Chapter 3

The next day, my new art supplies went missing. My dad had given me a small amount of money for school, and I had used it to buy a set of colored pencils and a sketchbook. It was the first time I' d ever had a set that was all my own.

My mom found the empty packaging in the trash. She stormed into my room, holding it up like evidence of a crime.

"Where did you get the money for this?" she demanded.

"Dad gave it to me for school supplies," I tried to explain.

"Liar!" she screamed. "You stole it! I know you stole money from the store register!"

My dad came into the room. He didn' t ask any questions. He just took my mother' s side.

"We don' t raise thieves in this house, Chloe."

Before I could say another word, my mom' s hand flew out and struck my head. The force of it sent me stumbling backwards. My head hit the corner of my wooden desk, and the room spun. A loud ringing filled my ears.

"Did you steal it?" she yelled, her face close to mine. "Tell me the truth!"

Tears streamed down my face. My head throbbed. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted it to stop.

"I... I did," I choked out, the lie tasting like poison. "I' m sorry."

It was the only way to make the hitting end.

Just then, the door burst open and Brittany ran in, wailing.

"Mommy! Daddy! I fell down outside and scraped my knee!"

Instantly, the anger in the room vanished, replaced by frantic concern. My parents rushed to her side, their faces masks of worry.

"Oh, my poor baby! Where does it hurt? Let Mommy see."

"Is it bleeding? We need to clean it right away!"

They completely forgot about me. I was left standing by the desk, my head pounding, watching them fuss over Brittany' s tiny, insignificant scrape. They gently cleaned her knee, put a colorful band-aid on it, and gave her a piece of candy to make her feel better.

After they had calmed Brittany down, my dad finally turned back to me. His face was cold and hard again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single piece of bubble gum wrapped in a comic strip. He tossed it onto my bed.

"Don' t let me catch you stealing again," he said, his voice void of any warmth. It wasn' t a comfort. It was a warning.

I looked at the piece of gum. It felt like an insult. I picked it up and held it in my hand. It was hard and cold. I slowly unwrapped it and put it in my mouth. My lip was split from where my mom had hit me earlier, and the sugary sweetness of the gum mixed with the metallic taste of my own blood.

I spit it out into the trash can.

Later, my grandma came into my room. She saw the bruise forming on my cheekbone and the way I was holding my head. Her face became a thundercloud.

"What happened, Chloe?"

I couldn' t speak. I just pointed to the bruise.

She stormed out of the room, and I heard her yelling at my parents in the living room. "How could you? How could you do this to a child? To your own daughter?"

My parents didn' t yell back. I heard my mom say something about me being difficult, and then the front door slammed. They had left, escaping her anger.

I found Brittany in her room, playing with her dolls. The missing art supplies were tucked neatly under her bed. She hadn' t even bothered to hide them well.

"Why?" I asked, my voice hoarse and shaky. "Why did you lie?"

She didn' t look at me. She just grabbed her favorite doll and ran out of the room, leaving me alone with the truth that no one else wanted to see.