Chapter 6: Milk and Broken Glass

After parting unhappily with Derek, I wandered home.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw Mrs. Carter handing Natalie a glass of milk.

Her gaze was gentle as she stroked Natalie’s long hair.

"In a bit, Mom will take you to Mrs. Bailey’s. She says you’re making great progress, but don’t get cocky—keep working hard! By the way, do you really not know that boy from earlier? Give Mom your phone, let me check! Natalie, this is a crucial time, don’t end up like Lillian, hanging around with those shady boys! Lillian is already ruined, Mom only has you left. You have to make us proud! Okay, drink your milk while it’s hot!"

Mrs. Carter had already noticed me.

But she didn’t care—she even rolled her eyes at me with disdain.

I thought to myself, since I’m already the ruined daughter, I won’t take the blame for nothing!

So I stepped forward, snatched the glass from Natalie’s hand, and smashed it on the floor!

The milk splattered everywhere, white foam pooling on the linoleum. The crash echoed in the kitchen. For a second, everyone froze—Natalie’s eyes wide, Mrs. Carter’s hand still in mid-air.

"Lillian, what are you doing?!"

Mrs. Carter shrieked, hysterical.

I raised my eyebrows.

"From now on, if I can’t have this milk, neither can Natalie!"

Did I ever drink milk as a kid?

I can’t remember.

Anyway, as far back as I can remember, I never got anything good at home.

All the good food, balanced meals—whenever I reached for them, Mrs. Carter would slap my hand away.

"What are you eating for? That’s for Natalie! You eating it is a waste! Better to feed it to the dog—at least the dog guards the house. What can you do?"

At first, I’d cry and make a scene.

But all I got was a beating.

Mrs. Carter always hit me hard.

She’d raise her hand high, the slap landing with a loud crack, turning my face to the side, my whole face and head going numb.

"Lillian, are you rebelling? You want milk? Think about it—do your grades deserve it? Still want to compare with Natalie? Look at yourself! Get out, you’re not welcome here!"

She’d grab the yardstick from the table to hit me.

This time, I didn’t just take it—I ran, knocking over tables, chairs, vases as I went.

The house filled with crashing sounds, more and more chaotic.

Mrs. Carter screamed and chased me.

No matter how wild things got, Natalie just sat quietly, watching, not helping or stopping anyone, even picking up a book to read like it had nothing to do with her.

Until I snatched her phone.

Finally, she looked up at me.

A moment of confusion in her cold gaze, then stiffness.

She just stared stiffly as I ran into her room with her phone, slamming the door shut.

First thing, I wanted to lock the door.

But the lock was broken—there was no lock at all!

I could only press my back hard against the door.

Outside was Mrs. Carter’s kicking and cursing.

A twisted, triumphant smile spread across my face. I opened the phone and shouted:

"Hello, 911? My mom’s going to kill me! Please come quickly, save me!"