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CHAPTER 18: SISTERS
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 16:03:11 +0000 UTC70 years ago…
In a dimly lit room, a 10-year-old girl sleeps soundly. The peace is interrupted when a young woman enters, briskly pulling the curtains open. Sunlight pours into the room, casting away the shadows and rousing the girl from her slumber. She groans in protest.
—“Good morning in the mornings,” sis! —chirps the woman, a bright-eyed 15-year-old Milagros.
—Mmm… *yawns* “Good mornings in the mornings,” sis —mumbles the younger girl, rubbing her eyes.
—Come on, Bertha! We’ve got to head to the market. We’re all out of spearmint and ginger, and we need it for the cold medicine.
Little Bertha throws an irritated glance her sister’s way as she sluggishly sits up.
—Why don’t you just go by yourself? I’m sure you could charm your way into getting even more herbs with just a smile.
—Oh, come on, don’t be like that! You know how awkward I feel walking through town on my own.
—Awkward? Please. Feeling uncomfortable because people love you and think you’re amazing? What a tragedy.
—Pretty please? —Milagros clasps her hands together dramatically, her eyes wide with exaggerated pleading.
Bertha sighs in defeat.
—… Fine.
—Yay! Thanks, sis! Now hurry up; breakfast is ready.
Milagros skips out of the room, leaving her little sister alone. Bertha watches her go, her expression softening.
—… Silly sister —she whispers. Her voice tings with a sadness that belies her earlier annoyance.
CHAPTER 18
SISTERS
Milagros and Bertha lived in a small, cozy cottage on the outskirts of Harmony Town. Their home, though humble, was a sanctuary surrounded by wild herbs and towering trees, a reflection of their work as town shamans and healers. Along with their mother, the two sisters provided care to anyone in need, whether they were Purists or Benefactors.
The town, however, was far from peaceful. A brutal civil war raged between the Purists and the Benefactors, tearing the community apart. Despite being redbone Purists themselves, Milagros’ family earned the respect of both sides for their neutrality and unwavering dedication to healing. Their father had been a casualty of this war five years ago, killed by Purist extremists during a particularly violent uprising. It was a wound that still lingered in their hearts, but it had only strengthened their resolve to help those in need.
As the morning sun spills through the windows of the small kitchen, Milagros and Bertha step in to find their mother already setting the table. The aroma of fresh arepas and coffee fill the room, offering a moment of comfort among the chaos of the outside world.
—Good morning, mijas —their mother greets.
Milagros pulled out a chair, plopping down with an exaggerated sigh.
—Morning, Mom. Bertha was being grumpy again.
—Was not! —Bertha shoots back, slightly puffing her cheeks in protest.
Their mother chuckles softly, shaking her head as she places plates in front of them.
—Now, now. No bickering before breakfast. You two have to head to the market soon, and I need you in good spirits. The cold season is coming, and we’ll need to stock up on herbs.
Bertha and Milagros exchange a glance.
—Yes, ma’am —they say in unison.
Their mother smiles, her gaze lingering on them for a moment longer, as if savoring the fleeting moment of peace before the demands of the day pulls them back into the harsh reality of Harmony Town.
—Also, don’t forget that today we have to purify Mrs. Flor’s farm. Apparently, some people gave her an evil eye, and now her crops are dying.
—Yes, ma’am.
—Milagros, you did a great job last time. But Bertha, I need you to focus more. You’re still too green with the purifying spells. Remember, I won’t be in this world forever, and you two must carry on the shaman work.
—Mila always gets praised, and I get the scolding. Big shocker.
—Don’t start again, Bertha.
—sighs I’m sorry, Mom. And… sorry to you too, sis Mila.
—Hey, don’t sweat it, sis. Mom was just as strict with me when I started shamanism.
—Hurry up, mijas. The market will be open soon.
—Yes, ma’am.
The girls finish their breakfast and head to Harmony Town’s market. During their walk, they fill the time with their usual sisterly banter.
—So, Bertha, you’re 10 now, and pretty cute to boot. Tell me, have you already found a charming boy to be your boyfriend? —says Milagros with a mischievous grin.
