Chapter 3: The Truth Unveiled

I studied late into the night, flashlight tucked under my pillow, heart pounding with hope. Maybe this time, things would be different. For the first time, I let myself dream of a life beyond Hailey, beyond the endless cycle of blame.

When the results came out, I checked my score with Mrs. Patterson’s phone—709, 60 points above last year’s cut-off for Silver Hollow High School.

My hands shook as I dialed the number, Mrs. Patterson standing beside me, her smile wide and proud. When I saw the score, I nearly dropped the phone. For the first time, I felt like maybe I could be free.

I asked my mother if she could go with me to fill out the application. Not that I wanted to ask her, but the teacher required a parent to accompany us, or they wouldn’t give us the application form.

I waited. She didn’t even look up. I stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching the crumpled notice, my voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t even look up from her phone, scrolling through Facebook, her lips pursed in annoyance.

I asked her twice in the morning, she acted like she didn’t hear. The third time in the afternoon, she suddenly slapped my head.

I saw stars. The slap came out of nowhere, sharp and humiliating. My ears rang. She glared at me, eyes narrowed.

"Application, application, nagging me all day, who said you could go to high school?"

Her voice was cold, final. I felt the hope drain out of me, replaced by a familiar ache.

I was indignant and asked why Hailey could go to high school and even have a $30-an-hour tutor, but I couldn’t?

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My voice shook, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I wanted to know why I was always the one left behind.

My mother grabbed my hair and yelled, "How can you compare to Hailey? All of that is what Hailey deserves. But you caused Hailey to lose her father and her mother to remarry, you owe Hailey. You were born to make it up to her, not to go to school and enjoy yourself!"

Her grip tightened, yanking my head back. The words were a whip, each one leaving a mark. I didn’t cry. I bit my lip, refusing to cry.

Again, I owed Hailey, again, I had to atone for her!

Her words echoed in my head, bouncing around until I wanted to scream. I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to scream.

As she yelled, I thought of my classmates’ mothers helping them carry their schoolbags, waiting at the school gate to bring them lunch, picking them up after school. Their mothers were so gentle and loving. Why was my mother like this to me?

I remembered the way my friend Riley’s mom hugged her, the way she tucked a note into her lunchbox every day. I wondered what it would feel like to be loved like that, even just once.

Maybe it was teenage rebellion, maybe life had been too hard, but I couldn’t help but question her.

The words tumbled out, raw and angry. For once, I didn’t care about the consequences. I was done.

"Do you know that the tutor Hailey hired isn’t a real teacher, but her boyfriend from school? They’re both tricking you for your money! Why would you rather give money to two liars than let me study? Even if I owe Hailey, do I owe you? Aren’t you my mother? Why are you nothing like other mothers? Are you really my mother, or Hailey’s mother?"

My voice cracked, but I forced myself to meet her eyes. I wanted her to see how much she’d hurt me.

My mother’s face turned red at my words, and Hailey quickly explained, "Auntie, don’t listen to Quinn, she’s making things up. She tried to seduce my teacher, but he ignored her, so she’s framing..."

Hailey’s voice was high and shrill, her words tumbling over each other in her hurry to defend herself. I could see the panic in her eyes.

But before she finished, my mother slapped her.

The slap was meant for me, but Hailey flinched, eyes wide with shock. My mother’s anger was a wildfire, burning everything in its path.

"How dare you! Who taught you to talk to your mother like that!"

She spun back to me, her fury undiminished. I braced myself for the next blow.

Of course, my mother wasn’t hitting Hailey—she was hitting me. She slapped my head, but still wasn’t satisfied. This time, I seemed to have really angered her, so she grabbed a broom.

The broom was always leaning against the kitchen wall, a silent threat. I tried to back away, but Hailey blocked the door, her eyes glittering with malice.

"You go to school just to learn how to talk back to me? Do I owe you? If you hadn’t been greedy and caused Hailey’s dad’s death, would I be gossiped about? Even now your grandparents won’t let me in the door, all because of you, you jinx! I was fine being married, your dad was good to me, but you, this debt collector, made us divorce! Made it so no one wants to marry me! You ruined me, why should I be good to you? Do I owe you?"

Her words spilled out, ugly and raw. I shrank back, pressing myself against the wall, wishing I could disappear. I wanted to disappear.

When I saw the broom, I instinctively ran, but Hailey blocked the door. She and my mother teamed up, and soon, even though Hailey was malnourished, she managed to hold me down while my mother hit my head with the broom over and over.

I curled up on the floor, arms over my head, the blows raining down. The pain was blinding, my ears ringing. I tasted blood. I could taste blood in my mouth, metallic and sharp.

"You dare run... I’ll teach you..."

"If I don’t beat you to death today..."

"Jinx..."

"Having you was the worst luck in eight lifetimes..."

Her voice was a storm, battering me from all sides. I shut my eyes tight, waiting for it to be over.

My mother’s twisted face kept shaking, and the sounds in my ears grew more and more chaotic. In the darkness, I seemed to hear Hailey’s frightened voice.

Hailey’s voice was distant, muffled, like she was underwater. I could barely make out the words, but the fear in her tone was unmistakable.

"Auntie... she’s bleeding..."

The room spun, colors blurring at the edges. I felt myself slipping away, the pain receding into a dull throb.

When I opened my eyes, my mother was slapping my face, her greasy face looking nervous. But as soon as she saw me, I instinctively shrank back in fear. Her hand paused in midair, then her face quickly changed from nervousness to anger.

Her eyes flickered with something like guilt, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Then it was gone. She yanked me upright, her grip bruising.

"Why are you pretending to be dead! Get up!"

Her words were harsh, but there was a tremor in her voice. I didn’t move, too afraid to speak.