The Annoying Stepmom

My physics teacher held up my test paper with an 18-point score in front of all the students and parents and said, “Students like this are hopeless. I don’t even know how someone like this passed the high school entrance exam. “I didn’t think there was a way to cheat on the high school entrance exam, but it turns out there is. It gives people like this a chance to cheat.” He did not just insult my intelligence but also questioned my character and family. “Well, it’s not surprising. Only a junk-collecting family could raise a kid like this.” I curled up in my seat, too scared to say anything. But my stepmom could not stand it anymore. She smacked the chalk box off his desk, pointed at him, and yelled, “Who do you think you’re talking about?! “I send my kid to school and pay all the tuition and book fees! How did it turn into us being a junk-collecting family?! “You can’t even teach properly, and I haven’t called you out for it! Have you no shame?! You don’t deserve to be called a teacher! You’re just a piece of trash!” For some reason, she suddenly seemed imposing and heroic to me. Chapter 1 During the summer of my eighth grade, my dad got me a stepmom. He was 42 years old, and the woman was four years older than him. They did not register their marriage or have a wedding. One day, out of nowhere, that woman suddenly showed up in our house. Just like that, she entered the place I had lived in for all my fourteen years without any warning. When I saw this chubby, dark-skinned woman, I felt nothing but disgust and dislike. My dad, however, was beaming. He pulled me over, ignored my confusion and reluctance, and said excitedly, “She’s Scarlett. You’ve met her before at dinner. She’s going to be your mom now.” She wore a loose cardigan that hung over her large frame. After hearing my dad’s words, she gave me a fake smile. “Pearl, do you remember me? We had dinner together once with your dad and your godfather.” I did remember. Her name was Scarlett Campbell. I also remembered that before my godfather died, she was his mistress. My godfather already had a wife and kids. She was the homewrecker who had forced her way into their happy family. Right after my godfather passed away, she latched onto my dad. When I did not say anything, my dad shoved me hard. He said with annoyance, “Call her Mom! What are you standing there for? Is this how I raised you? You ungrateful brat!” I sneered inwardly. She was not my mom. I already had a mom. Scarlett quietly stepped closer. Her strong perfume hit me and made me feel dizzy. She acted all understanding and said, “It doesn’t matter what she calls me. She’s still young. It must be hard for her to change how she addresses me so suddenly.” Then, she pulled a square box from her purse and handed it to me. She said, “This is a gift for you. Take it.” She gave me a phone. It was the latest model. It was expensive and cost over 4,000 dollars. The shiny phone seemed to sparkle, and I could not take my eyes off it. My eyes, my head, and even my hands were out of control. So, I shamefully accepted her gift. And in return, I called her “Stepmom.” My dad relaxed, and Scarlett turned to him with a smug smile. Chapter 2 Scarlett’s lips curled slightly, and it made her bright red lipstick look even more noticeable. And just like that, she moved into our house without any fuss. A new towel appeared on the bathroom rack, and a new cup with her toothbrush showed up on the sink. But she did not just want to add her things to the house. She wanted to erase everything that reminded us of my mom and replace it with her own stuff. She made huge changes. She replaced the couch, threw out the cabinets, and even removed the kitchen hood. The house looked completely different. She even wanted to take down my mom’s wedding photo that hung in my room. When my mom left, she took everything she could. The heavy wedding photo no longer held much meaning for her, so she left it behind. In the end, it became the only thing I had to remember her by. Sometimes, when I looked at the photo, at my mom’s face that felt both familiar and distant, it almost felt like she was looking back at me. Today, my dad was at work, and Scarlett had the day off. I was in my room doing homework when she walked in with a plate of sliced fruit. She knocked lightly on the door and said in a fake, friendly tone, “Are you tired? Have some fruit and take a break.” I glanced at her and quietly slid my phone, which was still on, under a book. She noticed what I did but did not say anything. Instead, she turned to look at the wedding photo and started studying it. She stared at the photo of my mom and said, “You’re as pretty as your mom. But a big photo like this doesn’t look good on the wall. I’m planning to renovate your room and put a cabinet here. You should take the photo down.” Her tone was polite, and it sounded like she was doing it for me. But I could see the malice and dislike in her eyes as she looked at my mom’s face in the photo. I simply said, “No.” She did not expect me to refuse so directly. The speech she had prepared was useless. After a moment, she tried again and talked at length to convince me. But I kept saying no. I was cold and distant each time. After getting rejected repeatedly, her face darkened, and she left my room. When she called me for lunch, she was cold. She stopped pretending to be warm or trying to get my approval like