Chapter 2: A spoilt child

Elisa looked up at her ceiling, then at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was eight a.m. in the morning. No wonder her mother's been shouting for her; she overslept!

She sighed, then proceeded to get up from bed. She was still tired from last night's event and wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, but she knew her mother would simply come up to the room and throw off her covers if she did. Best to just get up for the day. 

"Elisa!" 

"I'm awake, OK! I'll be down in a few minutes!" She yelled back at her mother after opening her door, closing it almost immediately after she was done yelling.

She let out a frustrated sigh, then turned and walked to a dresser on the other side of her room. As she reached for her hairbrush, she looked at the bedraggled girl clad in striped dark blue pajamas, who stared back at her from the mirror on the dresser as she combed her hair. Looking at her reflection, she could see the effects of last night's party on her tired face and dishevelled hair; then again, it may just be the lingering effects of waking up.

Once she was done with her hair, she put down the hairbrush, grabbed a towel and a red dress, left her room and went straight to the bathroom to freshen up.

After ten minutes, she came out while drying her hair with her towel, feeling more awake and energetic after taking a shower, wearing a long flowery red dress with short sleeves and a square neckline.

After drying her hair and putting her towel away, she went across the landing and down the stairs, heading towards the dining room. As she entered the room through an open doorway, her mother, a beautiful woman strongly resembling her daughter, with the same hair and face, walked in from the kitchen, which was directly connected to the dining room, and greeted her. "Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well. Eat up, your food is getting cold."

Elisa only nodded in response, making an annoyed grunt. She down and began to eat her breakfast (two sandwiches, one scrambled egg and the other jam, and a glass of milk). "Ugh! Couldn't you have made something else. The scrambled egg tastes awful!" She grumbled as she ate. Her mother turned around at that comment, clearly irritated. "That's what happens when you come down to breakfast thirty minutes late! Speaking of which, why did you oversleep? What were you doing last night, after your grandparents brought you home?" "Nothing." Elisa replied, but a sly look passed in her eyes for a moment, and that was what gave away the fact that she was lying. Her mother sighed, then left the dining room, saying, "Alright then. I'll just have to call grandma and grandpa instead." As she reached the doorway, Elisa stood up from her seat, upsetting her milk all over the table. "Don't you dare!" She said, almost yelling. As her mother turned to look at her, she quickly collected herself and said, "I already told you, I didn't do anything last night. Grandma and grandpa brought me back home at nine, and I went straight to bed. That's it!"

Her mother replied, "If that's the case, then there's no reason for you to be so upset about me calling grandma and grandpa. I'll just call them now, and hear their side of the story." As she reached into her left pocket, she continued, "Of course, if there's anything else you'd like to tell, anything that would stop this call, now's your chance."

Elisa simply glared at her mother, anger written all over her pretty face, making her look a bit wild. She tried to think of something to say, but couldn't find anything. She curled her hands into tight fists, looking as though she was about to fight her mother as she dialed in her phone. However, as she lifted her phone to her ear Elisa let out a big breath. Regaing her composure, she simply lifted her left hand to her hair, then tossed it upwards, a sign of no concern. "Fine, then" She said, "Call them. I don't care. All you're going to find out is that I was telling the TRUTH! And when you're done and want to say sorry to me, I won't forgive you!" With that, she stormed out of the dining room, leaving behind her hurt mother and her half-finished breakfast. She went straight to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her as she entered.

As she sat on her bed to read an old book she was fond of, there came a series of taps on her door which was followed by a single knock. Ignoring the person on the other side, she went back to reading her book, slowly getting immersed into the story. After two minutes, however, the person on the other side of her door began tapping again, ending it with a single knock. When they were ignored again, the process was repeated.

After two more tries, Elisa finally opened the door, yelling "WHAT!!". She glared at the cheeky looking young boy standing before her while he smiled back innocently. He was fair-skinned, had messy auburn hair, a button nose and red eyes that shone like hers. He wore a checked button up shirt and brown trousers.

Harry O'Sullivan looked up and grinned at his elder sister, holding out his right hand. "Hey, sis." he said. "You still owe me that thing. You remember. The thing we talked about. The very important..." "Shush!" Elisa fiercely whispered. She looked up and down the corridor before turning back to her brother. "Yeah, I remember. I don't have it yet, okay. I'll get tomorrow." She whispered gruffly. "Now go away and leave me alone. I'm busy."

