Was that really the same dad? I searched his face, but all I saw was coldness.
Ginny was beside him, looking like the perfect little victim. Tears were streaming down her face, and her head was shaking like she was devastated. She was always good at that—playing pitiful.
And it worked. Because without even thinking, Dad grabbed her hand and… started using it to slap me.
He taught her how to hit me.
I didn't feel the first few slaps, not physically. I was too numb for that.
But the shame? That cut through me like nothing else. It was like I wasn't even in my own body, watching from the outside as my father showed my sister how to hurt me.
And Mom… Mom didn't even look at me. She just turned her head, like if she didn't see it, it wasn't happening.
Charlie stood off to the side, his eyes filled with disgust. I think that hurt the most, honestly. That look in his eyes made me feel like I wasn't even his sister anymore—just something beneath him.
Ginny? She's usually so timid, but that time, she kept hitting me over and over, and it wasn't just my face that stung. Every slap hit deeper like she wanted to break something inside me. My soul, maybe.