I gritted my teeth and forced a sweet smile. "I'll sleep in the living room. It's no big deal. After all, my parents’ portraits are there. I'll just keep them company. But..."
I hesitated, leaving the sentence unfinished. Aunt Annie furrowed her brow and glanced at me.
"But what?"
"Aunt Annie, I’ll tell you a secret. I once read in a book that you shouldn’t use things that belonged to the dead; it’s considered very unlucky! You see, my mom’s portrait is facing you."
I pointed to the black-and-white portraits of my parents, placed beside the TV in the living room.
At the mention of this, Aunt Annie's eyes immediately went to the portraits. She jumped back in surprise, and her hand, which had been holding the luxury skincare product, recoiled in disgust, pushing it aside.
I couldn’t help but curl my lips into a smile, deciding to fan the flames just a bit more.
I walked into the living room and grabbed the medicine box. Then, I handed Aunt Annie a tube of ointment for treating skin abscesses, pretending to be kind.
"Aunt Annie, take this. My mom had a skin condition, and I’m not sure if the clothes could have been contaminated, but she always used this ointment. It worked wonders."
"Skin disease?" Aunt Annie’s brows furrowed, and she leapt off the bed in a panic. "You little troublemaker, why didn’t you tell me earlier?"
With that, she hurriedly grabbed a change of clothes and rushed into the master bedroom’s bathroom.
I left the bedroom, sat on the couch, and stared at my mom’s portrait intently.
Mom, I’m sorry. I lied about the skin disease. I know it’s disrespectful, but to protect what’s rightfully yours, I had no choice.
Dad, Mom, please watch over me from heaven. Help me protect everything that belongs to us, and give me the strength to face these people who want to harm us.
Just then, Kristen barged into my room, tossing my backpack and textbooks out with a loud thud, as if throwing out trash.
"Susan, this room is mine now. Take your junk and leave."
She was wearing the pink princess dress my mom had bought for me—a pricey brand, too.
It’s true what they say: like mother, like daughter. Both of them love to take what doesn’t belong to them.
"Kristen, since you think my things are junk and you’re so disgusted by me, why don’t you just take off that dress and give it back to me?" I said coolly.
Kristen’s mouth twitched, and her face immediately soured. "You think I care? From now on, you’re nothing but my lackey. Your stuff is mine now."
"I’m your lackey? Is that your idea, or is it Uncle John’s? Maybe we should ask him together?" I grabbed her hand, pretending to head out to find Uncle John.
Kristen froze, pulling her hand away from mine in a hurry.
She turned to go back to her room, but her gaze casually landed on the portrait in the living room. She stopped dead in her tracks and sneered.
"Susan, do you think you’re some kind of jinx? You’re only fourteen, and you’ve already killed your own parents?"
My eyes instantly turned cold. They could treat me badly, they could bully me, but they could not talk about my parents like that.
Especially now, when they were the ones squatting in my home like thieves!
The sound of a door unlocking broke the silence. I took a deep breath and, with a face full of feigned grievance, said,
"Well, it’s not impossible. If you’re afraid of being cursed and ending up dead like my parents, maybe tomorrow Uncle John and I should just cancel the adoption."
Just then, Uncle John entered. Upon hearing that I wanted to end the adoption, his face went pale with worry.
"Susan, don’t listen to Kristen. This whole 'jinx' nonsense isn’t true. There’s no such thing."
They hadn’t gotten their hands on my family’s house or the password to our bank account yet. They’d never want to end the adoption now.
The words "end adoption" hit Uncle John like a punch in the gut.
