When I told my mother that I had bought a house, after saving for ten years to achieve it, she grabbed my hair and held a lighter to me.

Eleanor took a predatory step toward me with her eyes shining with a terrifying sense of indignation and entitlement that chilled me to my core. “That money was supposed to be set aside for your sister’s wedding because she is the one who is actually following the traditional path that matters to this family,” she spat.

I felt the heat of anger rising in my chest, but I forced myself to take a slow and steady breath so that I would not lose my composure. It was certainly not the first time that my hard-earned success had been framed as a debt I owed to people who had never lifted a finger to help me.

“I am sorry that you feel that way, but that money belongs entirely to me because I am the one who worked for it every single day for ten years,” I said firmly. My mother’s expression shifted instantly from explosive fury to a chillingly calm demeanor that was far more frightening than her screaming.

She moved with surprising speed and grabbed a handful of my hair with a grip that was calculated to cause maximum pain without leaving any obvious bruises on my skin. I froze in shock as I felt my scalp begin to burn from the intensity of her hold while she stared into my eyes with a sickly kind of serenity.

With her free hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic lighter, flicking the wheel until a tiny flame of orange and blue appeared before my eyes. She brought the dancing heat dangerously close to my hair and whispered in a voice that sounded like a serrated blade.

“If you refuse to contribute to this family of your own free will, then I suppose you will have to learn your place through a much harder lesson,” she murmured. I could smell the faint scent of my expensive shampoo and the acrid aroma of the lighter fluid as the heat brushed against my cheek.

I did not scream or beg for mercy, but instead, I simply looked directly into her eyes and realized that she did not actually care about the money as much as she cared about my total obedience. My father finally spoke my name in a weak and trembling voice that felt like an apology that had arrived far too many years late.

“Eleanor, please stop this right now before things go too far,” he pleaded softly, though he made no move to actually step in and intervene. Celine rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of genuine boredom as she watched the scene unfold from the safety of the hallway.