Chapter 2
Days went by, and the married man started showing up at our house more and more often, saying he was giving Melissa and me free tutoring.
It was exactly like before.
I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew nothing in this world came for free.
One time, he tried to get handsy with me. Terrified, I kicked him away.
He just smirked and said, "Don't make such a fuss. I just want to play a game with you."
And every so-called "game" he suggested had nothing innocent about it.
I turned down every single one.
Soon after, he and Melissa started getting closer and closer until it led to the scene I saw at the beginning.
Good grades had given Melissa everything except the ability to respect herself.
I had warned her more than once to stay away from him, but she never listened.
Instead, she accused me of being jealous — jealous of her grades, jealous of how everyone liked her.
What she didn't realize was that the married man she adored was only toying with her, sweet words hiding his filth.
She would never have guessed that, compared to what was coming, our parents' favoritism was nothing.
A teenage girl and a married man sneaked around in secret.
And she certainly didn't know that each time they met, he secretly recorded everything just to use it against her later.
Thinking of that, I couldn't help but smirk. The show was just getting started.
*****
Melissa snapped, "Catherine, are you out of your mind? Look what you did to my clothes. This is silk, you idiot. It's supposed to be hand-washed. You really are a bumpkin."
I kept my head down and said nothing, which only made her angrier.
She lunged at me, trying to tear my hair, but I grabbed her arm and shoved her to the ground. She bit down hard into my arm.
Before I could react, a slap landed hard across my face.
It was my mother.
Melissa started sobbing, putting on her most pitiful act. "Mom, Catherine scared me. She grabbed my neck and tried to choke me.
"Catherine, if you ever want to hit the books, I can help you. Watching too much of that lovey-dovey stuff on TV is just going to be a bad influence. As a girl, you ought to have some self-respect. Otherwise, people will never take you seriously.
"I know you didn't mean to ruin my clothes. You just got careless, wanting to finish up quickly. But the teacher said this performance really matters. It decides if I get into the school team."
Melissa smirked as she spoke.
Before she could finish, another slap landed hard across my face.
Linda snapped, "You heartless brat! You're vile, shameless at your age. I'll beat the life out of you."
She grabbed a soda can from the table and hurled it at me.
It was just like my last life.
No matter what I said or did, I'd end up with a kick or a slap, and flying objects — ashtrays, bowls, slippers, even the broom.
In that life, I always fought back. And in the end, I paid for it — dying far away, broken and alone. This time, I knew better. First, I had to survive.
Melissa said she was joining the performance for the trophy, but honestly, it was all about making sure that the married man next door saw her at her very best.
A woman always dressed for the one she wanted to please. I understood that much.
I snuck a look at Linda, who was practically seeing red and knew it was time to put on a show.
I begged, "Mom, it's all my fault. Melissa is the pride of our family. What matters to her matters to us all. I'll stop watching TV and start studying harder. Here, this is the money I earned from my part-time job. Buy her a new dress.
"I won't sign up for street dance classes anymore. I'll give all my earnings to Melissa.
"I'll take over all the chores at home. You and Dad are swamped with work and still have to take care of us. It's really not fair to you."
Linda froze for a moment.
After all, that money had taken me the whole summer to earn. I'd been saving it to sign up for a street dance class.
In my last life, whenever Melissa wanted something, my parents bought it for her without hesitation.
While I had to work for every tiny piece of my dream.
Back then, I thought their favoritism was my fault — that if I studied harder, maybe they'd stop being ashamed of me.
Linda once said, "If we hadn't saved you back then, we could've bought that apartment downtown. We never should've saved you. With just Melissa, we'd be living easy right now."
For years, those words haunted me.
And I never did anything to deserve any of it.
After Linda left, Melissa smirked. "I know you're faking it, trying to milk Mom and Dad for sympathy. You hate that they treat me better. But what can you do? I've got the brains, and you're just the family embarrassment."
She wasn't wrong. I was pretending.
But this time, I wouldn't be the one making the family look bad.