They Ate Me Alive, But I Was Their Lifeline

It didn't take long for my parents to receive my teacher's report that I'd skipped the first day of class.

I stumbled through the door, my palms and knees raw from falling in the dirt, my clothes torn and streaked with mud.

I tried to sneak past them, but Dad was already sitting on the couch. His arms crossed, and a heavy frown was on his face.

"Why did you skip class?" His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it.

I opened my mouth. I was prepared to explain everything. But before I could get a single word out, Charlie jumped in, grinning like he'd been waiting for this moment.

"Oh, she's just mad 'cause everyone likes Ginny more," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face.

He stuck his tongue out at me like he always did when he thought I was a loser. "Such a little brat!"

"No! That's not— I didn't—" I stammered, my words tangled in my throat, desperate to make them understand.

But then Dad slammed his hand down on the coffee table with a crack that made me jump.

"Go to the attic and think about what you've done!" he shouted, his face red with anger.

My heart raced, and my eyes darted to Mom, hoping she'd say something and step in like she usually did when things got bad.

She glanced at my scraped knees, her face softening for a split second. I thought maybe—just maybe—she'd defend me.

But then Dad's voice cut through the room like a whip. "Do not interfere, Irine! She needs to learn a lesson!"

Before I knew it, his hand was wrapped around my arm, yanking me up the stairs. I stumbled behind him, trying to keep my balance, my legs shaky from the pain and fear.

"I am Henry Franklin! I will not tolerate a child who is petty and selfish!"

His words sliced through me harder than anything Charlie had ever said.

Dad shoved me into the attic. And then the door slammed shut behind me with a hollow thud. He left me alone in that dark, suffocating, damp space.

The silence was eerie and deafening. I crumpled to the floor, feeling the sting of my scraped palms and the ache in my heart.

The tears came fast, hot, and uncontrollable. I tried to stop them, but it was like holding back a flood.

Everything hurt.

And then, I heard her voice.

Ginny.

She was standing there in the shadows. Her eyes glinted with that smug look she always had when she knew she'd won.

"Betty," she said softly, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "pretty soon, your dad, mom, and brother? They're all gonna be mine."

Her words hit me like a slap. I blinked at her, my mind reeling.

"Why should a fat girl like you get all their love while I'm an orphan?" she sneered, taking a step closer.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even cry anymore. I just stared at her, numb and confused.

Why? Why did she hate me this much? What had I ever done to her?

Before I could even process it, her hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of my hair. She yanked me down hard, slamming my head against the floor with a sickening crack.

I gasped. The shock of pain spread through my skull as blood started to trickle down my face.

But Ginny was merciless! She kept hitting me, over and over, her grip as brutal as her words!

I tried to fight back, but she was stronger than I imagined.

My arms felt weak. I was powerless against the monster she unleashed.

All I could do was lie there, broken and bruised, wondering how it had all come to this.

Then I heard slow footsteps on the stairs.

Mom!

"What happened? Did someone fall?" she asked.

For a brief, desperate moment, I thought I was saved.

I could barely get the words out, my voice shaky. But I called, "Mom! Mom, help! Please!"

The footsteps quickened, and I let myself hope—just for a sec—that she'd finally see what was really happening. That she'd save me, too.

But Ginny's hand released my hair just before Mom opened the door.

In one horrifying moment, Ginny messed up her own hair, and then, with terrifying precision, she grabbed my hand and scratched her neck with it. Deep, angry red marks appeared instantly.

When Mom burst through the door, everything slowed.

Ginny was on the floor—her eyes wide and tearful, her face bruised and pitiful.

"Ginny!" Mom screamed, rushing to her side, arms wrapping around her like she was the one in danger. "Oh, sweetie, don't be scared. I'm here, I'm here..."

And then, she turned to me, her eyes full of fury.

She didn't hesitate. Her hand flew across my face before I even saw it coming.

The slap sent me crashing to the ground, the sting so sharp it took my breath away.

"Oh, dear lord! How could you do this, Betty?" Mom's voice was thick with disbelief. She couldn't fathom that her own daughter would do something so cruel.

"What were you thinking?" Her voice cracked with anger and a deep, cutting disappointment that shattered me more than the slap.

I looked up at her, wanting to explain and scream the truth. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled in the pain and humiliation.

Behind her, Ginny was smirking.

She always wore that smug, victorious smile when she knew she had won.

And maybe she had...

Dad and Charlie appeared in the doorway, their faces taut with concern.

"Ginny, sweetie, what happened?" Dad asked, his voice softening as he crouched down to her level.

Ginny, still sniffling, pulled a piece of candy from her pocket, her eyes glistening with fake tears.

"I just wanted to give this to her… to say sorry… but she said I stole all your love, and then she started hitting me..."

I felt my blood boil. My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, rage surging through me.

"You're a liar! You hit me! You're the one who did that to yourself!" I yelled, but it was like shouting into the void.

Dad's face turned an alarming shade of red, his anger bubbling over.

"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cramped attic. He grabbed my shirt, yanking me down to my knees. "How did you turn into such a liar? How could you be so cruel?!"

My tears flowed freely, each a mix of frustration and pain. My whole body trembled with the weight of it all.

When Dad finally let go of me, he turned back to Ginny, his voice shifting to a soothing tone.

"Ginny, sweetie, don't be scared. If she hits you, you can hit her back. It's only fair."

His words struck me like a punch to the gut, and the attic spun as I tried to process what I was hearing.

Dad was telling her to hurt me more?