The Daughter They Didn’t Want Won The Lottery Chapter 05
Her palm cracked across my face so hard the room tilted.
“You little slut—running around with grown men for cash at nineteen—I’ll kill you right here!”
The slaps came down like rain, each one landing with a curse.
The restaurant erupted.
“Kids these days—selling herself for pocket money.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t raise ’em right.”
“You ever pull anything like this and I’ll break your legs.”
Every word landed like a burn. I shook. I couldn’t make a sound.
Then a hand came up in front of my face.
Liam’s.
“Ms. Carter. Please. Stop.”
He stepped in front of me, shoulders squared. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. Even if she took the money, you can’t beat her like this.”
Mom’s hand hovered, then dropped. But her voice didn’t.
“I’ll discipline my own daughter, Liam. If I don’t nip this now, she’ll be shoplifting next. Then it’s a police record. I’m doing this for her.”
Liam’s face changed. He looked at me like he didn’t know me anymore. Disbelief. Disappointment. Maybe even hurt.
Then he turned and walked out.
“Liam—wait—” Chloe scrambled after him.
I stood in the wreckage. My knees almost gave out. My cheek burned.
But the real pain was somewhere deeper in my chest, a dull weight I couldn’t reach.
Mom dragged me home by the arm.
The second we were through the door she shoved me into my room, slammed the door, threw the deadbolt.
“You sit in there and think about what you did! No allowance the rest of the summer!”
I slid down the door to the floor.
Later, dinner smells drifted under the crack. Forks. Laughter. Mom. Dad. Chloe.
Nineteen years, and I still couldn’t tell you why I was always the outsider in my own family.
Not that it mattered anymore. Twenty bucks a month. That was all I’d ever been worth to her. I wouldn’t be needing her charity again.
I curled up on the floor and fell asleep like that.
I woke up the next morning with a mouth like sandpaper.
The doorknob didn’t turn. I banged on it. “Mom? Dad? Anybody? I need water—open the door!”
Silence. The kind of silence a house makes when nobody’s home.
I grabbed the cracked-screen phone off the desk. My thumb slipped and opened Instagram out of habit.
Chloe’s story sat at the top. Nine photos. Blue sky. Snow-capped mountains. Caption: weekend in Aspen with the fam!!
Mom in a parka. Dad with a selfie stick. Chloe in the middle, peace sign.
I called Dad.
Two seconds of silence. Then Chloe: “Em, what are you talking about? I specifically unlocked your door before we left.”
Then Mom, sharp: “Emma. Are you seriously doing this because we didn’t bring you? Grow up.”
“Mom, I’m not—”
“You sit there and think about what you did. And forget any trip. With that score and that attitude, you must be out of your mind.”
Click.
Liam had a key. I called him. Three rings. Cut off. Again. One ring. Cut off.
Then a text.
Liam: Em, don’t call me for a few days. I think we need to reconsider what this is between us.