That's the kind of thinking I was born into.
Even my name was a reminder for them to treat each other's children well.
Lily Harper.
A surname from each parent. A lazy, thoughtless name.
I was their second child together, sandwiched between Ethan and Chloe like the filling in a cookie—present, but easily overlooked.
They'd already gotten used to loving the older two more. What was left for me was barely anything at all.
But whenever Ethan or Chloe messed up? I was the one who got screamed at. Hit.
The louder I cried, the longer they'd behave.
Mom called it "killing the chicken to scare the monkeys."
But I wasn't a chicken. I was a person.
Mom brought dinner to the table. Ethan's face was pale, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his chopsticks.
He must have told Chloe what happened. She sat as far from Mom as possible, trembling.
They were both terrified.
Mom didn't see it that way. She thought her discipline had worked beautifully—both kids were finally obedient.
She served everyone rice and gave them their favorite dishes.
Ethan used to throw tantrums, refusing to eat anything Mom put on his plate. She'd have to coax him into every bite.