Chapter 1

I look at the clock in the hallway. It was time to go to first period. Finally.

For obvious reasons, I hated just standing in the hallway not being able to talk to anyone.

I sort of keep to myself so I don't have to worry about anyone finding out about my parents. The less involved the better right?

Too many questions. Too many answers. Not enough acting skills.

It's just an easier lifestyle.

I could go to the police. I could tell the whole world about my parents. I'm not stupid. It's not like I couldn't construct a plan to get the police station before they noticed. I could even use my sister's phone saying I wanted to call a friend and actually call the police.

Everyone thinks that abused kids are idiots. You think we don't know that there are options. You think we don't know about the adults around. You think we aren't aware of the many phones around us that can be borrowed and used as an escape. You think we're just plain stupid? We're not.

I'm not saying there's a club specifically for genius neglected kids, we don't exactly meet up every week for a seminar, but I know how they think. It's how I think.

There's many things and reasons that go into an abused kid keeping his or her mouth shut.

Mine just happens to be this beloved sister you guys keep hearing about; I was sticking it out for her. I don't want us to end up in foster care, a lot of things can happen once we're in the system. One major thing is that we can be separated, and I just don't want that kind of life for her.

It would be ten times better than the life I have, but I can't only think of myself.

I walk to class with my head down. I had a new cut on my jawline, and I didn't want anyone to notice it. I didn't have much time to cover it up this morning because of how freaking sore I was.

Realistically, I could hardly walk to the bathroom to pee. I practically crawled and limped around my room. After a beating you don't really feel it, it's basically just a radiating numbness, all you can do is hope and pray that the next day you don't feel it either.

I always do.

You would think that after all these years my body would get used to it. I thought it would be just like the plot in those movies and books. But you never get used to it, you're never completely numb to it, there's always that sting or pinch. Always that reminder that you are living in hell.

My parents aren't mental. They don't hurt me because they're crazy and their psyche is all messed up. They hurt me because they want to. They think I deserve it. They find it funny. They're doing it for revenge, well at least my mother is.

I look down and I see my shoelace untied. How was I going to bend down? I was practically waddling.

You got this Jessie. Fight the power. You're a strong independent woman.

I guess I should also be happy I even got shoes.

They loved to deprive me simply to make me feel like less of a human.

No cell phone, no new clothes, no new shoes, no new school supplies, sometimes I don't even get to shower or eat.

It was effective, I felt like an animal most days.

Some nights when I lie in my freezing room, I dream that there's a warm feast laid out in front of me. It not only warms my skin, but it fills my dangerously empty stomach.

Dreams are not reality.

I bend down and immediately topple over because of the sudden dizziness. Thankfully, the hallway was nearly empty so not many teens saw my failure.

I wondered how it would feel to be allowed to make friends, to have acquaintances, to be able to actually talk and do something other than feel sorry for myself.

What was the mall like? How does it feel to just sit and breathe for a minute?

It was probably a bizarre sensation.

I get on my knee painfully and I tie my shoe, then use all my power, plus the lockers nearby, to stand up.

Quickly, to blend and remain invisible, I start speed walking to my class so I wouldn't be late.

It was more of a speed limp.

Coming to an abrupt halt, I start to see my nightmare approaching. It was almost like I was in a horror movie.

The nightmare had a black cloud behind it, carrying a devious devil smile, and one of the clouds had Prada heels and a Michael Kors purse. It killed all living things with each step. As it got closer the room got darker.

Unnoticeable bugs on the ceiling start raining down. The paint starts peeling. The kids start dropping in pain. Everything around us was dying because of their evil luminosity. You could hear tornadoes swarming, hurricanes forming, tsunamis racing, and earthquakes thumping.

Conservatively, the evil devils were holding a small, frail, innocent flower with a ray of sunshine on it. It was beautiful. Slowly blossoming and becoming a new. It was unnoticeably fighting to stay alive, fighting to stay innocent, fighting to stay pure and safe.

My head fell crooked as I stared at the poetically beautiful sight.

I knew that soon even the small ray of sunshine upon the flower wouldn't save it from the evil power.

The evil power was going to send it STRAIGHT UNDERGROUND WHERE IT HAD NO SUNSHINE, NO PROTECTION, AND EVERYTHING WAS DYING. WE WOULD ALL SOON BE DEAD AND---

I snap back into reality, blinking concisely, and see it was just my god-awful parents holding my little sisters hand walking down the halls.

Nothing was dying.

Except for me on the inside.

No one and nothing was dropping.

Except for my self esteem

No flower. No dark cloud. No death.

Not yet.

The evil monsters were rapidly approaching with sickly sweet smiles on their faces. I tried to unnoticeably hide under the hood of my sweater.

However, I realized they saw me leave the house. They know how I looked and how I was dressed today. There was no point in hiding.

Furthermore, they bought me the damn outfit even if it wasn't for the right reasons. It wasn't to please me; it was because I was finally getting too big to fit in Kaylee's clothes.

