Chapter 1
My dad had a mistress.
I knew about this since kindergarten. My mom would cry and threaten suicide every other day.
Later, one afternoon, she heard my dad was at a hotel with that woman and rushed over. But then a once-in-a-century earthquake struck.
My mom was crushed under a concrete slab and lost a leg. My dad and his mistress escaped unscathed.
It was May 12, 2008, in Hanwang, Sichuan province.
That year, there were many heartwarming stories in the news.
Influenced by the overall atmosphere, my dad didn’t divorce.
But my mom lost her job due to her disability. Her personality became even more volatile and weak. She would threaten suicide frequently, saying she wanted to die to spite my dad.
The following year, my dad divorced my mom against all odds and married that woman, moving to a new city.
I went with my dad.
First, because my dad was in a better financial situation, while my mom had no job.
Second, my mom didn’t want me. She said I was from the Parker family, so why should she raise a Parker child?
As for that woman…
Her name was Bella White. She was my mom’s best friend. When she got together with my dad, she was already married. In other words, she and my dad were having an affair with each other.
When she married into our family, she brought along a daughter who was the same age as me, just two months younger. She claimed the girl was my dad’s child.
From then on, I had a stepmother and a stepsister.
What’s it like having a stepmother?
Like the evil queen in Snow White, always plotting to kill the daughter of the original wife?
Or treating the original wife’s daughter like her own, no matter how much the daughter hates or mistreats her, always having a kind and forgiving heart, leading to a happy ending?
Reality isn’t so extreme.
It’s hard for anyone to be completely fair, let alone a woman who had an affair and even stole her best friend’s husband. What could you expect?
Those years…
Whatever my stepsister had, I had too!
Whatever my stepsister didn’t have, I still had!
My stepsister’s clothes would eventually become my clothes. When they were old, short, or no longer liked, they became mine.
My stepsister was a picky eater. The dishes she didn’t want to eat, leftover snacks, stationery she thought was ugly or didn’t like - those all became mine.
We were in the same school and same class. Everyone knew we were sisters. Some people secretly asked me: “Zoe, were you adopted?”
“No.”
“If not, why do you always take Olivia’s leftovers?”
I explained over and over that I was my dad’s biological daughter, that my mom was my dad’s legal wife, and that Olivia’s mom was the mistress who stole my dad.
This spread quickly, passing through countless mouths, embellished countless times. By the time it reached my ears again, it was completely distorted.
Because of this, Olivia became famous at school. Many people cursed her for being the daughter of a mistress, stealing what belonged to others.
My dad and stepmom beat me harshly. They said I was an ungrateful wretch, that when they divorced they shouldn’t have kept me, they should have left me to fend for myself with my crippled mom.
They transferred Olivia to the best and most expensive private school in the area. Her clothes, shoes, and stationery were all replaced with better ones.
My stepmom said to give me the old ones.
Olivia screamed, smashing the old stationery on the ground, using scissors to cut up the clothes, poking holes in the shoes, saying she’d rather destroy them than give them to me.
I stood at the bedroom door. Not waiting for Olivia to finish her tantrum, I turned and went back to my room.
This was my and Olivia’s room: “Two closets, one bed, one floor mat.”
The bed had a pink mosquito net and matching pink bedding.
The first time I lay on that bed, it felt so comfortable! Lying there, I felt like I had become a princess.
A few minutes later, Olivia screamed again: “Zoe Parker! You rotten person, how dare you sleep on my bed? Get off right now!”
My stepmom ran in with Olivia. Together, they grabbed my hair and dragged me off the bed, throwing me to the floor.
I clutched my aching scalp, looking at them defiantly and angrily: “I’ve been sleeping on the floor for 4 years. It’s time I slept on the bed!”
Back then, when we first moved to this city and this home, my dad and stepmom had told me and Olivia to discuss who would sleep on the bed and who on the floor, or to take turns.
I was so stupid!
I volunteered to let Olivia have the bed. My dad and stepmom praised me greatly, saying I was sensible and knew to let my sister have it.
To get their praise, many things after that followed the same pattern.
New clothes - Olivia wears them first. New stationery - Olivia uses it first. New toys - Olivia plays with them first… Whatever Olivia doesn’t want, don’t waste it, just give it to me…
In this family, I was basically treated like a beggar.
My stepmom walked up to me and kicked me, looking down at me condescendingly: “Zoe Parker, people need to know their place. In our family, you’re just a dog.”
“If we want to keep you, you’re a house dog. If we don’t want to keep you, you’re a stray dog.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word dripped with viciousness.