Bertha’s face turns crimson.
—D-don’t be silly, sis Mila! You know I’m only interested in helping Mom with healing and shamanism.
—Aww, what a loss to all the men in the world.
—Besides… I’m not as cute as you are. No woman can match your unique look. Gods know the whole town has already fallen for your charm.
Milagros stops abruptly, kneels down, and looks Bertha directly in the eyes.
—Don’t ever do that again, sis. Don’t compare yourself to me, or anyone else. You are you, and you are an incredible “you”, if I say so myself.
—I have no idea what you just said.
—When you compare yourself to others, you miss out on how amazing you already are, Bertha. You don’t need creepy weird hair or eye colors as mines to stand out. What matters is what you do with your life.
Bertha’s lips curl into a small, shy smile at her sister’s words.
—Although… —Milagros smirks —You’ll never be as fast as me. Hehehe.
Without warning, Milagros dashes off ahead.
—Hey, no fair, sis Mila! —Bertha shouts, running after her sister.
After a while, the sisters arrive at the market. Despite the violent times the town is enduring, the market is alive with energy and bustling activity. As soon as they step into the crowd, the clerks immediately begin flirting with Milagros.
—Good morning, Milagros. Today we have big discounts on the fish.
—Thank you. I may come back later —replies the girl with a warm smile.
—Hey, Milagros! Take these peaches with you. I saved the best just for you —says the fruit seller.
—Thanks, Mr. Luis, but that wouldn’t be fair to the other clients —answers the young woman with a kind yet slightly tired expression.
It’s clear Milagros deals with this situation daily. Though she maintains her bright, optimistic demeanor, being the constant center of attention is something she quietly struggles with. Meanwhile, Bertha is equally weary of the situation, but for the opposite reason. Living in her sister’s shadow has bred deep insecurities in her, despite being just as capable and charming in her own right.
Annoyed once again by Milagros’ unwavering popularity, Bertha drifts away to explore the market on her own. As she wanders, her attention is drawn to an unusual device and the eccentric man operating it.
—C’mon, c’mon, everyone! Feast your eyes on this incredible invention from the foreign lands! Behold: the “Photography Machine”! —shouts the energetic man, gesturing dramatically toward the strange device. The crowd, preoccupied with their shopping, largely ignores him, but the machine captures little Bertha’s curiosity.
—“Photography Machine”? What’s that? —asks the girl as her eyes wide with intrigue.
—Ah, my dear child, this is the latest sensation from the foreign lands! It can trap a special moment of your life onto a piece of paper for centuries—no, millennia! —the man proclaims with a tone full of flair and exaggeration.
He opens a portfolio, proudly displaying a collection of photographs: families posed stiffly, a majestic mountain glowing under the sun, a dog caught mid-leap, and couples gazing lovingly at each other. Bertha stares at the images in awe, enchanted by the concept of preserving fleeting moments forever.
—Wow! —gasps the amazed girl —These paintings look so real!
—It’s because they’re not paintings, my dear! They’re real pictures, captured through the magic of science! —exclaimed the man —Here, let me show you. Stand right in front of the Photography Machine and look directly into the little round glass in the middle.
Bertha follows his instructions, positioning herself carefully in front of the camera. The quick flash and puff of powder startles her, and the man snapped her picture.
*Author’s note: Now, I have NO idea if old cameras could get a picture that fast, but hey, it’s a fictional story so bear with me, would you?
Back to the story*
The man shows Bertha her picture, which absolutely amazes her.
—Wow! That’s incredible! —she exclaims with her eyes wide with amazement.
—Right? As I told you, this is the magic of science!
—Can I have the picture?
—Sorry, my dear. This one’s for the demo portfolio. But, for just two cents, I can take another one just for you.
—Y-yes, please! —she enthusiastically shouts, quickly fishing two coins from her pocket and placing them in his hand.
—Marvelous! Now, while I prepare the machine again, feel free to dig in that box. I’ve got hats, glasses, wigs—plenty of options if you’d like to add a unique touch.
