They Ate Me Alive, But I Was Their Lifeline

I looked up at Dad, trying to recognize him—the man who used to lift me high, spinning me around until I giggled so hard my sides hurt.

Was that really the same dad? I searched his face, but all I saw was coldness.

Ginny was beside him, looking like the perfect little victim. Tears were streaming down her face, and her head was shaking like she was devastated. She was always good at that—playing pitiful.

And it worked. Because without even thinking, Dad grabbed her hand and… started using it to slap me.

He taught her how to hit me.

I didn't feel the first few slaps, not physically. I was too numb for that.

But the shame? That cut through me like nothing else. It was like I wasn't even in my own body, watching from the outside as my father showed my sister how to hurt me.

And Mom… Mom didn't even look at me. She just turned her head, like if she didn't see it, it wasn't happening.

Charlie stood off to the side, his eyes filled with disgust. I think that hurt the most, honestly. That look in his eyes made me feel like I wasn't even his sister anymore—just something beneath him.

Ginny? She's usually so timid, but that time, she kept hitting me over and over, and it wasn't just my face that stung. Every slap hit deeper like she wanted to break something inside me. My soul, maybe.

And I think she did. I had never been treated like that before.

I wailed. I struggled to get free. But they just stood there—my own family—watching me like I was some freak show! No one stepped in. No one stopped her!

When Ginny finally grew tired and backed off, my chest was on fire, and my entire body trembled while I was catching my breath.

Soon, all I heard was my unsettling breath. The world around me faded as they turned their backs and locked me away in that traumatizing attic.

The next day, after waiting all night, someone finally came to let me out.

It wasn't Mom or Dad—of course not. It was the maid, and when she saw me, she just… scoffed. Like I was something pathetic, not even worth her time.

At first, I didn't get it. I was still reeling from everything that happened.

But then Ginny threw a mirror in front of me. Of course, she wanted to see how I'd react. She said, "You look even more like a pig now."

I saw the bruises and the swollen mess on my face. I barely recognized myself.

I twisted my nose, and I winced. Ginny should pay for it!

I wanted her to feel even a fraction of the pain I'd felt. I thought I could charge at her, make her feel something.

But before I could even take a step, Charlie's boot slammed into my side, knocking me back to the floor.

"Charlie! She hit me last night!" I showed him my cheeks. "And now, didn't you hear her call me a pig?"

I was desperate for him to see that I was the victim. I wanted my brother to side with me just for once.

But he looked down at me. "Was she wrong, though?" he shot back casually.

I thought the world stopped for a second. When it finally registered in my head, I wondered, what's the point of being alive?

I looked into my brother's eyes, and the answer wasn't there.

Maybe he realized I expected him to be a brother to me, so he said, "Look, Ginny's my sister. You? You just bring me shame, so don't tell anyone I'm your brother when we're out."

Then Ginny strutted past, her dirty shoes dragging over my white dress, leaving filthy smudges behind. I lay there, helpless, listening to the sound of their laughter fading down the hall.

I didn't know what I was feeling. Maybe everything. Maybe hell. But maybe trapped was the most accurate term. I was trapped between the desperate need for my family to care and that nightmare I constantly willed myself to wake up from.

It felt like no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I begged for them to see me, that—that hell—was all I'd ever be. And god, I was so scared it would follow me. Forever.

I actually believed I'd escaped it, though. Growing up, I thought once I got taller and slimmer, I'd stop being the disgusting overweight kid.

But the truth is, shame stuck to me. Childhood ghosts just don't vanish—they cling tighter than my bangs, tighter than those awful thick glasses I wore like a mask.

Even when I wasn't fat anymore, I still felt it. My insecurities were thick and heavy, like a layer of fat—except no one else could see it. I was still the little girl craving affection, still envious of Ginny's effortless charm.

I remember, one day, I got home, and the moment I stepped through the doorway, guess what? Dad threw a cup at me. He literally just hurled it straight at my face, and it hit me hard, right on the forehead. I didn't even have time to react before I felt blood dripping down. God, he was furious!

"What the hell were you thinking?! Why did you put a dead mouse in Ginny's lunch?" he roared.

And Ginny? Of course, that girl curled up next to Dad like a snake. Of course, she robbed me of the chance to be heard. She just casually laughed and nudged him playfully.

"Dad, if she's gonna do this to me, I think I should get to bully her back."

That angel in disguise! I knew what she was doing!

No, she wasn't waiting for Dad's approval. She knew he would just casually nod. But she asked that question in front of me anyway 'cause she knew that even if I already knew what Dad would say, his words would still break me inside.

She always enjoyed seeing me suffer. Like hurting me was just a game for her.

And then, as I expected, Dad nodded without hesitation, like Ginny's suggestion made perfect sense. Like I deserved it.

He turned his back on me, and that's when Charlie stepped in.

Without warning, he shoved me down. I didn't even have a second to brace myself before I hit the floor. My glasses broke, and one of the pieces cut my cheek.

The pain was sharp, but what really hurt was the casual way they did it like I was nothing more than a food wrap.

They've been doing it for so long, I was almost numb to it.

Then they dumped this pile of rotten food right in front of me. I swear, the smell was so awful I could puke!

Then Ginny leaned over me. That crazy girl laughed like she already imagined what's gonna happen next.

"Go on, eat it. Don't worry. It's way cleaner than a dead mouse," she said, smirking down at me.

That's my life. I'd stopped trying to fight back. No one ever listened anyway. It's always been like that.

So I did it. I opened my mouth, and I took a handful of spoiled rice and rotten fish. The taste was so much more horrible than the smell.

Mango. There was mango in it.

I remember that because I'm allergic. It was sickening. But I swallowed it anyway, like a part of me wished it would just kill me. Maybe then my life would stop hurting.

Charlie was annoyed I wasn't eating fast enough, so he pushed my head onto the floor. The food smeared all over my face, and I just… couldn't stop crying. His hand was so heavy it muffled my sobs on the thick pile of rotten food.

I was fucking humiliated, but what was the point of fighting?

You might be asking where my mom was. Well, she was upstairs playing with a new dog. I could hear her voice. It was cheerful and carefree.

Then I heard Dad's heavy footsteps echoing and then fading on the stairs. He just left me there, discarded like the food I was forced to eat.

I thought, at least it was done. But then Ginny pressed her foot onto my face, hard enough that I could feel my skin bruising under her shoe.

"You brought this on yourself," she said, word by word. Typical of her—pretending to be innocent. In fact, if she killed me, I bet everyone would believe it was suicide.

The next thing I knew, the allergic reaction kicked in. I started to feel a burning sensation in my throat, and I felt like I was being set on fire. My skin was breaking out in hives. I was choking, trying to gasp for air.

I reached out to Charlie, begging him to help me, and he almost didn't. He looked like he was going to kick me away again until he saw how bad it was.

I barely heard Mom say, "I need to wash the puppy. Can you guys take her to the hospital?"

She didn't even come downstairs to see me. Dad didn't care, either. He just grumbled, "Clean her up first. We don't want people thinking we abuse her."

As if they didn't.