9. West
Flashback
Age 12
C hloe. Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, Chloe.
I’m sick of hearing her name. Sick of the way he pronounces each letter. Sick of the tone he uses when he talks about her.
A little angel descended from heaven. A princess who deserves nothing but unicorns and rainbows. A girl who will never know the struggles of real life.
It feels as though I don’t exist—like, were I to disappear, no one would care. Neither Dad nor Chloe. She always holds a grudge against me and prefers to ignore me whenever we’re in the same room, while he looks at me with unmasked disgust.
Today, Dad said she could stay home from school because she told him she felt sad. I couldn’t believe it at first, simply because I’m not even allowed to say that word.
Sad.
If I told him how I really feel, he’d slap me and lock me in the basement again. That’s what he does. Since Grandma got sick and was moved to the hospital, he took me back. I wanted to stay with her, to help her heal, to just be with her. She’s too weak, and I’m worried about her, but he won’t even give me a chance to see her. Dad has always been a controlling freak, and now that I spend all my time with him, I’m constantly reminded of it.
No matter what I do, it’s never enough. I try to impress him, to go above and beyond with the job he gives me, but it’s still not enough.
It feels unfair. Chloe doesn’t have to do anything, and he’s fine with that. But me? The job he gives me after school consumes all my free time, yet he still isn’t pleased.
I feel stupid. I can’t understand what he wants from me or see the flaws he perceives, which is why I can’t please him no matter how hard I try.
He started taking me to his business meetings. Mostly, I sit at the same table with his friends and colleagues, listening to endless discussions about real estate problems. I try to learn, to understand better, because that’s what he expects of me. He wants me to rule this world one day, and for that, I have to learn how to be a good businessman.
But there’s another side to our business—the part that most people don’t know about. There’s a basement room in one of our houses where he’s started taking me. He explained that this business is deeper than it seems and that I need to learn how to deal with the ‘problems.’ By that, he means dealing with traitors—people who threaten or cross him. Turns out, he has a lot of them.
Tonight is the third night he’s taken me with him. The ringing in my ears still throbs, and when I swallow, I taste bile. My hands tremble, soaked in the crimson blood of the man he tortured. The previous two times weren’t as brutal, but tonight was different.
We’ve been there for three hours, but to me, it felt like three days. The man’s screams and agony are burned into my memory, the metallic tang still clinging to me, impossible to wash away no matter how hard I try.
He forced me to watch. When I told him I didn’t want to, he slapped me so hard that I momentarily saw black. He believes pain is the key to success. The key to wealth, power, and a better life.
But why doesn’t Chloe have to go through any of this? She has everything she wants and doesn’t want, yet she does nothing to earn it. She can’t even control her emotions, and Dad just laughs, saying it means she’s starting to grow up. Every day, I hear him talking with his partners, and whenever they ask about his children, he only talks about Chloe and what a good kid she is.
He’s never mentioned me.
Maybe it’s because, as he says, I’m weak. The first time he took me to the basement, I puked all over myself at the sight of blood. The second time, I started crying. I don’t even remember why. I just did.
In reality, I’m not meeting his expectations. He keeps telling me I need to toughen up and be a man already. A real man wouldn’t cry or vomit at the sight of blood or the sound of screams.
I know I need to be better. I have to try harder so that he’ll talk about me when he speaks to his friends about his family. I want to hear that note of pride in his voice, to see him smile when he mentions his son.
I grab my wrist with my hand, squeezing the little hairs on my skin, desperate to stop the trembling. I’m still shaking like a leaf. I need to toughen up because I know there will be more nights like this. He said as much himself. Beneath the real estate empire he’s constructing, he runs another business—one that demands even greater resilience.
Inhaling a deep, calming breath, I close my eyes, trying to drown out the fearful thoughts racing through my mind. I try to switch, to envision the future—Dad’s face, a smile full of pride blooming on his features, the slight pat on the shoulder he’ll give me, the words he’ll say.
I will make him proud if I want him to love me.