Bertha’s eyes lit up as she searches through the box. She giggles at the assortment of funny glasses, fake noses, and whimsical hats. But then, something catches her attention: a blonde wig. She stares at it for a moment before picking it up and carefully placing it on her head.
—There, I’m ready!
—Wonderful! Just give me a moment to set up the machine.
While he adjusts the contraption, Bertha catches a sight of herself in a nearby mirror. She pauses, captivated by her reflection. The blonde hair transformed her appearance entirely. A shy smile crept across her face as she begins combing the wig with her fingers, pretending it was her real hair. For a brief, blissful moment, she is lost in her daydream.
But a gentle voice breaks through her contemplation.
—Sis? Is that you?
Milagros looks at her sister’s new appearance with awe and curiosity.
—It is you! Aww, you look so cute! Now we look like twins!
—Oh, hi, sis Mila. Done with your walk of fame?
—What are you doing? Oh, you’re going to take a picture! So cool! Some friends told me about this weird machine!
—All ready! —said the man.
—Aww, please, please, Bertha, let me be in the picture too!
—… Sure, sis. No problem.
—Yay, thanks!
Milagros hugs her sister, and the man takes the picture. After a few minutes, he handed them the photography.
—Oh, sis. Why the long face? You should had laugh.
—It doesn’t matter, sis Mila. C’mon now. We have to buy those herbs.
On their way to the herb stand, the girls cross paths with another person. But this man is different. His mere presence causes unease among the people, and Milagros and Bertha are no exception.
—Good morning, beautiful Milagros.
—... G-good morning, Mr. Vela —said Milagros hesitantly.
—… G-good morning, Mr. Vela —added Bertha, trying to steady her voice.
The man ignores Bertha and focuses entirely on her sister.
—Please, I told you before. Just call me Alberto.
—… Mr. Alberto.
—That’s better. Now tell me, my dear Milagros, have you thought about my offer to become our personal healer? You know my wife just gave birth to our first son, Antonio, and she… I… would love to have you at our house taking care of them. —His hand moves to touch her face in a way that feels invasive and unsettling.
—… Thank you, Mr. Alberto, but I’ve already told you. My family and I will not limit our services to a few people. Harmony Town deserves our help as a whole.
—If your wife or baby needs our services, we’ll gladly help you at our home —adds Bertha with quiet determination.
—Know your place, kid. I’m talking to your sister. I didn’t ask for your opinion.
—…
—mumbling don’t speak to my little sis like that.
—Huh? What’s that?
—I said don’t speak to my little sis like that!... Mr. Vela.
The man chuckles, obviously not taking seriously Milagros’ warning.
—Hehe… Very well, Milagros. I apologize, child.
Bertha doesn’t answer…
—Anyway, I’m not forcing you. As long as I can continue admiring your beautiful face, I don’t mind stopping by your… “humble” home once in a while, my dear Milagros. Have a nice day.
Alberto Vela continues on his way, his presence leaving an oppressive air behind him.
—Motherf… —Milagros quickly interrupts Bertha.
—Hush, Bertha. He could hear you.
—Yes, sis. I’m sorry.
The girls continue on their way and eventually arrive at the herb stand, where a young man is working.
—Hey, Milagros and Bertha! Good to see you two!
—Good morning, Octavio —Milagros replies kindly.
—H-Hey, Octavio —Bertha stutters shyly.
—Wow, look at you, Bertha. You’re growing up so fast! Soon you’ll be a beautiful lady just like your sister.
—C-C’mon now —Bertha said, nervously twirling her hair.
—What can I do for sumercé?
—We need some spearmint and ginger, please.
—Sure thing! I’ll be back in a minute.
As Octavio leaves to gather the herbs and ginger, Milagros turns to Bertha.
—Sis, your face is bright red. Are you okay?
—S-Shut up, sis Mila!
Milagros chuckles as Octavio returns with their order. The sisters thank him, pay, and return home with their herbs.
And so, days passed, and despite the constant turmoil in Harmony Town, the girls lived happily alongside their mother. They continued to train as healers and shamans. Bertha, who worked tirelessly, eventually surpassed Milagros in skill, both as a healer and a shaman, even learning powerful combat white magic spells. Filled with pride and eager to show her mother her progress, she prepared for the moment to reveal her accomplishments.
