My Family Forced Me To Submit A Blank Paper Chapter 1

My family always used me as an example to teach Yvette Langley, my twin sister, a lesson.

When we were little, my mom would purposely leave me alone on the street. She would let Yvette watch me break down in tears so she would learn never to wander off.

My brother, Martin Langley, would get kids from outside school to corner me in an alley. He wanted Yvette to see me get slapped and forced to my knees so she would learn to stay away from troublemakers.

So I became more and more timid, and they grew to like me less and less.

Then, the day before the SAT, my mom gave me an order I could not refuse. “Tomorrow, you’re going to turn in a blank SAT.”

I stared at her in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I asked, “Why?”

Martin sat beside her and spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Once you fail the SAT and have to struggle because you can’t get into college, Yvette will learn to appreciate her chance to go to college. She’ll work harder and become a better student.

“We need you to push her forward.”

They talked about sacrificing my future as if it were nothing.

My heart sank. I had held everything inside for nineteen years. That last thread finally snapped. All I felt was heartbreak.

That was when I finally decided to leave my family behind, the family that had always sacrificed me for Yvette.

* * *

When I did not answer, Yvonne, my mom, gave me a shove.

“Did you hear him?”

I clenched my fist at my side. “What about my future?”

Both my parents and Martin froze.

It was as if they had only just remembered that I had a future to worry about too.

My mom clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“If you’re not going to college, then get a job. Your uncle owns a cement factory. You can work there and haul bags of cement. It’ll be good for you. You’ll get some exercise.”

I looked up sharply.

Tears filled my eyes.

Martin stepped forward. He was never as harsh or cold as my mom.

He had always been gentle with me. He never seemed to think I deserved any less than Yvette.

But that was exactly what made his treatment of me so cruel.

He would hurt me, then offer me a little kindness. That kind of treatment left me so confused that I did not even know where to begin fighting back.

Martin reached out and rubbed my head.

“Come on. There’s nothing wrong with working at the factory. You can still come home whenever you want.

“Once Yvette goes to college, she won’t be able to stay with us the way you can.”

But I felt like I was suffocating.

My face grew paler.

It had always been this way for years. When I was little, they purposely left me alone so I would get lost. When I got older, they purposely had those thugs bully me.

They even wanted to sacrifice my future too.

“I don’t want to.”

It was the first time I had ever refused them. They all stared at me in shock for several seconds.

Robert, my dad, had been drinking his tea. He suddenly slammed the cup onto the floor beside my feet, and his face darkened. “We’ve raised you for nineteen years! You don’t have the right to refuse!”

My mom frowned. “Natalie, be sensible.”

Martin pressed his lips together and shook his head. “We’ve already made our decision. You don’t get a choice.”

I stood there and faced all three of them.

The broken pieces of the cup cut my ankle. A sharp pain shot through my leg, and blood seeped from the wound.

But no one cared.

I lowered my eyes and gave a bitter smile. “I understand.”

Only then did the tension leave their faces.

Yvette Langley sat on the soft couch. She ate cake as she watched everything unfold. Finally, she smiled.

“Then I’ll leave it to you. Don’t worry. Once I get to college, I’ll work hard. I’ll make sure I learn from your example.”

I took a deep breath and forced down my sadness before I went back to the room that had once been a storage closet.

The damp, musty smell hit me as soon as I opened the door.

I had lived with that smell for more than a decade, so I was used to it.

There were no windows. The only ventilation came from a rattling fan that made an awful noise.

I closed the door.

My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor. Teardrops fell onto my knees.

All I could hear was the laughter of the other four people in my family.

I remembered what happened in middle school, when a group of thugs cornered me.

There were five of them. Each one slapped me across the face. No matter how much I begged them to stop, they did not care.

They kept shouting, “Hit her harder! That guy said we’d get more money if we hurt her more!”

I never remembered how long they kept hitting me.

I could only recall curling up on the ground with my arms over my head as punches and kicks came down on me. The pain was unbearable. I would never forget it.

After they left, Martin showed up with Yvette. She looked a little scared.

He pointed at me and said, “See that, Yvette? Stay away from thugs like them when you grow up. Got it?”

Yvette nodded quickly.

Then they left without giving me another look.

When I finally stumbled home with bruises all over me, the four of them were sitting around the table and enjoying a big dinner together.

The pain in my ankle brought me back to the present.

I gave a bitter smile.

This time, they had taken away my chance to take the SAT. Once again, they were sitting outside and enjoying a big dinner as if nothing had happened.

I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears.

I packed all the supplies I would need for the SAT the next day. Then I lay down on my damp bed and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I was about to leave when I realized there was no room for me in the car.

My mom waved her hand impatiently. “There’s no room. Take the bus.”

Before closing the door, Martin warned me, “Remember what we talked about yesterday. Turn in a blank test or write random answers.”

Then they drove away with a very proud-looking Yvette.

I tightened my grip on the printout with my SAT registration details and looked away.

I would not turn in a blank test, and I would never again let myself be the sacrifice my family used to teach Yvette a lesson.