"I hate the baby, and I hate my stepmom. She’s a thief, stealing my ribs and cherries."
The stick wasn’t thick, but the kid's force was considerable.
Mom's eyes welled up as she swayed with each jab, nearly toppling over.
Her pained expression reminded me of the time when kids at school mocked me for not having a father.
My anger boiled over.
Before anyone could react, I marched up and kicked the little brat, sending him crashing to the floor.
The room fell silent, save for the boy's shrill cries.
Mom, who was used to me being the quiet, obedient daughter, looked stunned.
I hurried to her side, gently placing my hand on her belly, my face etched with worry.
"Mom, is your belly alright?"
Mom stared at me, speechless, unable to find her words.
Sarah was the first to react.
She scrambled to her feet, her face twisted with fury, and stormed toward us.
“Mabel, you wicked woman! You bring a stranger into the house and hit Luke? Just wait till I deal with you!”
Before she could land a blow, I grabbed her wrist.
“You still owe me for that slap you just gave her.”
Seeing his chance, the boy tried to pull me away from Sarah, desperate to defend her. Sarah wasn’t backing down.