The Punching Bag in This Loving Family Chapter 2

Mom froze for an instant before shrieking so loudly I felt like my eardrums were about to burst.

"What did you say?"

Holding back tears, I slowly turned back to face her. My face was still red and swollen from her slap.

"Can you really call someone who gets beat up every day 'lucky'?" I asked.

"Would you be getting beaten up if you didn't always talk back to me? You asked for it."

This time, I didn't cower away like before.

Instead, I replied slowly and clearly, "Maybe it's not that I asked for it. Maybe it's because I'm the only one in the family you have the guts to bully."

Mom's expression stiffened for an instant, but she quickly descended into a rage. She acted as if I'd said something terribly despicable.

"You might as well tell me to die!" she wailed.

Dad slammed open the bathroom door and rushed inside. He approached me with a livid expression.

I couldn't stop myself from trembling uncontrollably.

He looked at me for all of two seconds before kicking me over.

I let out a wretched scream as I slammed into the solid bathroom wall. The smooth tiles reflected my tortured expression.

Dad then hit my face over and over with a slipper.

"How dare you talk back to your mother? Do you have any idea how much effort we put into raising you? And yet, you're constantly causing trouble for us!" he yelled.

Mom stood behind him with her arms crossed, looking satisfied.

"Don't hold back. I've honestly had just about enough of her over the past few months. She's been taking advantage of her hospitalization to do as she pleases, but it's not her place to give us attitude."

My lip had split, and I was overcome by waves of dizziness. Only the sound of short laughter reached my ears from time to time.

James and Susan were having a conversation on the other side of the wall.

They were aware that I was being beaten, but they didn't care, because it had nothing to do with them.

With my hands slowly clenching into fists, I closed my eyes and allowed my body to slide downward.

Mom got me five days off from school because my facial injuries were too serious.

On the third day, my friends came to visit me.

When the door opened, they were momentarily stunned.

The wounds on my face had closed up. but the bruises were still visible.

I felt embarrassed, but before I could say a word, Mom brushed me aside and led my friends inside.

"What are you spacing out for? Go get your friends something to drink," she ordered.

I began, "Mom, just let them—"

"Oh, now you're embarrassed?" Mom asked with a laugh.

It was like she'd found my weakness and couldn't wait to air her grievances to my friends.

She told them, "Since you're all Lili's good friends, I'll be honest with you. She's not on leave because she was sick but because her father beat her up. If I hadn't felt bad and stepped in, she'd probably be fighting for her life right now."

My friends all looked toward me in unison, each wearing different expressions ranging from distress and shock to disbelief.

At school, I was a merit student who excelled in academics and boasted great character. At home, I lived a life worse than an animal's.

Mom continued, "She only has herself to blame. We give her all the best things, but she's not satisfied with that and will even criticize us, her parents."

I hung my head low and said in a choked voice, "Mom, that's enough…"

Mom paused before raising her voice even further. "She's so spoiled that she refuses to do even the smallest of chores when we ask. What's the point of us raising such an ungrateful child?"

Dad took the drink from my hand and placed it in front of my friends with a kindly expression.

"We're the only ones who can put up with her. In fact, even her older siblings don't have the courage to cross her. Do all of you often have to make concessions for her too?" he asked.

He smiled cheerily at them, trying to coax them into saying something that would put me on the spot. It was all to validate their own so-called good intentions.

I was rooted to the spot, trembling from head to toe.

My friends looked awkwardly at me, unsure what to say.

Some of them even looked like they were on the verge of tears.

However, Mom continued pressing them enthusiastically. "Come on. Tell us. You have nothing to fear. Are there any stories of her petty behavior and unreasonable demands you'd like to share with us?"

Not a single one of my friends answered.

My deskmate, Tina Graham, mustered up the courage to move over to me and hold my hand.

"You should come out with us for a breather. It's Selene's birthday today, so let's celebrate together," she said gently.

Mom stood up, and her expression was dark.

"She can't leave. She still has to make dinner later."

She didn't get the answers she wanted, so her patience was running out.

"It's getting late, so you should all go home," she added.

Selene, whose full name was Selene Elmsworth, bit her lip.

Eventually, she decided to ask anyway, "Mrs. Chase, could you allow Lili to come out and relax for a bit?"

Mom was momentarily stunned.

Then, as if she'd just heard something ridiculous, she asked snidely, "Why would she need to relax? We're the ones who need some time out!"

The more she thought about it, the more aggrieved she felt, until she eventually shouted at me, "What are your friends trying to imply? Did our family put you through any misery? Did we do wrong by you? What have you been telling them?"

Tina piped up frantically, "That's not what we meant. We just wanted to—"