“How dare you hit Erica? Who do you think you are, harming my precious daughter?” my mother shouted, her eyes blazing with rage and disgust.
“What kind of behavior is this? This is not acceptable in this house!” my father exclaimed, pulling Erica into his arms. His gaze was filled with disbelief and disappointment as he held her tightly.
I hung my head, stunned into silence. I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. Before I could say anything, Everett grabbed me by the arm and dragged me down the hall, throwing me to the floor. The pain in my heart was worse than the physical ache in my body.
I wanted to explain it, to defend myself, but it felt like something was lodged in my throat, keeping me from speaking. Meanwhile, my mother turned to Erica, gently holding her hand and caressing her cheek. As she comforted her adopted daughter, her anger and hatred for me flowed freely.
“I regret ever bringing you back,” she said, her voice full of bitter rage. “I should have known that someone raised in a bad place would grow up to be the same. Look at you—attacking your own sister!”