The Day Mom Cut My Last Lifeline

"What are you running for? Over some damn animal? You really think you can do whatever you want now?"

Mom caught up from behind and grabbed a fistful of my hair. She yanked my head back, forcing me to look up at her twisted face.

"Where's Tangy?" I screamed, my voice coming out weak and trembling.

"I dumped it! I got rid of it ages ago!" she yelled, slamming a hand into my back, shoving me so hard I stumbled forward. "Why should I raise your cat for you? I don't owe you that!"

Dad rushed out of the house and kicked the back of my knee. "Enough with the screaming. Haven't you embarrassed us enough?"

I crashed to my knees, the impact splitting the skin and drawing blood.

The neighbors had started peeking out to watch.

In an instant, Mom's face changed into one of heartbreaking concern. "My daughter's having another psychotic episode. She came home and started going crazy. Don't worry, everyone. We'll get her inside and make her take her medicine."

The neighbors exchanged sympathetic looks.

"Kids these days are so fragile."

"The Coopers really have it rough."

The front door slammed shut. I was thrown onto the living room floor. My back slammed into the corner of the coffee table, and a blinding wave of pain swallowed my vision.

Mom looked down at me from above. "Got all brazen now that you're in college, huh? You're giving me an attitude over a damn cat?"

I looked up and met her eyes. "Tangy got me through the hardest time in my life."

"Got you through it?" Dad boomed, pulling off his belt and cracking it through the air. "You remember every little thing that cat ever did for you, yet you have no memories of how we fed, clothed, and raised you all these years."

I started shaking. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, but I still couldn't stop trembling.

"I do…" I said, my voice weakening. "I remember."

I remembered every good thing they had said they had done for me. So, every time they beat me or cursed at me, I would desperately remind myself that I had to be grateful. I had to appreciate how hard they had worked.

I grabbed my hair and yanked hard, as if I could tear those voices out of my head. "I remember it all…"

I shook my head frantically, my words tumbling over each other. "I was never ungrateful. I've always been trying…"

I had always tried to get top grades, tried not to be a burden, tried to hide my feelings, and tried to become the person they wanted me to be.

Mom reacted as if she had just heard a joke. "There she goes again, putting on another show."

She folded her arms, her face full of disdain.

I opened my mouth, yet no word rolled off my tongue. My breathing quickened, and the edges of my vision darkened. I knew I was about to lose my breath again.

Mom kicked the coffee table with a loud bang.

"Stuart, she needs another beating," she said coldly. "Just don't hit her face. We're going to Pete's tomorrow. Won't look good if she has bruises on her face."

The leather belt came down hard across my back. I clenched my teeth and stayed silent because I knew there was no point in crying out.

When I was little, I would scream that it hurt, and they would say I was faking it. Later, when I stopped making a sound, they said I had become sullen.

After more than a dozen lashes, Dad finally stopped, gasping for air. "Go. Eat."

On the table was a plate of cilantro pork chop. I had hated cilantro ever since I was little. The smell alone made me want to barf.

Mom shoved the plate toward me. "They don't cater to picky eaters in college. Starting today, you're going to learn. Otherwise, you'll just embarrass yourself out in the real world."

"I'm not eating it."

Dad slammed his palm onto the table. "You think you get a say?"

Mom picked up her cutlery and sliced up the pork chop for me. "Eat. You're not going back to your room until you finish every bite."

I stared at the pungent pile of green and suddenly missed Tangy so much that it hurt. If he were still around, he would be nudging my hand with his damp, dainty nose right about now.

Every time I was sad, he always tried to comfort me in his own clumsy way.

I shoveled the cilantro into my mouth along with my tears and snot. My stomach churned with nausea, but I forced myself to swallow every bite.

Mom frowned in disgust. "Look at you, eating like it's torture. I swear, depression is just what happens when people are spoiled."

She snatched up my phone and unlocked it with my fingerprint like it was second nature. "Let's see what you've been doing behind our backs at college."

I sat there, my mind blank. The voices around me faded in and out. Then, suddenly, Mom smacked me on the back.

I couldn't hold it in, so the cilantro I had just forced down came right back up.

Mom looked at the mess with disgust before pinching me hard. "Your roommate invited you to the movies. Since when do you have money for that?"

"I worked part-time," I answered hoarsely.

She snapped her head up. "You skipped studying to work a part-time job?"

She hurled my phone at me, smashing it into the corner of my eye before clattering onto the floor. I stared at the shattered screen, which still displayed Tangy's picture.

Something inside me collapsed.

Pointing a finger at me, Mom enunciated, "We're going to your Uncle Pete's tomorrow. After that, I'll settle the score with you."