However, life in Harmony Town was cruel. Before Bertha could share her achievements, their mother fell gravely ill. Despite their best efforts, neither Milagros nor Bertha could save her. The loss left the sisters heartbroken.
Milagros and Bertha were now alone, but they leaned on each other for comfort. They carried on their family business, earning the trust of the townsfolk despite their young age. Whether it was healing the sick, battling evil spirits, or confronting strange magic, Harmony Town knew it could rely on the sisters.
65 years ago…
Milagros is now 20 years old, and Bertha 15. In the years since their mother’s passing, both girls have become renowned healers and powerful shamans. Octavio, who had once sold them herbs, had grown closer to the family. He eventually began a relationship with Milagros, much to Bertha’s quiet dismay.
Though the sisters still loved each other, Bertha’s bitterness grew. Losing the man she secretly liked to her older sister deepened her insecurities.
One morning, Bertha was harvesting herbs in the forest near their house when Octavio appeared.
—Hey, Bertha, “good morning in the mornings”, as your sister says.
—G-Good morning, Octavio. How are sumercé?
—Feeling fine. Hey, are you okay? Your face is as red as a tomato, and you’re stuttering again.
—Oh? N-No, I’m fine! Just… you know, collecting some flowers.
—Hey, those are some funny-looking flowers you got there. What are those for? More medicine?
—Huh? Oh, these? … No. I just use them as catalysts. But if you eat too much of them, they can make your eyes and nose bleed. They’re not dangerous, but you could use them to fool your boss into thinking you’re sick and take a few days off work.
—Hehehe, unless your bosses are Benefactors. They’d probably work you harder before you drop dead.
The little chat with Octavio brings joy to Bertha an she continues talking about the different flowers and plants she has collected. Maybe bragging a little about her knowledge could get more interest from him.
—Oh! Y-You see this flower? Mother used to say that, if you use it right, you can produce a potion that allows to make astral projections.
—Astra projection? What’s that?
—It’s like leaving your soul while y-your body still sleeps.
—That sounds creepy.
—Hehe, maybe so, but it could allow you to do your chores or even spy on people while your body still rests.
—Cool!
—Oh! A-And this is my biggest invention yet! —Bertha takes a bottle from her bag with a yellow powder —I use it for exorcizing. It creates a powerful gravity field that that sticks a dark entity to the ground, leaving you chance to exorcise it.
—Wow, that sounds really handy!
—Yeah! The only problem is that it takes a while to activate its effect, leaving you open to receive an attack. B-But hey! I created it, huh? Nervous chuckles
—You are amazing, little one. You know that?
Bertha’s face turns bright red, once more.
—S-Shut up, Octavio.
—Hehehe, ok. Say, is your sister home?
Bertha’s happy moment just fades away…
—Oh… Y-Yeah.
—Hey, can you keep a secret?
—S-Sure! What is it?
Octavio steps closer to Bertha, making her face turn as red and bright as a candle.
—W-W-What are you doing?!
—Here, take a look.
Octavio reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. From it, he reveals a delicate yet beautiful ring. Bertha’s shy, happy expression, once again, is instantly replaced with one of disappointment.
—Whispering I’m finally asking your sister to marry me today.
—Oh… that’s… that’s great, Octavio! —Bertha says with a forced smile.
—Yeah! You’ll stop being like my little sister and officially become my sister-in-law. But since you’re the only family Milagros has, I’d love for you to give us your blessing.
Bertha struggles to maintain her composure; her voice threatens to crack. Despite loving her sister deeply and wanting her happiness, she couldn’t ignore the pain in her chest. Once again, Milagros had surpassed her—this time by winning the heart of the man she loves.
—Octavio… you don’t need my approval. The gods and I both know what a good person you are. I’m sure you’ll be the best husband in the world.
—Oh, thanks, Bertha!
Octavio pulls her into a big hug. Normally, such a gesture would have made Bertha giddy with joy, but this time, it feels like the embrace is crushing her entire body—starting with her heart.
