The slap sent me crashing to the ground, the sting so sharp it took my breath away.
"Oh, dear lord! How could you do this, Betty?" Mom's voice was thick with disbelief. She couldn't fathom that her own daughter would do something so cruel.
"What were you thinking?" Her voice cracked with anger and a deep, cutting disappointment that shattered me more than the slap.
I looked up at her, wanting to explain and scream the truth. But the words stuck in my throat, tangled in the pain and humiliation.
Behind her, Ginny was smirking.
She always wore that smug, victorious smile when she knew she had won.
And maybe she had...
Dad and Charlie appeared in the doorway, their faces taut with concern.
"Ginny, sweetie, what happened?" Dad asked, his voice softening as he crouched down to her level.
Ginny, still sniffling, pulled a piece of candy from her pocket, her eyes glistening with fake tears.
"I just wanted to give this to her… to say sorry… but she said I stole all your love, and then she started hitting me..."
I felt my blood boil. My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, rage surging through me.
"You're a liar! You hit me! You're the one who did that to yourself!" I yelled, but it was like shouting into the void.
Dad's face turned an alarming shade of red, his anger bubbling over.
"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the cramped attic. He grabbed my shirt, yanking me down to my knees. "How did you turn into such a liar? How could you be so cruel?!"
My tears flowed freely, each a mix of frustration and pain. My whole body trembled with the weight of it all.
When Dad finally let go of me, he turned back to Ginny, his voice shifting to a soothing tone.
"Ginny, sweetie, don't be scared. If she hits you, you can hit her back. It's only fair."
His words struck me like a punch to the gut, and the attic spun as I tried to process what I was hearing.
Dad was telling her to hurt me more?
I looked up at Dad, trying to recognize him—the man who used to lift me high, spinning me around until I giggled so hard my sides hurt.
Was that really the same dad? I searched his face, but all I saw was coldness.
Ginny was beside him, looking like the perfect little victim. Tears were streaming down her face, and her head was shaking like she was devastated. She was always good at that—playing pitiful.
And it worked. Because without even thinking, Dad grabbed her hand and… started using it to slap me.