twin. Then she opened them and said, "Thiery, what do I do if I AM pregnant?"
 

The answer was in her head, in her own voice but she could swear it  was him.
 

"You'll die. Just like Mámá."

Death didn't frighten her. Survival did. A child of her age, not even a teenager, and a mother of-Mon Dieu, it was so wrong.
 

Thiery told her, "If it doesn't kill you, kill it. Then kill him."

But it wasn't that simple, especially here. The closest place she could go would be Montréal, and even there the best she could do would be some back alley abortion. Besides, she couldn't just kill something she'd nourished inside her womb.
 
Killing him was another story, she'd wanted to do that for years. But she loved him. More than she loved herself. How could she kill him?
 
 
Sylvie went back home a little after that, filled with a sense of peace she rarely experienced. The girls had gotten home and the timer on the cooker had about thirty minutes. "Therese, Mignnon, help me set the table." They could handle that, and it made them feel good to help their big sister. They knew Sylvie wasn't related to them, but
they called her "sister," not stepsister.
 
    

 Just the smell of the stew made Sylvie want to gag. She usually liked it but tonight the aroma was an assault on her nostrils. When she sat at the table she'd have to remember to only breathe through her mouth.
 
 

After the timer went off, Sylvie flirted with the notion of waiting for Etienne, but that could leave them waiting all night so she decided to call the girls to dinner. If Delphine heard, that was  fine, but she was NOT about to go out of her way for her. She took a ladle and scooped the stew into four bowls. Then she took her place at the table and didn't even pretend to eat.
 

Delphine did hear. She took a forkful then exclaimed, "This is so good. With cooking like this, you'll find yourself a man, au plus sacrant!"
 
 

 Sylvie tried not to cringe at those words. She didn't want to find a man "fucking fast." Only the fact that Delphine meant it as a compliment prevented her from leaving the table. Delphine found lots of men quickly, look where it got her.
 
 

When dinner was finished, the girls helped her clear the table. Delphine didn't lift a finger. Instead, she went to the bathroom, where Sylvie soon heard the shower running. My God, she was going out again! No wonder she was in such good humour.
 
 
As Sylvie predicted, Delphine painted on her face, got into a slinky black dress, with high heels, and was out the door without a word.
 

Sylvie was so tired, she was in no mood to get Bèbè bathed. Bèbè could take a bath by herself, but she tended to daydream and if Sylvie wanted to get her into bed by 7:00 she'd have to start earlier. Well Bèbè just wouldn't have a bath tonight. Mignnon still took baths but Therese was in her "I'm a big girl" phase and took showers.  There was only one bathroom, so Sylvie would usually run the water for Mignnon so it wouldn't be too hot. Then Therese could  take her shower and Sylvie would towel dry her long brown hair. Finally, she'd tuck them in, read a story and turn out the lights. They all went to bed at the same time, though Sylvie knew that wouldn't work with Therese much longer.
 
 
 

Sylvie needed them in bed early because she still had homework to do, plus she had to take her own shower. After that, she'd walk to the laundromat, wash the skirts and blouses, grab them as soon as they were dry, and iron them the moment she got home. By the time she was done, Sylvie was exhausted.
 
  

 Tonight the only thing that deviated from normal was the lack of a bath for Bèbè, but she was still bone tired. It was nearly eleven and she barely had the energy to take off her clothes, hang them up, puton her nightgown and crawl into bed. Like Etienne, she had her own room. If you could call it that. It was really the basement, but her
stepbrother had talked Delphine into letting Sylvie have it so she'd  have a little privacy.
 
  

Sylvie had been thrilled then. A room all to herself! She cleaned out the basement, found a rug.  Etienne helped her fix it up, even brought down a bed and put it together. One plastic etagere and a  small set of dresser drawers and she was set.
 
  

Sylvie pulled the covers up to her chin and shut her eyes, letting blessed sleep claim her body.
 

The next day, when she got home with Bèbè, Delphine was there waiting for them. Again. Sylvie hadn't seen the woman since she left last night in such a hurry. Maybe this new boyfriend was something special after all. Sylvie assessed Delphine closely, noting the scarf around her neck, the lilac sweater and black t-length skirt. She actually
 looked like a lady.
 
 
 
 
 

Oh yes, very special indeed. Or at least Delphine thought so.