before. But as soon as my dad came home that evening, she ran to complain to him. Of course, she did not mention the wedding photo. Instead, she put on a guilty look and said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have bought her that phone. It’s my fault. I thought it would help her study or relax a bit. “But today, she said she was doing homework, yet she stayed in her room all day playing on it. When I brought her some fruit, she quickly hid it under a book. I wonder what she’s using her phone for.” I never thought she would complain to my dad so directly. Before this, anyone who saw me using my phone, whether relatives or family friends, would either say nothing or remind me to stop in private. None of them told my dad about it like she did. That night, my dad had been drinking. After hearing her, he got furious. With a cigarette in his mouth, he kicked my door open. Chapter 3 My dad had broken the lock on my door long ago. All that was left was a hole where it used to be. The thin door was covered with small cracks and stains that could not be cleaned. Each one was a sign of the violence he had caused. He kicked the door open easily. Without saying a word, he grabbed my arm, yanked me out of bed, and dragged me to the floor in one motion. I was not prepared and felt dizzy from being pulled so suddenly. My arm was twisted painfully, like it was about to pop out of its socket, and I could not stop myself from wincing. Before I could even think, he slapped me hard across the face. He was so much stronger than me that I could not fight back even if I wanted to. I did not even have the chance to think about resisting before that thought was completely crushed. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and smoke swirled around him. The glowing tip flickered, and he angrily shouted, “Just a few days without a beating, and you’re already acting out! Your stepmom bought you that phone to help with your studies, yet you spent the whole day playing on it!” I tried to get up, but he slapped me again before I could. “Did you finish your homework?! Did you get good grades on your exams?! Looks like all that studying was wasted on you! Your stepmom even cooked and called you to eat, but you didn’t come out! Do we need to feed you like a baby?!” My face was on fire, and my ears were ringing. My ears, eyes, and scalp all throbbed with pain. I did not dare look up. I stared blankly at his slippers and whispered nervously, “I didn’t…” But I did not dare to explain myself. My whole body was shaking. “Didn’t what?! I’ve raised you all these years! Don’t I know exactly what kind of person you are?!” His voice rumbled like thunder and shook the room. He grabbed the dictionary from my desk and smashed it against my head. I let out a scream, but I quickly swallowed it. Holding my head, I stayed quiet. I was too scared to make another sound. Then came the third, fourth, and fifth slaps. Each time I was knocked down, I would try to get up, only to be hit again. Finally, blood started dripping from my nose, and he stopped. My face no longer hurt. It just felt numb. Tears, snot, saliva, and blood mixed on my face, leaving a salty, bitter taste. But he was not satisfied with just that. I knew he wanted me to say things like “I’m sorry” and “I won’t do it again,” just like before. He would prefer if I cried and begged on my knees while saying those things. This was how my dad and I had been since my mom left when I was in third grade. But there was someone else in the house—Scarlett, the woman I hated more than anything. I refused to cry or beg in front of her. I did not want her to see my pathetic side. If she had not told on me to my dad… If she had not given me that phone… If she had not clung to my dad… If none of this had happened, I would not be getting hit. I hated her. I hated her so much I wished she would just disappear. That dark thought first appeared the moment my dad slapped me. Chapter 4 At first, the thought was just a faint idea, but with each slap, it became stronger and clearer. I blamed everything on Scarlett. I blamed her, even though she screamed and tried to stop my dad when he burst into my room, dragged me out of bed, and threw me on the floor. In a panic, she grabbed his arm and tried to stop him. She even stepped in front of me a few times, only for him to shove her aside. Her white nightgown smelled nice, and it made her face look even paler. She shook as she raised her arm to stop my dad and repeatedly tried to defend me and plead for me. She was so nervous that she almost bit her tongue. “No, no… don’t hit her, maybe I made a mistake…” She tried to say nice things about me, even though we had barely spent any time together. “Pearl is a good girl. She’s very polite. She even helped me with the dishes. She’s been doing her homework. She probably just wanted a break. Maybe she wasn’t playing on her phone.” I watched her, and her fake concern made me sick. My stomach twisted, and I started to gag. I still blamed everything on her. So, one night, I took the 20,000 dollars my dad had locked in the drawer and put it in her coat pocket. My dad was a downright working-class person. He liked to smoke, drink, gamble, and take his anger out on me. Since he could not hit anyone else, he hit me. Even at his age, he did not have a stable job. He just took whatever work he could find. Sometimes, he fixed pipes; other times, he worked