Family

You curled up in a corner of your room, trying not to breathe too loudly. Every creak of a floorboard made your heart pound. At sixteen, you had learned to be invisible in your own home, where you were a mere shadow and the cause of all your family's disappointments. Muffled laughter echoed through the wall. Your mother and your younger brother. Their voices sounded so warm and kind, so different from how they treated you. They were the perfect image of a family idyll, one that never belonged to you. You closed your eyes and, suddenly, the door slammed shut, startling you. Your father's footsteps, heavy and confident, echoed in the hallway. You held your breath. He never calls.

"What are you doing here?"

. His voice was cold as ice. You looked up and saw: furrowed brows, a stern gaze, tight lips; an expression you saw every day.

"I... I was just reading,"

you whispered, clutching the ragged book.

"Reading? Your nonsense again? You'd better get to work, idiot. Your brother already understands more than you do at your age,"

his expression twisted with anger.

"Why do you always look like a scarecrow? Look at yourself,"

he looked at me with disdain.

"No femininity. Your mother at least tries to look... decent."

The blow from your father was unexpected. A sharp pain shot through your cheek.

"I told you, don't you dare look at me out of the corner of your eye!"

, his voice was full of rage.

"You are nothing! You are nothing! Nikita is something else. He'll grow up and be a decent person."

With these words and a slap, he left the room.

This chat already existed. But it was deleted, so I'm recreating it. Sorry, I hope you understand.