Chapter 4

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the floor of my own living room.

My face burned.

My mother stood over me, hands on her hips, her face full of fury.

"Well, Fiona, you've really gotten bold, haven't you? Now you dare fake fainting out in public?"

"You did it on purpose, didn't you? Collapsed out there deliberately so people would see and say we abuse you? How can you be so scheming!"

I propped myself up on my arms, trying to sit up.

Only when I moved did I realize my knees and palms were scraped raw and oozing blood.

"I didn't... I really was dizzy..."

"Still talking back!"

Mom kicked my arm.

"If you weren't born a princess, don't act like one! Faking a faint the moment there's a little work? Let me tell you, that doesn't fly with me!"

"Lie there if you want. Lie there till dark and nobody's going to care!"

Then she turned and walked into the kitchen, humming a tune as she cooked fish for Ralph.

When Ralph came out of his room, he went out of his way to give me a wide berth as he passed, like he was avoiding something filthy.

"Mom, is she just going to lie right there? That's such bad luck."

"Leave her be. She's faking. She'll get up on her own once she's had enough."

I lay on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling.

The pain in my chest grew worse and worse, and every breath tasted of blood.

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes and dropped to the floor.

So it turned out people really could be this cruel.

Even to their own daughter, they could be this cruel.

I don't know how long I lay there before I slowly crawled up.

The wounds on my body hurt with every movement.

I didn't cry, and I didn't make a scene.

I quietly gathered up the groceries that had fallen on the floor, washed them clean, and went into the kitchen to cook.

My health got worse by the day.

I was often dizzy and couldn't eat.

At night the pain kept me awake, and the phlegm I coughed up was streaked with blood.

But I didn't dare say anything.

Saying anything would only get me scolded.

A week later, in the afternoon, my parents came home with Ralph's college acceptance letter, grinning from ear to ear.

The red letter, with its gold lettering, was set in the most prominent spot in the house.

"My son's going to make something of himself! Getting into such a good school!"

"Of course he is. Look at whose son he is!"

The two of them fussed over Ralph for ages.

Then Mom turned her head and saw me standing off to the side, and seemed to remember something.

"Oh right, Fiona, there's something I need to tell you."

"Your dad and I found you a job at an electronics factory. Room and board included, forty-five hundred a month. The pay goes straight into my account to save up for your brother's tuition. You go report for work tomorrow."

My head snapped up to look at her.

The electronics factory ran two shifts, twelve hours on your feet a day.

With my body, going there would mean death.

"Mom, I can't. My body really can't take it..."

"Take it or not, you'll take it!"

Dad flared up at once and slammed the table.

"I think you're just lazy! What's wrong with a little work at your age? When we were your age, we were already out working to feed the family!"

"Exactly."

Mom chimed in, her voice cutting.

"Don't pull this on me. I'm telling you, you're going to that job!"

"You think we brought you back here so you could live it up? Your brother's schooling costs money, and one day his wedding and a house will cost money too. If you don't pull your weight, who will?"

"But I..."

"But what! There's no but!"

Ralph sat with one leg crossed over the other, giving me a sideways look.

"When you're told to go, you go. Why all the yammering? You're lucky you get to earn my tuition. Don't be so ungrateful."

I was shaking all over with anger.

The sharp pain surged up in my chest, like a knife twisting inside.

I slowly sank into a crouch, cold sweat dripping off my chin.

I opened my mouth to speak, but not a sound came out.

Mom stamped her foot in a rage.

"Here we go again! Every single time I tell you to work, you pull this! Aren't you sick of it? Can't you come up with something new?"

"Fake, fake, fake, that's all you do all day. Why don't you go be an actor!"

"I'm telling you, you can talk till the sky falls, you're still going to that job!"

The pain blurred my mind, my ears rang, and their voices sounded like they came through a layer of mist.

I braced myself against the floor, struggled to my feet, and stumbled toward the guest room.

Mom shouted after me.

"Get back here! Where do you think you're going?"

I didn't look back. With the last of my strength, I made it into the guest room.

I shut the door behind me and locked it.

I leaned against the door and slowly slid down it.

Breathing grew harder and harder, as if something were blocking my airway.

I reached out to grab something, but there was nothing to hold on to.

Outside the door, the cursing went on.

"I told you not to spoil her. She's just faking!"

"When she comes out she's going to work tomorrow, no arguments! Spoiled rotten, that one!"

"Mom, if she won't go, just don't feed her. Let's see if she keeps faking then."

I leaned against the door, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

At eighteen, I thought I finally had a home.

It turned out that behind this door was where I really belonged.

My awareness slowly faded.

In a haze, I felt like I was back at the orphanage.

The director patted my head and told me I'd have a home now.

Yes.

I had a home now.

Only this home had never once belonged to me.

The cursing outside the door grew farther and fainter.

My head tilted to one side, and my hand fell limp.

Outside the door, Mom cursed for a good while, and with no sound at all coming from inside, her temper only rose.

"Fine, so now you're giving me the silent treatment, huh?"

"Fiona! I'm counting to three, and you'd better open this door! Or I'll break it down!"

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

Still no sound from inside.

Dad came over, his face dark.

"Don't waste your breath on her. Break the door down and let's see how long she can keep up this act!"

With that, Dad took a step back and kicked the door open.