She Played Victim, I’ll Unmask Her

Chapter 4

That night, I heard my biological parents screaming at each other in a vicious argument.

My birth mother insisted I was a bad seed, putting on a sad, helpless act to milk everyone for sympathy.

My birth father, though, saw right through the mess. He said Selena was just a petty, scheming brat who didn't want the real daughter of the family coming back to take what was hers.

I'd already locked my door tight, and I pressed a pillow hard over my ears to muffle the noise.

My foot was throbbing like crazy, but my heart felt lighter than it had in years. I was giddy.

Finally. I'd made Selena feel exactly what it was like to have a broken bone.

Flashback to winter, when we were in ninth grade. She'd gone to grab a grilled sausage from a street food stand, and she'd spat at me, calling me a dumb, mute dog.

By some stroke of luck, Zack from the high school division had been standing close enough to hear every word.

I still remember how he lifted his head, his gaze sharp and icy, staring straight at Selena as he said to the friend next to him, "Since when does our school let total trash with zero manners walk through the doors?"

Zack was a total legend at our school, the kind of guy everyone talked about.

He was roguishly handsome, spent half his classes asleep and half his after-school time getting into fights, yet he still sat firmly at the top of the entire grade's leader board, no exceptions.

Every girl in the school had a secret crush on him. And Selena was definitely no exception to that rule.

Getting called out for being rude by the upperclassman she'd pined after for ages? Selena burst into tears on the spot.

But as soon as Zack walked away, my foster mother slapped me twice across the face, hard. She hit me harder that time than she ever had before.

I knelt on the ground, blood dripping from my nose, mouthing apologies over and over, but Selena still wasn't satisfied. She was furious.

She lifted her foot, clad in a stiff leather shoe, and kicked me as hard as she could right in the arm.

It broke instantly.

*****

I slept like a rock that night.

The next morning, since my foot was still too sore to walk on, my birth father told Sara to bring breakfast straight to my room.

Freshly baked bread, rich, warm milk, and a fried egg, crispy on the outside, soft and runny on the inside.

It was the most basic breakfast in the world to anyone else, but in my sixteen years of life, I'd never tasted anything better.

I'd only taken a few sips of milk when Selena stormed in. Her face was pale and gaunt, dark circles under her eyes. She'd obviously spent the whole night awake in agony from her broken bone.

"You did this on purpose!" She snatched my glass of milk, ready to hurl the whole thing all over me, but she thought better of it at the last second, slamming it back down on the nightstand so hard the liquid sloshed over the edge.

"I swear I saw you lying with your head facing this way! In the two seconds I was gone to get water, you flipped over to the other side? You were faking sleep! You set me up, you little backstabber!"

I just stared at her, a small, silent smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Selena was seething, but she didn't dare hurt me out in the open, she was terrified my birth father would find out and punish her.

Instead, she pinched the soft inner part of my thigh as hard as she could, hissing a warning. "Pull a stunt like that again, and I'll make my mom throw you out on the street for good!"

'Her mom?'

She'd been the cuckoo in the nest for so long, stealing my family and my life, that she'd actually convinced herself she was the real rich young miss of the family?

I didn't bother acknowledging her. I just went back to eating my breakfast, savoring every bite.

A dull ache throbbed every now and then in my thigh and the top of my foot, but compared to everything I'd been through? That was nothing. Not even a scratch.

After breakfast, my biological dad dropped by to check on me, saying he'd personally drive me to the hospital to change my dressings that afternoon.

I tugged at his sleeve and gave him a bright, sweet smile.

I pulled out my notebook and wrote: Thanks, Dad. I have one more favor to ask you."

I told him I'd barely gotten any formal education, apart from the three years the community had signed me up for a school for the deaf and mute.

All the writing skills I have now come from a friend who helped me, plus lots of self-study.

Dad, that friend who taught me to read is on summer break right now. Can you ask him to come keep teaching me?

My dad didn't hesitate for a single second.

I flipped through my notebook, fished out a phone number, and handed it to him.

It was Zack's number.

Back after Zack called Selena out for her terrible manners, he'd spotted the splint on my arm the very next day. Someone later told him my foster parents and Selena had beaten me half to death over that incident.

He felt awful about it. From then on, he'd sneak me snacks and books whenever my foster parents weren't paying attention.

Later, I told him my whole story in secret. I knew who my biological dad was, but I had no way to get in touch with him.

So Zack sent my dad an anonymous letter, and that's how my dad finally learned his precious daughter had been stranded away from home all these years.

That same afternoon, Zack showed up at the Harrison residence.

To make it easier for me to study, my dad bought me a cell phone, a tablet, and a laptop. He also got me a handheld writing board so I could communicate with the family more easily.

Zack typed his phone number into my brand-new phone and even helped me set up a messaging app account.

Just then, Selena walked in.

She froze, her eyes going wide. "Zack? What are you doing here?"

Zack didn't even glance her way, his tone ice-cold. "I'm Fatima's tutor."

Selena's eyes sharpened, glinting like they were dipped in poison as she pinned them on me.

Then, all of a sudden, she smiled.

She stepped into the room and plopped down next to me, acting all sweet and chummy.

"Wow, Fatima, you're so lucky to get him to tutor you! I was just looking to preview my 10th grade classes, anyway. It's total overkill for someone as smart as him to tutor you. Why don't you let him tutor me instead? I'll ask Mom to find you another tutor, okay?"

Before I could even respond, she spun around and raced downstairs to find my biological mom.

Not long after, my mom marched up the stairs and told Zack he'd be tutoring Selena instead from now on.

Zack's face darkened immediately. "Mrs. Harrison, I promised Mr. Harrison I'd tutor Fatima. She's a very sweet student, and I like teaching her. I don't want to swap students."

He gestured toward the door, clearly dismissing her. "Mrs. Harrison, we're about to start our lesson."

My mom left with her tail between her legs, storming downstairs with Selena right behind her, both fuming.

A couple days later, desperate to show off how loving she was, my biological mom hired a top-rated, famous tutor for Selena.

That renowned tutor was a total hardass. Selena was stuck suffering in silence, with no way to vent her frustration. Every time she saw me, she looked like she wanted to rip my throat out.

Around two weeks later, my foot had healed up a lot.

It happened to be a Sunday, when neither Selena nor I had any tutoring sessions. She suggested taking me to the mall to buy undergarments.

Back when I lived with my foster parents, I didn't own a single decent undergarment. Even now, at sixteen years old, I'd never worn a proper bra before.

My birth mom finally realized she'd dropped the ball on that, so she took both of us to the mall together.

The whole ride there, Selena was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. She put on an uncharacteristically friendly act around me.

I knew exactly what was up. Her little revenge scheme was finally kicking off.

I'd overheard her cackling as she plotted the whole thing on a call with someone a few days earlier. She wanted to humiliate me so badly that my birth parents would throw me out of the house for good.

She really thought I was a helpless fish splayed out on her cutting board, ready to be carved up however she wanted. Little did she know, I was already ten steps ahead of her.

Fine. If she was so dead set on never leaving the house, I'd be more than happy to grant her that wish.

I'd make sure she never leaves, as a ghost of the family.