2
950 Words
Jade~
I couldn't stand it anymore and kicked the door wide open. There on the bed lay my sister with my boyfriend, covered in my blanket.
Mark gripped the blanket tighter instead of getting out of bed. He was probably naked underneath, because his chest was bare. "Jade, you came back early..." he started, sweat dripping from his face.
I shifted my gaze from him to my sister, then to my parents. My jaw clenched. The sight of them and their dismissive behavior toward me made my blood boil even more.
"How many more times are you two going to take her side? She's done this before, and you know it. Now she's done it a third time. How many more will she take from me?" My voice rose with each word, rage building inside me.
My mother snorted and looked away, and my father pretended I wasn't even in the room.
Just maybe, if she stayed with each of them longer, it would make sense. But her goal was to destroy my happiness. That's why she dumped each one and moved on to the next, instead of finding her own man.
Returning here when I was fifteen was the worst decision I'd ever made. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be going through this now.
I turned to Mark, who was still staring at me with his mouth hanging open. "And you claim you didn't realize she wasn't your girlfriend? You can't even tell what my back looks like, or recognize my scent? What kind of man are you? You're saying you'd sleep with any woman who claims to be me?"
"Why are you blaming me so much?" His voice hardened, and his expression turned cold.
I nodded. "I should blame the man who doesn't recognize his own girlfriend. You didn't even notice how long I'd been at work—"
"Stop already!" he cut me off, his face darkening. "It's not my fault, and you know it. Maybe if you had let me get close to you, I would know what your body feels like and recognize your scent. So stop blaming me when you don't even seem to love me."
Mark?!
I scoffed and shoved my hair back. I hadn't seen this coming.
We'd agreed on no intimacy until our hundredth day, and this was how it ended?
This man didn't regret what he'd just done at all.
"You knew all along she wasn't me, Mark. Just admit it—it won't kill you." I yelled at him, biting my lower lip.
I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest. Why would he do this after all our promises? He was the man I'd dated this long, and I thought it would finally work out. Yet he'd let my evil sister take him from me too.
"So..." my mother's voice drew my attention. "...you hadn't let the man you claim belongs to you touch you?"
"Why would she, when she always smells of engine oil? She probably thinks she's a man herself, with that tomboy personality she refuses to change," my father added.
I just stared at them, my mouth dropping open in shock.
They'd never talked down to me for being a tomboy or for my line of work until now. They'd forgotten that I might not have been this way if they hadn't left me with my grandpa until I turned fifteen.
Just seven years with them, and I already wanted to die, when living under their roof should have been the safest place.
"I was dressed this way, smelling of engine oil, when Mark asked me to be his girlfriend. Why didn't he go straight to Clara then? She, who can't keep a man, always waits until I have one—"
"Shut the hell up!" my mother snarled. "Have you ever thought about what's wrong with you that Clara keeps taking your boyfriends, and they never beg to come back? Or do you need to be told that you should work on yourself so you can actually attract men?"
My fingers curled into fists.
So this was it. I could finally see the real people I called family.
"A man might be attracted to you at first, until he realizes you aren't the kind of woman he wants. So try keeping up with the latest fashion so men will keep wanting you," Mom added, sneering at me.
I held back the tears burning in my eyes, because crying here would only make me look weaker.
"Sister, I think Mom is right..." Clara chimed in, her arm draped over Mark's chest. "You should try working on yourself before getting involved with another man."
The sheer audacity of this woman. She was three years younger than me and had never treated me like an elder sister since I returned.
I marched closer to the bed and leaned my hand on it, my gaze fixed on her. "How many more of my boyfriends will you take?"
"You shouldn't be asking that..." she responded calmly. "Mark really enjoyed the little moment we shared," she added, glancing at him with a smile, which he returned.
Those smiles from him made everything worse. I wanted to tear him apart.
"Mark, you don't regret this, right?" I asked him gently.
He looked away at first. When he thought it was safe to respond, he said, "I really don't, because your sister gave me what you always kept from me. I finally felt like I was actually dating someone for the first time. So no, I don't regret losing you—you're not a complete woman to me."
I'm not a complete woman? Mark said that to my face?
- Writer