at construction sites. He earned money only when he worked. After divorcing my mom, he had been looking for a decent woman to settle down with for the rest of his life. The first time I met Scarlett was when my dad forced me to go to a dinner with him. He forced me there because she liked kids, especially girls. He treated me like a gift to her. However, I was quiet and boring, so Scarlett did not spare my dad a glance because of me. She sat next to my godfather and often served him food, but he ignored her. She kept trying, though. Not long after, my godfather died in an accident. He got drunk, fell off a ladder, and badly injured his head. It happened in a corner of an alley. He lay there from 2 a.m. until 7 a.m. when a janitor found him and called an ambulance. The doctors said he was brain-dead and that even if he survived, he would have been in a coma. His wife quickly decided to turn off the life support. At his funeral, there were no tears. People just sighed and looked numb. I only looked at him from a distance. I saw someone put a coin in his mouth. My dad said it was to stop him from talking after death. My dad did not show much emotion about his friend’s death, even though they were as close as siblings. He just said, “He would be a burden to his family if he were alive.” Scarlett did not go to the funeral. She just sent a condolence gift through my dad. Looking back, I guessed she knew she was not welcome, or maybe she felt that after my godfather died, he no longer had any value to her. Chapter 5 I never hid my dislike for this awful woman. I often thought that she was the one who caused my godfather’s death. There was no real reason for thinking that. Malicious thoughts did not need a reason. After my godfather died, she immediately turned to my dad. I knew she wanted to kill him this time. A week passed since she complained to my dad about me, and my cheek was still swollen. The bruise on my forehead from when my dad hit me with the dictionary had not healed, and my hatred had not faded either. My dad was unusually busy that week. He was working hard to make money to keep her happy. Sometimes, he even stayed out all night. After that day, she was more careful toward me, even when asking me to eat. If she heard even the smallest sound, like a pen dropping in my room, she would ask if everything was okay. While my dad was trying to please her, she was trying to win me over. She asked my dad about what I liked and bought a lot of small cakes. She would quietly bring them to my room, but I would put them in the living room without eating them. After a few failed attempts, she could not take it anymore. One day at dinner, she awkwardly said, “I didn’t know your dad would get so angry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Her spoon hit the plate, and she added, “Please don’t think badly of me. I’m not that kind of person.” She picked up some meat and carefully put it in my bowl. She watched me closely but pretended to act calm as she ate. What kind of person? She was evil, had a bad character, used dirty tricks, and had no dignity. That was exactly the kind of person she was. I did not want to talk about what she brought up. So, I slammed my spoon down, went back to my room, and left her awkwardly alone at the table. I tossed and turned in bed. Every time I turned to one side, my cheek hurt badly. It was like tiny needles were poking at it. I could not help but start hurting myself by slapping my own face. In my mind, I angrily cursed and hoped the pain would stop. I kept thinking about Scarlett and could not fall asleep until late at night. So, I got up. In the dim moonlight, I quickly found the key in the corner of the bathroom and unlocked the drawer in my dad’s wardrobe. In that drawer were all of my dad’s important things: his divorce papers, our health insurance cards, our IDs, and my elementary school diploma. Most importantly, it held the 20,000 dollars my grandfather left me for college. I quietly put the money into Scarlett’s coat pocket. I did not think anyone would see through such a clumsy, childish act of revenge. After all, sneaky actions like this were exactly what you would expect from a scheming woman who enjoyed being a mistress. She was sound asleep. She lay in the same bed where my dad and mom once slept and was completely at ease. Three days later, I told my dad, “When school starts, students need health insurance. If they don’t get it through the school, they need to show proof.” My dad looked at me. He got up, went to the bathroom in his slippers, and then started searching through the wardrobe. Scarlett was sitting on the couch. She had my dad watch her favorite soap opera with her. When she saw him go to find my health insurance card, she smiled at me. She stopped peeling the orange, handed it to me, and said, “If the school doesn’t accept the proof, you can just get it done there. I’ll pay for it.” Chapter 6 I looked at the orange she handed me and, surprisingly, smiled at her. I said, “It’s okay, Stepmom.” She froze for a moment, but when she saw me take the orange and start eating it, she quickly snapped out of it, smiled, and began peeling another one for me. She peeled it so fast and nervously that her nails dug into the orange peel and squeezed out the juice. “Do you like it? I can buy more tomorrow. It’s sweet, right?” I felt like laughing as I watched her. A strange, secret satisfaction