—Sis Mila is at home right now. She’s making lunch.
—Good! I’ll head over now.
Octavio quickly walks away, leaving Bertha behind, utterly heartbroken. As soon as he disappears from view, she falls to her knees and begin crying her heart out.
That night, Octavio proposes to Milagros under the soft glow of the lanterns, and without hesitation, she said yes. Not long after, the two got married in a modest ceremony and Octavio moved into the sisters’ cottage. For a time, the three lived happily together, their home filled with laughter and warmth. However, as Bertha watched her sister and Octavio grow closer with each passing day, her heart began to twist with bitterness, resentment, and envy. Though she tried to hide it, seeing Milagros that happy planted seeds of hatred deep within her. Milagros, ever loving and patient, continued to treat Bertha with kindness and affection, oblivious to the storm brewing in her sister’s heart. Bertha, however, kept her growing hatred locked away, suffocating under the weight of her own unspoken pain.
60 years ago…
Time has passed. Milagros is now 25, and Bertha is 20. Bertha has managed to keep her dark feelings in check—until today. A few simple words from Milagros are about to change everything.
—I’m pregnant! —Milagros exclaims, her face glowing with joy.
—Wh-what?! —Bertha stammers. Confusion flashes across her face.
—Yay!!
Milagros pulls Bertha into a tight hug, but Bertha can barely muster the strength to fake a smile.
—Does Octavio know?
Nope, not yet. He’s still out of town. But as soon as he gets back, I’ll tell him. Look— she gestures toward a small wooden crib. I’m planning to surprise him with this! A client brought it this morning.
Bertha stares at the crib, her expression hard to read.
— No offense, Milagros, but how are you planning to raise a child? Business has been slow, and Octavio’s work barely keeps us afloat.
—We’ll manage, sis. The gods have been kind to us so far, and I trust they’ll continue to provide.
—I doubt it. Have you looked around? Harmony Town is falling apart.
—Come on, Bertha. We’ll be okay.
Bertha’s voice takes on a sharper tone.
—Why don’t you consider Alberto Vela’s offer? His wife just had twins, and their oldest boy is already ten. If you worked as their nanny, you’d earn decent money.
—Don’t bring him up, Bertha. You know how awful he is. Being a Benefactor is bad enough, but he’s a horrible man. I want nothing to do with him.
—Oh, I see. So now you’re too good for a job, huh? That smile of yours won’t pay the bills, Milagros.
Milagros looks at her sister. Hurt is evident in her eyes.
—That was rude, Bertha.
—I’m not being rude, I’m being realistic! —Bertha snaps —Helping people is all well and good, but we’re struggling, Milagros! Everyone expects us to heal them, but what do they give us in return? Nothing! At least the Velas would pay us!
—Enough, Bertha. Please stop.
—I would take the job myself if I could, but Alberto only has eyes for you! It’s always you. I’m just a filthy Purist peasant to him.
—Bertha, that’s enough!
Milagros raises her voice but Bertha’s anger boils over.
—No, I won’t stop! Or what? Are you going to keep smiling and being “perfect” while Octavio works himself to death for us? You’re selfish, Milagros. A selfish, horrible person. I’m glad our parents aren’t alive to see what you’ve become!
Milagros freezes, stunned by the cruelty of Bertha’s words. Her hand moves almost instinctively, and she slaps Bertha across the face.
—Bertha, I— I’m so sorry!
Bertha glares at her, her eyes filled with tears and fury.
—I hate you, Milagros!
She runs off, leaving Milagros standing there, heartbroken and confused.
Bertha runs for minutes. She runs and runs and she doesn’t stop running until she finds herself in the town park. Her heart pounds with rage and grief, her mind is spinning. She collapses onto a bench and begins to cry.
—Look, Dad. That peasant woman is crying, —a boy’s mocking voice cuts through her sobs.
—Leave her alone, Antonio. We have no business with low-class people —comes the cold reply.
Bertha glances up to see Alberto Vela walking with his son, Antonio, flanked by two burly bodyguards.
