Chapter 2Lesson One: Stop Needing Me

Biscuit crawled out from behind the sofa, planted himself in front of my legs, and started barking aggressively at the door.

I gently pushed him behind me.

"Whatever you want to say, say it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" my father bellowed through the heavy wood.

"Your sister is being held by hotel security because she can't pay the bill, and you are hiding in there playing dead?!"

I looked through the peephole. His face was twisted into a vicious, ugly snarl.

My mother was standing right behind him.

"Fine, you don't have to open the door today," her voice cut through the wood, entirely devoid of warmth.

"But that house your grandmother left behind was never supposed to go to you in the first place."

My fingertips slowly slid off the deadbolt.

"What are you talking about?"

My mother completely dropped the act.

"That old woman was always horribly biased toward you."

"Lexi is the one who needs to finish college, establish her career, and marry into a good family. You are a washed-up spinster who is never getting married. What right do you have to hoard a whole house to yourself?"

I didn't answer.

A split second later, I heard the metallic click of a key turning in the lock.

I stumbled back.

The door swung open.

My mother was holding a shiny spare key, a cold, triumphant smirk plastered across her face.

It hit me like a physical blow. Last month, she had visited, claiming she just wanted to see if I was living comfortably. She had wandered into my bedroom alone.

That was when she stole my emergency spare key.

My father stormed into the living room and immediately backhanded me across the face.

The slap echoed like a gunshot. A high-pitched ringing pierced my eardrums. The left side of my face instantly ignited in blistering heat, and the sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

He pointed a thick finger at my face.

"You think you have the right to lock me out?!"

Biscuit lunged forward, baring his teeth and barking fiercely to protect me.

My father spun around, grabbing a heavy glass ashtray off the coffee table.

"Shut up, you useless mutt!"

I lunged to stop him, but I was a second too late.

The solid glass smashed directly into Biscuit's hind leg.

The dog let out an agonizing, piercing yelp. His claws frantically scraped against the hardwood floor, but his back leg completely gave out. He couldn't stand up.

"Biscuit!"

I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around his trembling body.

My father just marched over to my work desk and swept his arm across the surface.

My company laptop crashed onto the floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of dead pixels. It held the final, unsaved draft of a massive project I had spent the last three months agonizing over.

I reached out to salvage the pieces, but my fingertip grazed the broken glass, slicing open a deep, bleeding gash.

My mother just stood in the doorway, watching me bleed with absolute indifference.

"Don't blame us for this, Sloane."

"If you had just listened and behaved, Lexi wouldn't have been humiliated at that hotel tonight."

I looked up at her, my vision blurry with tears of pure rage.

"So you smash up my home, break my dog's leg, and then demand I behave?"

"Your home?"

My father stomped his heavy boot directly onto the shattered laptop screen. The plastic casing let out a sickening crunch.

"You have my blood in your veins. Everything you own belongs to me."

"Bring your ID and the deed to the county clerk's office tomorrow at ten in the morning. We are transferring the title to Lexi."

My mother had already walked into my bedroom. I heard drawers being yanked open and the annoyed clicking of her tongue as she rummaged through my things.

A few minutes later, she walked out holding my old iPad. She shoved it roughly into her designer tote bag.

"You care so much about your pride, right?" she sneered. "Let's see what your coworkers think of you tomorrow when I show them what kind of monster you really are."

Before stepping out into the hallway, my father slipped the stolen house key into his jacket pocket.

"Ten o'clock tomorrow. If you don't show up, I am going to your office building with a megaphone and a protest banner."

The front door slammed shut.

The only sound left in the ruined apartment was Biscuit's suppressed, agonizing whimpers.

I gently scooped him into my arms and walked out the door.

Grams had told me to lock the door when people tried to bully me. But this time, closing the door wasn't going to be enough.

I was going to throw them out of my life entirely.