Chapter 4
Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn't hold them back anymore.
Someone as little as I suddenly knew what it felt like to have my heart shattered.
My parents actually said that as long as I wasn't dead, they didn't care to know anything about me anymore.
Now that witch wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore.
She could totally get rid of me if she wanted.
It was like I was back to being that six-year-old kid again.
They were abandoning me all over again.
But I didn't hate them.
I kept telling myself I understood them.
It wasn't really their fault.
They were just fooled by that witch.
Once Martha's true nature was exposed, I believed they would finally see the truth and start loving me again.
They would apologize.
They would scoop me up in their arms, gentle and warm.
They would say, "Sorry, honey. We're so sorry that you had to go through all this."
Yes, that was it.
That was definitely how it would be.
That was just how Bailey's parents were with her.
But...
How was I ever supposed to show everyone what a monster Martha really was?
Why did this have to be so hard?
It was all my fault for being so dumb.
If only I were as smart as Sophie.
I was sure I would figure it out.
But it was fine.
My math teacher always said I wasn't dumb.
I was just too young for calculus.
No three-year-old could ever learn something that tough.
I would get it once I was old enough to learn.
And when I was a bit older, I would figure this tough problem out, too.
I kept my head down and bided my time.
I pushed myself to grow up as fast as I could.
Of course, I never stopped looking for a way to show everyone what a monster Martha really was.
I even thought about swiping her phone just to call Mom and Dad.
But turns out, she didn't have their numbers anywhere on her phone.
One time, when she got drunk, she started bragging to me, "You think I don't know what you're plotting in that little head of yours? You want to steal my phone and rat me out, don't you?"
She laughed. "Let me tell you. Your parents' numbers have been wiped from my phone for ages. Don't even think you'll get the chance."
She took pleasure in watching my face go pale as she poked me again.
Just because she lost a bit of cash playing cards earlier that day, she took it all out on me.
I even thought about reporting her to my teacher or the cops.
But Martha could fake it like nobody's business.
She'd put on this perfect act for the neighbors, making it look like she was the sweetest nanny ever.
She'd play the part of a loving mom so well.
She pulled the same old trick again, badmouthing me behind my back to all the neighbors.
She painted me as a liar through and through.
So it didn't matter how much I begged for help. No one ever believed a word I said.
I lay there on the basement bed, feeling like the world was closing in on me.
Right then, it felt like all hope had vanished.
Honestly, it seemed like all I could do was keep my head down and survive until I was finally old enough to break free.
But when I saw Martha's husband leering at me with that creepy, disgusting stare, I suddenly realized something terrifying.
It hit me all at once.
Maybe I'd never even get the chance to grow up.
That sleazy, revolting creep kept creeping down to the basement whenever I was trying to sleep.
He'd just stand there, his eyes locked on my bare legs with that disgusting, predatory stare.
He would suddenly pound on the bathroom door while I was showering, claiming he needed to get something inside.
Or sometimes, when I was home alone, he'd suddenly try to grope me, putting his hands on me out of nowhere.
Ever since I hit puberty at twelve, stuff like this just kept happening more and more.
I was not that bright, but I'd seen things like this in books before.
Even I could tell this wasn't right.
So when I saw him sneaking my underwear into his room again, I knew exactly what I had to do.
I locked the balcony door and stood on our balcony.
I finally knew how to get rid of them.