It's a peculiar thought because it's usually the younger siblings getting the hand-me-downs, but since I was basically bone and skin, it wasn't hard fitting my younger sisters' size.

I don't think you understand how hard it was to be in high school wearing glitter and sparkles from a children's clothing store.

Trying to run and hide would only worsen the situation, therefore I decided that I might as well suck it up and wait for them to do their worst.

Though I hid my feelings expertly, the loathing I felt was sporadically hard to contain. I hate it. I hate my situation with every particle in my body. I hate the act. I despised the fact that they could make people think we were an actual, real, and normal family.

It was hard helplessly watching a neighbor come around asking why there was so much yelling because I knew I couldn't say anything; I just had to listen to my mother conjure an excuse ranging from, "The girls are just playing very loudly, I apologize..." to, "I'm sorry, one of the girls fell and made sure to be very dramatic about it." Or something along those lines.

The only time I've ever heard them apologize was when they were lying.

I also couldn't stand how when the police are called, usually because of the blood around our trashcans or unusual weapons brought into our house, they're quick to reply with something simpleminded such as, "It's just a bunch of girls living through puberty..." or "Those whips? Well it's a kink..."

Everyone is so quick to believe them because who would dare admit to something so embarrassing.

Hate is a strong word, and we're always taught to say that we don't hate anything we just strongly dislike people's actions, or certain situations, but that's not the case, that's bullshit. We're human beings, we're allowed to hate, we're allowed to feel indignant, we should be allowed to storm around and be enraged. It's normal, but my family is not.

Normal families don't abuse their child because they think they are the cause of everything going wrong in the world. Normal families don't expect their child to be a picture-perfect robot. And normal families don't make it so blatantly obvious that they favor one of their kids over the other.

My parents do whatever they damn well please, and I don't say a word.

I could, but fear is constantly eating me up. Fear that it's the wrong choice, scared that it makes me weak.

Fear is horrible, it's like a worm or a bug that just keeps eating and eating at you, preventing you from doing anything about anything. It's like a soul sucking, life ruining zit, until finally... you shut off.

And while that one bug is eating you, sneakily, a new selfishly vicious bug is eating you because you don't know when it'll ever end.

Or if it'll end as a happily ever after.

As they get closer, I started to shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. I couldn't move or try and get to class because I would be punished and even if I wasn't scared of the punishment I was still terrified in general.

I live my life in dismay.

My only resolve is to lie and fake my way out of here. I could act but it wasn't Grammy worthy.

Lying to my parents became an everyday activity, it really wasn't even lying anymore it was simply surviving. My brain had to grow sharp. It was quick to come up with lies and excuses. I guess I was more like them then I would care to admit.

Taking a deep breath, I get out my polite voice from my little purse of untruthfulness and start to force it out as best as I could through gritted teeth.

"What are you doing here mom? Dad?"

Another thing I hate: Calling them "Mom" and "Dad."

This man, he's not my dad. He's actually my stepdad. I don't know why he insists on me calling him "Dad," it's not like he's proud to be my father. It's not like he wants me in his family or even loves me.

I assumed it was another play at making me feel like less of a person. A human is allowed to make decision for themselves, it's their right. Animals don't have that right; I don't have that right. I was hardly a person anymore.

My father bailed on us but at least he wasn't some horrible man that struck children.

My mother wasn't always so corrupted. This new personality was remarkably intimidating for young Jessica. The Jessica that still blew out candles for her birthday, wishing her father would come home.

Her sudden changes struck fear in me, made me uncomfortable, I couldn't recognize her anymore. I wanted her to go back to her old self. I wanted her to be the mother that I could sit with and talk to about my day, the one who would hug and kiss me when I was injured or damaged in general.

"We're pulling you both out of school for some family time." My mom sneers in her hoax civil voice.

It was almost like she was annoyed at me for asking. She expected me to see them and just start walking side by side with them going wherever they planned, like an obedient pet.

Her bag of untruthfulness was a lot bigger than mine and it held a lot more experience, but I could see right through her. Lousy no one else could.

The other kids in the hallway gazed jealously at us as they overheard that we were getting to leave school early.

If they actually knew what was going down, they would know that there was nothing to be jealous of, and they would know to stop with the glances and get as far away from this horror show as they could.

I was furious. Filled with rage I couldn't exempt because it would be like hitching a ride to the land of unconsciousness.

The only escape I have from these soul sucking, sleep depriving, life ruining monsters is school and now they plan to invade that too.

I couldn't even be a kid anymore. Crazily I don't even know what chocolate tastes like.

I wanted regular parents.

No actually I want to be a superhero, or a wizard. I would even be okay with being an elf.

Frankly, all I needed was parents who had their priorities straight. Not ones that got pissed because you said you were hungry— due to the fact that you weren't allowed breakfast or lunch.

Which was actually their fault.

But the ones who got livid when you got a C in math, or you used profanity in class by mistake.

