I remembered the college entrance exams vividly. I had outperformed Lily by a significant margin, and Grandma and Grandpa had rewarded me with a thick red envelope. When Lily found out, she flew into a rage, threatening to run away if the "imbalance" wasn't corrected.
To pacify her, Mom and Dad hiked her monthly allowance to $450. Meanwhile, studying in Los Angeles, I scraped by on $120.
"Grandpa and Grandma are playing favorites," Dad had justified. "We have to make it up to Lily. Keep the bowl of water level."
"I earned that reward because I did well on the exam!" I had screamed, tears streaming down my face. "If you won't match it, fine. But why is my allowance a fraction of hers? How is that fair?"
Dad didn't answer with words. He answered with a boot to my chest.
Pain exploded in my ribs. I collapsed, gasping, unable to stand. He didn't even glance at me. Instead, he cradled Lily in his arms, pointing a shaking finger at my crumpled form.
"You know your sister has been frail since birth, yet you haggle over every cent? We're family. Can't you just yield to her?"
That kick severed the last thread of my affection for them.