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Raya

“Raya, you are such a disobedient little brat. I don’t want you in my house. Leave right now!” 

My mom's mean words hurt me a lot. Her angry voice makes me feel scared and small. I can feel how mad she is at me, and it's heavy on my heart.

Across from me, a man in his late forties who is said to be my father sits on the sofa, speaking up, urging my mother to reconsider. "Amanda, don’t just kick her out yet. Who will do the house chores if you kick her out?" I see my mom's anger start to go away, and she looks like she's thinking. 

There's a hint of reconsideration in her eyes, but she's still looking at me with a mean look.

Even though things are tense, I hold onto a small hope that this argument might help improve our difficult relationship.

"No, William. She is a thief. She has stolen my diamond earrings!" My mother's accusing words are aimed at my father and me, weighing heavily on me and causing my heart to race as I struggle to understand the betrayal in her tone.

I sit there on the cold floor, on the verge of tears, my voice trembling as I question with a shaky tone, "Why would I do that? Am I not your daughter?" her gaze shifts back to me, her eyes cold and unforgiving. In a moment of brutal honesty, she delivers a blow that cuts deep into my soul, "No! You are not and you never will be."

Her words hit me like a punch, throwing me off balance and leaving me reeling, my emotions in chaos. Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as they roll down my cheeks, each one a silent expression of the hurt and abandonment I feel.

I knew about my adoption, but I held onto a small hope that my parents would love me no matter where I came from.

As my mother's painful words fill the room, I turn to my father, hoping to find empathy or understanding in his eyes. My heart sinks as I realize that the rejection is mutual, cutting me to the core.

My attention then shifts to the figure standing at the top of the stairs, Sean, my brother. His hands are crossed over his chest, a sly grin playing on his lips. He acts cold and indifferent towards me like he doesn't care.

There is a big gap between us, with no love or warmth. I've always been pushed aside, only getting a little bit of love and attention compared to my sibling.

Sean, the favorite child, enjoys special treatment like a prince, with our parents fulfilling his every wish.

Alone in my small room, I am lying on my stomach, my mother's warnings bearing down on me, stirring up a storm of feelings. 

Tears fill my eyes, hot and flowing freely, as I curse my luck and the hardships I have faced in life. 

The command from my mother echoes in my head, her strict order to pack up and go ringing in my ears. Panic sets in as I come to terms with the harsh truth that I will soon be without a home.

Where will I go? 

What will become of me in this unforgiving world?

How am I going to find my family?

Just when I am lost in my thoughts, the door to my room creaks open, and a figure enters. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on me. Panic grips me, fear enveloping my entire being.

“What are you doing here?” I ask and he shuts the door behind him, approaching me with a sly grin plastering on his face. 

I sit back on the bed, feeling both alarmed and terrified. I prepare myself to run away if he tries to do something. However, he proves to be much stronger than me, swiftly pinning me against the mattress with his weight bearing down on me.

His hand covers my mouth completely, causing my eyes to widen in alarm as my heart pounds frantically in my chest. His grin continues as he leans in close, whispering, "Do you think I would allow you to escape that easily?"

He is monstrous, the very man who is said to be my brother. 

"Sean, what are you doing? Please don't!" I plead with him as he releases his grip on my mouth.

I know the rules. 

Don’t shout. 

Don’t tell anyone.

Don’t complain and just take it. 

Sean says that we are not related by blood which means whatever he is doing to me is right. 

I might have agreed to it only if my consent was in it. But I hate it…I hate it when his tongue is crawling all over my body. 

I hate it when he touches me inappropriately. I hate when he forcefully enters inside me and forces me to take all of it. I hate it when he forces himself into my mouth. 

He does strange things to me, and I often wake up with random bruises on my body.

There's a scar on my chest, between my breasts, from a cigarette burn given by him.

“You can never escape me!” his raspy voice comes to my ears and I immediately respond with, “They are sending me away.” his eyes darken, his grip on my throat tightens, and with his teeth gritted he utters, “That won't happen.”

This person purposely left my mother's earrings in my room to upset her and now that she's kicking me out, he's trying to convince her. Apparently, he is the only one who gains benefit out of me. Well, the others too…everyone but in their own ways. 

Before I can utter a word, he silences me with a forceful kiss, biting my lower lip in a way that feels inappropriate and violating.

The reason I cannot find the courage to speak about this is because I fear no one will believe me.