—Wait a minute. You’re Milagros’ sister, —Alberto says.
—Bertha, —she mutters.
—I didn’t ask for your name. Where’s your sister? It’s a shame such a fine woman ended up with that bum.
Bertha’s anger flares, but instead of lashing out, a sinister idea creeps into her mind. Her lips curl into a wicked grin as she speaks.
—Yeah, maybe so. We’re barely scraping by these days, Mr. Vela. But... I heard your wife just had twins. Is that true?
—Yes, peasant. Iván and Francisco, —Antonio pipes up with a pompous air.
—Why do you care? —Alberto asks, suspicious.
—Well, my sister’s finally considering your offer to work as a nanny, —Bertha says with false sweetness.
—Is that so?
—You can ask her yourself. She’s home right now. Alone.
Alberto smirks.
—Then perhaps I’ll pay her a visit. You two— he gestures to his bodyguards —take Antonio home. I have some business to attend to.
—Yes, sir! —the men reply, escorting the boy away.
As they disappear, Alberto tips his hat to Bertha.
—Thank you for the information.
—My pleasure, sir. —she replies. Her voice is calm but her mind is racing with dark satisfaction.
Alone in the park once more, Bertha leans back on the bench, a bitter smile spreading across her face. In her twisted logic, she convinces herself that Milagros being alone with Alberto might lead to something more—a way for her sister to secure a better life. And if Milagros turned to Alberto, perhaps that would free Octavio from her grasp, giving Bertha the chance she’d longed for.
Bertha’s mind is racing with dark and vengeful ideas. She plays out countless scenarios, each more sinister than the last. For nearly an hour, she remains there, consumed by her hatred and bitterness. But as the evening chill crept in and the sounds of the town fades, a sharp pang of guilt strikes her heart. She gasps. Her eyes wide as the weight of what she had done finally hit her.
—What have I done? —she whispers, clutching her chest.
Her mind reels at the thought of Alberto showing up at the house, of her innocent sister unknowingly opening the door to that vile man.
—No, no, no!... —she yells, standing abruptly —. I have to stop this!
Without a second thought, Bertha begins sprinting back toward home, desperate to undo her mistake.
Meanwhile, at the sisters’ cabin, a loud knock echoes through the quiet interior. Milagros, humming softly as she folds clothes in the main room, stops in her tracks. She glances toward the door, her cheerful mood wavers at the unexpected sound.
—Who could that be? Sis, is that you?
She approaches the door, wiping her hands on her dress. When she opens it, her heart sinks. Standing before her is Alberto Vela. A smug grin plasters across his face.
—Good evening, Milagros, —he says. His voice is smooth but dripping with menace.
Milagros’ throat tightens, but she forces a polite smile.
—Mr. Vela... what brings you here?
Alberto steps closer. His presence is suffocating.
—I wanted to discuss my job offer —he says casually —. Your sister told me you were finally considering it.
Milagros’ eyes widened in shock.
—That’s not true —she says firmly, though her voice trembles —. I’m sorry, but I have no intention of accepting your offer. Please leave.
Alberto’s smile falters.
—Now, now, don’t be so hasty. You’ve had plenty of time to think it over.
—I’ve already made up my mind, Mr. Vela. Good night.
Milagros attempts to close the door, but Alberto slams his hand against it, forcing it open with brutal strength. The sudden movement sends Milagros sprawling onto the floor.
—Enough with the games, woman! —he roars, stepping inside.
Milagros scrambles backward, her heart is pounding in terror. Alberto reaches into his coat and pulls out a machete.
—If you won’t be mine willingly, —he snarls, his voice dripping with malice— then you’ll be mine by force.
Milagros’ eyes fill with tears as she crawls away. Her mind is racing for a way out.
At that very moment, not far from the cabin, Octavio appears on the dirt path leading home. He carries a small bundle of supplies over his shoulder. His steps are tired but determined. He smiles faintly as the familiar sight of the cabin comes into view, eager to reunite with his beloved Milagros and her sister.
Unbeknownst to him, inside those walls, the love of his life is facing a nightmare.
TO BE CONTINUED…