"But you promised you would give it to me today! You know you did!" His voice was slowly but surely transforming into a whine. Elisa knew it was fake, something he put on just for her! It was always so infuriating! 

"You're a big liar! You're always lying! I should tell mum abou..." "Don't you DARE TELL HER!" She nearly shouted, "Unless you have a death wish, you'll keep your mouth shut! Understand!!" She finished that last word with finger pointing at her brother's face, a warning to him about the consequences of crossing her.

"Hey kids! What's going on up there? You better not be fighting!" 

Both children snapped their heads towards the stairs, where they could her their mother's voice and footsteps. Turning back to her brother, Elisa whispered fiercely, "Listen up, Harry. Don't say ANYTHING about the party last night to mum! I'm not getting into trouble, now or ever! Do you UNDERSTAND?" Looking at the fierce expression on his sister's face, he reluctantly nodded. He knew all too well what his sister would do to him if he tried crossing her. Telling their mother about the party Elisa attended last night would only spell pain and torment for him, and joy for her, since she never got in trouble, thanks to their grandparents. 

So when their mother appeared on the landing, asking "What is going on?", he replied saying "I was just asking Elisa if she'd seen my toy soldiers." all the while maintaining his smile and composure. However, unbeknownst to him, his mother could see the fear in his eyes, and knew when he was lying. She also knew of the strained relationship her children had at the moment, so she tred carefully with her questions.

"Really? Then why did I hear shouting coming from up here?" She asked, crossing her arms. 

There was a brief silence before Elisa stepped out from her room and said, "That was me. Although, it was completely justified, because Harry wouldn't stop knocking on my door!". "Hey!" said Harry, "It's not my fault you ignored me for ten minutes!". "It was eight minutes you dolt!" Elisa shot back, "Eight minutes of nonstop knocking." "It wasn't nonstop! I waited for two minutes everytime I knocked! I even counted to make sure!"

"Alright, enough! Stop shouting the both of you." Mrs O'Sullivan said, suddenly looking a bit tired. Rubbing her temple with two fingers to calm herself, she said, "You two shouldn't be fighting over something like this. It's silly and will bring nothing good for either of you. Now, apologise to each other and make up." 

The siblings looked at each other with contempt, tensed up as if they were ready to fight. Neither of them wanted to apologise to the other. But at the same time, neither of them wanted to face their mother's wrath; especially Elisa, despite how much she pretended she didn't care. She would be dealt something horrible, and what's worse, Harry would be punished less. It wasn't fair! 

Harry, on the other hand, had completely different reasons for not wanting to be punished; he didn't want to disappoint his mother. She always had his back whenever he got into trouble (which was mostly caused by Elisa). Whenever he felt down, she would always be the one to lift his spirits. All he wanted to do in return was to make things easy for her, unlike his elder sister. 

It was no surprise that Harry was the first to extend his hand and apologise. It took Elisa a few seconds to do the same. After that, the siblings parted ways, Harry going back to his room across the landing and Elisa entering her room and closing the door.

No sooner did the door close when Mrs O'Sullivan opened it again. She looked at her fuming daughter before saying, "One more thing Elisa. I need you deliver those dishes the Rogers lent us yesterday." Elisa stared at her mother as though she could not believe what she was hearing, before replying, "Why me? It's too much work for somone who just woke up. Just send Harry." Mrs O'Sullivan frowned at that. "Harry is only nine years old. Plus, he's scared of the Rogers family, remember? You are three years older than him AND have no problems with them. It has to be you. I can't go since I'm busy." "I'm not twelve yet." Elisa muttered under her breath. She wanted to argue, she really did, but she was already tired from the last argument, as well as a lack of sleep. In the end, she agreed to do it. Her mother left, and she closed the door before going back to bed and continuing her reading. 

This is the life of Elisa O'Sullivan, an eleven year old girl of average height and a slender frame, with short black hair that reached just past her chin, pale skin, and ruby-red eyes. 

Born to an Irish father who disappeared four years ago, and an English mother who is gentle and kind, yet strict and firm. She speaks with a mixed accent, which she describes as three parts British and one part Irish to anyone who is willing to listen (which is mostly no-one). Her younger brother also speaks with a mixed accent, although his was described as half-and-half. 

Having been spoilt by her doting grandparents, she has grown to become a loud, boisterous, immature child who constantly plays pranks, is downright rude, and always wants her own way. Her personality is a sharp contrast to her seemingly delicate appearance. And no matter what kind of trouble she causes, she almost always gets away with it, thanks to her silly grandparents.