Mom, They Won't Mock You Anymore

Claire's First-Person POV

I hit the back of my head on the floor when the chair toppled over.

My vision darkened for a few seconds as I lay unmoving on the ground.

I wasn't dazed. I was just worried that Mom would think that I was just putting on an act if I got up too quickly. I didn't want her to think that the fall hadn't been nasty.

Our relatives whispered among themselves.

"Poor thing. She just took an extra piece."

"Did she have to punish her? It's Christmas Eve…"

My cousin, Amanda Crawford, was all smiles as she served herself a braised rib.

"She got what she deserved. She knows that Aunt Vera's biggest fear is being ridiculed, but she still acted out of line. She definitely deserves to be punished because of that."

I remained silent as I braced my hands on the floor and got back on my feet. I picked up the chair and sat down again.

Mom looked rather pleased by my reaction. She looked at our relatives and said, "We have to teach our children the proper rules. If I don't discipline her now, she'll be ridiculed in the future. She'll humiliate our entire family. See? She's behaving much better now after I punished her."

Her expression softened when she looked at Amanda. "Amanda's so mature. She never allows her parents to be ridiculed."

Amanda stuck her nose in the air as she shot a gleeful look at me. "You taught me well, Aunt Vera. I've always wanted to be your daughter. I'm not like a certain someone who doesn't know how lucky she is and keeps giving others chances to ridicule you."

My entire body trembled as they repeated the word "ridicule" over and over again.

I wasn't scared, but I felt like I was suffocating under their obsession of avoiding ridicule.

Mom's discipline took shape in the form of the bruises on my body and the chronic stress that seemed to have seeped into my very bones. Her concept of maturity was the way I had to pathetically control the way I breathed.

Her intense disciplinary methods caused me to be ostracized whenever we visited our relatives. No one dared to play with me because they were afraid that their own parents would follow Mom's example.

I huddled in a corner and clutched the hem of my clothes.

Most of our relatives had finished eating. They broke off into groups of twos and threes to sip tea and chat with each other.

I didn't dare move. I remained rooted to the spot, being a good daughter who didn't cause any trouble. I didn't want Mom to berate me for being immature. I didn't want her to be ridiculed by our relatives.

Amanda wandered over to my side when I was distracted. She lowered her voice and hissed, "You're nothing more than a burden, Claire Peterson. Aunt Vera is ridiculed everywhere she goes because of you."

Ridicule.

It was that word again.

My body shivered violently. I subconsciously dug my nails into my palm until I broke the skin. The blood that oozed out was wet and sticky.

My throat felt tight. I forced myself to sound calm as I retorted, "A burden? That's rich coming from someone whose parents don't love her."