My Parents Have Double Standards

I didn't push the door open.

Still holding the glass of milk, I quietly returned to my attic room.

The attic was tiny, stifling in the summer, and drafty in the winter. A single wooden bed took up nearly half the space.

Jenny's room was downstairs. It faced the south, where the winter sun streamed in.

That was the result of one of our lottery draws.

Three years ago, when I had just returned to the Schmidt family, Mom held my hands and said I had suffered a lot with tears in her eyes.

Dad stood beside her. Even his usually stern face softened with emotion.

Jenny called my name sweetly and eagerly showed me her closet full of new dresses and shelves packed with books.

At the time, I thought I was the happiest girl in the world.

That very evening, Mom announced the family's new rule.

"To be fair, and to put Jenny's mind at ease, from now on, every important matter in this family will be decided by drawing lots."

She retrieved a wooden tube containing two drawing sticks.

"The red stick means the better outcome, and the white stick means the worse one. Whoever draws red is simply lucky. Whoever draws white has no one to blame."

The very first drawing was for the bedrooms.

"There aren't any extra rooms in the house. There's only one south-facing bedroom and one attic."

Mom looked at Jenny. "Christina has just come home, and she's the older sister. Why don't you let her draw first?"

Jenny smiled and nodded.

I remember thinking then that having a younger sister wasn't so bad.

Mom handed me the wooden tube. After taking a deep breath, I reached inside and pulled out a stick.

It was white.

After that, she never handed the tube to Jenny.

"Jenny, there's no need for you to draw. Since your sister got the white stick, the red one naturally belongs to you."

"Thank you, Mom!" Jenny happily wrapped her arms around Mom's. She never even touched the wooden tube.

I carried my small bundle up to the attic while telling myself it was only the first time. I had simply been unlucky.

Next time would surely be different.

But for three whole years, my luck never changed.

Lying on my bed, I stared at the slanted rafters as tears silently slipped down my face.

Mom's words echoed repeatedly in my mind.

'Christina spent fifteen years in the countryside. She's used to it.'

She said I was used to it.

It turned out that in their eyes, the suffering I had endured was only natural.