bubbled up inside me and almost made me grin from ear to ear. Before she could finish speaking, my dad came out of the bedroom with a dark expression. He was holding my health insurance card in one hand, and his other hand was clenched into a fist. His eyes darted between me and Scarlett. Then, through gritted teeth, he asked, “Who touched the drawer in the wardrobe?” The veins on his arms were bulging, and his expression was terrifying. As I had lived with him for over ten years, I knew this was the warning sign before he lost his temper. From the moment my dad started questioning me to glaring at me with cold, sharp eyes and rolling up his sleeves to hit me, it all happened in under two minutes. When I was little, during the New Year, while everyone else was celebrating and enjoying fireworks, he kicked me out of the house. He pinned me down in the snow and beat me until I was crying and begging for mercy. It was all because I had dared to tell him at the dinner table to drink less. When my dad questioned us, Scarlett looked up, confused, and asked, “What drawer?” She was completely innocent, of course, but I had to act even more innocent than her. I stayed silent and stared blankly at my dad. When he did not get an answer, he lost his patience and said directly, “The 20,000 dollars in the drawer is gone.” Scarlett looked even more confused. “Money? Could it be that you put it somewhere else when you were drunk last time?” I glanced at my dad, then at Scarlett. He stared at her face for a long time and tried to find any trace of guilt. But then he turned to me, grabbed my shoulder, and shouted, “Did you take it?!” I did not dare look up, and my body started shaking again. I tried hard to stop my arms from trembling. A moment later, I decided to look my dad straight in the eye. I calmly said, “I didn’t take it.” I was lying, just like he had lied countless times to cheat money from my grandparents or make excuses to borrow money from my godfather. I was his daughter, after all. I had his blood and looked so much like him that anyone could tell we were related with just one glance. So, naturally, I inherited his ability to lie effortlessly. He did not push me further. On the surface, he seemed to believe Scarlett’s idea that he must have misplaced the money while drunk, but I knew he was suspicious of everyone in the house. He started searching everywhere, and Scarlett helped him. Finally, after all their searching, I watched as my dad pulled a thick wad of cash from Scarlett’s coat pocket. Dad was not the only one who froze in shock. Scarlett was also rooted to the spot. Scarlett was not stupid. She knew what it meant for the money to be found in her pocket. Her face turned pale as a sheet. She grabbed my dad’s sleeve and desperately said, “No, it wasn’t me! How could the money end up in my coat?” Chapter 7 “I didn’t even know there was a drawer in the wardrobe. How could I take the money?” My dad stiffened and seemed to be thinking about something. He nodded but did not say anything else. That night, for the first time, I heard them arguing in their room. At first, it was just quiet talking. Then, someone slammed the table, and a cup got knocked over. Scarlett was screaming but trying hard to keep her voice down. Every word she said sounded twisted and broken. “How could I have taken it?! I’ve only been here a short time! Yes, I cleaned the room after I moved in. I admit I knew there was a drawer, but I don’t have the key! Do you think I want your money? “Do you think I don’t know how much money you have? I bought you cigarettes and alcohol and even gave you money to gamble with other people. Why do you think it couldn’t have been your daughter? She hates me and is trying to set me up to make me leave. Can’t you see that?” … I crouched by the door and listened in. I could not help but laugh quietly to myself. After hearing her sudden cry, I felt that my cheek did not hurt anymore. I wanted to laugh out loud, but I could not. Instead, I had to hold back my laughter and make strange, muffled sounds pathetically. In a daze, I heard my dad say, “Listen. My mom and my daughter are my bottom line. That money my dad left for my daughter’s college fund is off-limits. I don’t care what you’re planning, but if you go after them, I won’t let you get away with it.” My dad was such a hypocrite. He always said these things in front of others and acted like he cared about me and my grandmother, but he still hit me and cheated my grandmother out of her pension money. All he had to do was speak nicely, and people would praise him without hesitation. He said it so seriously, and Scarlett believed him just as much. As soon as my dad slammed the door and left, I eagerly opened the door to enjoy my victory. Scarlett was sitting on the floor in a mess. The oranges from the table had rolled all over the place. They were near her bare feet and the slippers she had thrown. When she heard me, she looked up. Her tears fell endlessly like beads slipping from a broken necklace. Her tears were silent, but at that moment, I heard the trumpet of victory. Every time a tear fell, I felt a bit happier. Her hair was messy and hung around her face. I stood at the door and watched for a while. Then, slowly, I stepped over the oranges and walked up to her. I bent over and threw an orange onto her lap. I crouched down to look her in the eye and whispered, “Get out. This is my house.”