If that were the case my parents would adore me. The things regular parents flipped their lids about like messy eating, bad grades, or attitude— basically the things regular teens do don't exist in my world. In a regular household I would be cherished.

I would be Kaylee.

Frustrated, I had to make up an excuse, and fast. It felt as if my wallet of lies was out of order.

"Uhh...uhh.."

Stop stuttering Jessica and say the first thing that comes to mind. If it's not believable you're stuck with them and you get beat for lying.

"I have a really important test. The teacher couldn't get enough talking about how important it was. She was warning us, saying it was worth like-- forty percent of our grade. I can't miss it."

My mom gave me the dirtiest glare she could substantiate while my sister rolled her eyes before she bent down to tie her shoe.

As she finished her perky body bounced right back up, her coiled curls moving with her as she raised her head to look at me.

"Come on Jess, one small test won't hurt, you can always take it tomorrow. This'll be fun. We get to miss school."

Most kids would be ecstatic that their parents are taking them out of school.

To me school isn't that bad, and it's not a huge deal. I mean it gets boring, and the amount of work is out of control but all I have to think about is seven hours away from them. Seven hours of freedom. Seven hours of me not actually getting yelled at and the agony of school is washed away. It starts to feel like paradise.

I sighed under my breath because I knew I would never win this fight and reluctantly nodded, treading alongside them.

I had my shoulders slumped and my hands in my pockets. My hair was in my face and I was defeated.

As we were walking, the psychotic woman that birthed me grabbed my hand and squeezed it as hard as she could in admonition. I felt my knuckles being squished together, and my hand bending in ways it shouldn't. I was almost sure I would get a compressed fracture.

She bent down close to me, and it seemed like a casual act on the outside. I was short compared to her so if she did actually have the intention of telling me something privately, this is how she would do it, but this was not a normal act.

She begins to hiss her words in my ear.

"Your little white lie won't go unpunished brat. I'm not an idiot and just wait till we're alone. I'll make sure you remember who you're dealing with."

I was many things, but I was not a brat. I didn't even have time for the tittle. I was already everything else. Insecure, terrified, anti-social. Brat did not exist in my vocabulary.

The thought of all the despicable things they would do to me, and how they would disgustingly enjoy it made my knees feel like buckling.

Most kids got reprimanded and were scared that their parents would take away their phones, but I had to be afraid that I would die today.

How was that fair?

Plus, it's Slash Party Wednesday, that's double the distress.

*******

Kaylee De La Cruz was a special kid. No, she was not mentally delayed or anything, though sometimes she did act like it. She was just simpleminded.

Though Kaylee and Jessica are both aware of the fact that they have different dads, it doesn't make them think any differently about each other.

They are still exponentially close. They're like Anna and Elsa, Ramona and Beezus, the two ugly stepsisters in Cinderella-- minus the ugly.

Kaylee loved her life, well maybe not loved, but she had a normal amount of fondness and was grateful for it.

Most things in life came easily for her, and she knew it. This was a big factor in both girls lives that affected them separately.

It was evident Kaylee was going to have a rude awakening when she saw that nothing in life was going to be handed to her on a silver platter.

Jessica hesitated to tell anyone her biggest, deepest, and darkest secret all for this very reason. She was looking out for her sister and she didn't want the life that she was so accustomed to, to be changed. The government system won't care if Kaylee wants fast food, or if Kaylee wants to go the mall with friends.

They need her alive and that's all. Privileges are for the privileged.

Kaylee knew very little because it was expertly hidden from her. It wasn't exactly her fault that she was in the dark.

She thought that she had the best parents and from her point of view, she did. It didn't matter what she did— she never got grounded, screamed at, or physically punished. She was automatically put on a pedestal once she was born and their mother decided she hated Jessica. Her parents were always jovial around her because they managed to get all of their anger out on the older kid.

Kaylee thought her parents were picture perfect. Any time a friend would ask why she never got spanked or reprimanded she ignorantly chimed:

"Why would a parent hit their child? My parents would never— They're basically the sweetest people in the world."

Blah blah, more or less.

She wasn't an idiot she was just annoyingly naïve.

Everything else in her life was pretty normal.

She had good friends, a close relationship with a boy she'd had a crush on since forever, and she has her sister. It was kind of adorable how much the girls loved each other. Considering the circumstances.

While Kaylee was naïve it didn't mean she didn't notice a few skeptical things going on. On some occasions she sensed and was left confused by the red flags set off in her mind by her parents.

For example:

*When she comes home, she has to go upstairs immediately, and she can't come down without announcing herself.

*She is never allowed in her parents' room. Or Jessica's bathroom.

*And her beloved sister is always covering herself up.

The last one always boggled her mind since they lived in New York and there was certainly no need to be in sweatpants and hoodies all year round.

She vaguely questioned the other house rules wondering why she had limitations in her own house.

It never really bothered or affected her, but she was very curious.

And well, curiosity killed the cat.