“YOU NEED TO LEARN RESPECT,” My Mother Hissed, Pinning Me Down As My Stepdad Heated The Metal Rod. I Was 15 When They Scarred My Back For Defending My Little Sister. When The Judge Saw The Evidence Today, Their Perfect Family Facade Crumbled. Now They’ll Learn What Real Pain Feels Like.

He looked at me like I was something moldy he had found in the refrigerator and ordered me to go back to my room. “No,” I replied firmly, which caused my mother to finally turn around and lean against the counter with a tired expression.

“Elena, do not make this any uglier than it needs to be,” my mother said as she dried her hands on a dish towel.

I remember the yellow light over the stove and my own heartbeat feeling like it was inside my teeth as I told him not to touch my sister. Franklin smiled his cruelest smile and asked if I thought being bigger meant I could speak over him in his own house.

My mother folded the towel neatly and suggested that maybe I needed a lesson in respect since I was being so defiant. That was the moment I realized no one was going to back down, and my mother caught my wrist to help Franklin drag me toward the living room.

The betrayal of her touch lived in me sharper than the rest because while Franklin hurting me was familiar, her helping him never felt normal. They pushed me down while Marcus opened the fireplace tool stand and pulled out the decorative iron with our last name worked into the metal.