They Took My Room, So I Took My Millions and Left

1: 1

The day my cousin moved in, Mom told me to give up my room so Scott Henson could have it.

I argued my case, laid out every reason, but both Mom and Dad flatly insisted I sleep in the living room.

"Mom, I'm a girl. You want me sleeping on the couch?"

"And doesn't Scott have his own place to live?"

I looked at her and asked it straight out.

Mom shot me a glare. "Your cousin's place is too far from his job, so he's staying with us!"

"Besides, in a few days you're off to college anyway. What's the harm in letting your cousin use your room?"

I listened to her, then turned to Dad for help.

Dad kept his head down and said nothing. In that moment, I gave a bitter little smile.

I knew what my mother was. She bled her own household dry to prop up her brother's. For as long as I could remember, everything in our house made its way to Uncle Ronald's place. Growing up, I wore hand-me-downs while every stitch on Scott's back was bought by Mom.

Dad never got involved.

I looked at the hard set of her face and I smiled. There was no reason left to stay in this house.

I tightened my grip on the lottery ticket in my hand. I hadn't told her I'd won big. That money was more than enough to send me abroad to study.

1

Once Scott was settled in, Mom forced me onto the couch.

I tried one more time, said Scott was a guy, he could take the couch.

But she was just as unbending, and made me move out of my room anyway.

"Your cousin is a guest. How could I make a guest sleep on the couch?"

When she said that, I stopped talking.

I quietly took out a suitcase, packed my things, and set it in the corner of the living room.

I knew that suitcase held everything I owned, everything I'd carry with me the day I finally left.

And I was ready. First thing in the morning I'd take the ticket in to claim it, and then I could go.

Dinner was at home. To welcome Scott, Mom cooked a whole table of seafood, and I sat there staring at all of it with nowhere to start.

Because I'm allergic to seafood.

I turned to look at her, but her face was cold. "What are you staring at? Hurry up and eat!"

My mouth opened, and I smiled.

She had never once cared about me. She'd forgotten a long time ago that seafood makes me sick.

So I just quietly ate my rice. A table full of seafood, and not a single dish I could touch.

Watching me, Scott put on a troubled look. "Aunt Isabella Dickerson, is it because I'm here that Beth Dickerson's upset?"

"If that's it, I can move out."

At his words Mom's face went dark, and her head snapped toward me.

She saw me picking silently at my rice, a whole table of food untouched, and slammed her hand down. "Beth, who is this act for?"

"Your cousin staying here just means he's taking your room, that's all."

"It's not like you have nowhere to sleep. And soon enough you'll be living on campus anyway!"

"So who exactly is this performance for?"

Her voice was loud, and full of blame.

I lifted my head, looked at her, and at Scott a little way off still wearing that wounded expression, and I smiled.

It had always been like this. In front of Mom, Scott played the one who'd been wronged. But I was the only one who knew the truth of who actually got hurt.

I glanced at Dad. He understood all of it, and every time it came to facing Mom, he went silent.

"I'm not putting on any act. It's just that I'm allergic to seafood, and you've forgotten. I can't eat a single thing on this table."