Chapter 2

Kelly's POV

By the time we got home, it was already late.

After a long, exhausting day, my leg hurt so badly that I couldn't even stand.

Mom and Dad were busy fussing over Noah and Amanda. When they finally noticed me, I'd already been sitting on the couch for two hours.

Mom cleared her throat, her expression softening slightly.

But before she could say anything, Amanda's eyes filled with tears. She slammed her cup down and yelled at me, "Kelly, are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me into giving up my room now?"

She stormed toward the stairs. Mom hurried to stop her, then turned back and slapped me across the face.

I could tell Mom regretted it the moment her hand came down. The slap was barely more than a light brush against my cheek, but it hurt somewhere much deeper.

My voice trembled as I explained, "Mom, I wasn't trying to take Amanda's room. My leg just hurt so much that I couldn't stand."

Amanda gave a sarcastic laugh. "What a coincidence. You just happened to be unable to stand, and you just happened to sit there facing my room for two hours."

Mom gritted her teeth, her voice turning cold again. "If she wants to put on a show, let her. Let's see if she can spend the whole night sitting on that couch."

With that, Mom pulled Amanda away.

As Noah walked past me, he bumped into my injured leg. I couldn't tell if it was on purpose or by accident. I gasped in pain.

He looked down at me and sneered. "Kelly, you've used that leg to get Mom and Dad's attention and favoritism for ten years. Now that we're taking a little of it back, you can't even handle that?"

I said nothing. The ache in my chest was worse than the one in my leg.

I suddenly remembered when we were buying a house after that fire. Mom and Dad had insisted on this two-story house Amanda loved.

When it was time to decide who would get which room, Dad had approached me cautiously. He said Amanda liked having plenty of natural light, while Noah needed a bigger room for his computer. The only room left was a tiny, windowless room on the second floor.

Mom even came up with a convenient excuse. "Kelly, the upstairs room is perfect for you. Going up and down the stairs will be good exercise for your leg.

"We're only arranging it this way because we care about you. If we give you special treatment and Noah and Amanda find out, they'll probably make a fuss again."

Sitting in the dark living room, I tried to steady my breathing. But tears still fell onto the back of my hand.

My parents had favored me over them for ten years? Why hadn't I felt it at all?

It was well past midnight when Mom walked toward the trash can with my medication. Her eyes met mine, and for a second, she looked a little guilty. But she quickly hardened her expression again.

"Noah and Amanda have colds, and their medicine needs room. Yours take up way too much space in the medicine cabinet.

"Your dad and I talked about it all night. We agree that all three kids should be treated equally. We can't keep giving you special treatment just because of your leg. Kelly, do you understand what I'm saying?"

I looked at the painkillers sitting in the trash can. Those were the pills I relied on to keep the agonizing pain at bay so I could get through the day. Instead of arguing, I just murmured, "Yeah."

I was leaving soon anyway. They could have the space.