My mock exam results came back, and I scored among the top.

For most families, that would be a reason to celebrate. But not mine. My mother, Ashley Miller, locked me in the basement.

"With scores like these, why are you doing in school? Skip meals for now. Just stay down there," she said coldly.

Dad, Vincent Miller, who was working out of town, rushed back overnight. As soon as he entered the basement, he lashed out with his belt, beating me mercilessly.

"I'm working myself to the bone out there, and this is what you give me? I'd be better off keeping a dog than paying for your upkeep. I swear, I'll beat you to death!"

Later, on the night of the graduation party, the house was filled with laughter and joy.

I died at just 18 years old.

——

Vincent swung the belt down on me again and again, his face red with rage.

It felt like he wasn't hitting his own daughter but was instead pounding away at a punching bag, venting his frustrations.

I lost track of time, barely aware of the slow fade of consciousness.

"Enough! Stop hitting her, or she won't be able to take it," Ashley's voice cut through the haze as she stepped into the room and pulled Vincent away.

In the dim, oppressive room, Vincent's heavy breathing was the only sound.

"Don't think I'm done here. If you don't shape up, next time you get results like this, I'll make sure you regret it even more. Maybe then you'll take your studies seriously."

"Alright, you've driven all night, and you're tired. You've got to leave early tomorrow. Go get some rest," Ashley said, her voice cold but pragmatic.

Vincent wiped the blood-stained belt roughly, spat on the floor, and left.

A sigh of relief escaped me, but soon, the searing pain began to spread through my body. Ashley wiped my face gently and spoke in a soothing tone.

"Kate, your dad and I are doing this for your own good. You need to understand that.

"It's not easy for us either, seeing you fall behind. Spend a couple of days down here to think things over and reflect."

I tasted blood in my mouth, my voice a raspy whisper. "So I don't have to go to school tomorrow?"

"I've told them you're sick and won't be coming in. Don't worry about what the teachers will say," she replied.

I bitterly smiled to myself. It wasn't about me worrying; it was about keeping their perfect public image intact and hiding their brutal methods.

I couldn't fight back, couldn't speak up, for fear of even worse punishment.

Ashley looked down at me one last time before walking out.

As the door locked behind her, the small light in the room flickered off.

This was their way of handling me—isolated, hidden, so no one could hear my cries.

They crafted a facade for the outside world, but inside, their "parenting" meant I had to endure this punishment to prove my worth.

The tiny room was like an ancient dungeon—dark, damp, and suffocating. But I wasn't a criminal; I was their child.

The tears I had tried to hold back now flowed freely, splashing onto the cold floor. I lost track of how many times they had locked me in this place. I used to resist, but that only led to harsher beatings.

Every time Vincent had finished, Ashley would come in to "console" me, claiming it was all out of love.

It turned out their "love" meant controlling me, beating me, all for my own good.

Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep amidst the pain.

I lost track of how long I had been asleep and had no idea what time it was.

The pain in my body was relentless, making me wake up and drift back into an uneasy sleep repeatedly.

Voices argued outside the door.

"Let me in. I need to teach her a lesson, or who knows when she'll get it."

"What more teaching? You beat her senseless yesterday. If you hit her again today, how are we going to explain it to her school tomorrow? We can't just keep making excuses. You know how crucial this time is."

"Fine. Just make sure you keep a close eye on her. The SAT is coming up; she can't afford to mess up."

"Pfft, whatever. You'd better get going or you'll be…"

Their voices faded as they walked away.

Finally alone, I sank back into a heavy sleep.

When I woke again, Ashley was shaking me, urging me to get up and come home.

I struggled to my feet and followed her.

As we walked past the little iron gate, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd be right back in that dark room soon.

We were in the old part of town, where buildings were ancient and peeling.

We lived on the fourth floor, and my aching body made each step a laborious effort.

Just then, a kindly old lady from the second floor, accompanied by her granddaughter, greeted my mom.

"There's a sale at the Mall today. Eggs are cheap. You'd better hurry before they're gone."

"Sounds good. I'll head over later since we're out of eggs."

I trailed behind silently, but the old lady's curiosity got the better of her.

"Isn't today Thursday? Why isn't Kate in school?"

Before I could answer, Ashley jumped in.

"She's not feeling well, so I brought her home."

"That's not good. The SAT is coming up, and health is so important. You can't afford to slack off as parents."

Ashley gave an awkward smile. "Of course. We'll take care of it. Let's go, Kate."

Ashley glanced back at me, signaling me to hurry. My heart sank as I heard the old lady's voice trailing off.

"Let's hope our little one grows up to be like Kate, always bringing home awards."

"What are awards?"

"They're what we put on the wall at home. They're earned through tests and show how smart our little one is."

"I want to be like her when I grow up."

I vaguely remembered being that child once.

Getting first place was a cause for celebration.

But after that, if I fell short of first place, it meant either harsh words or a beating.

Ashley applied some ointment to my bruises, her eyes filled with concern.

"Your dad really went too far this time. How long is it going to take for you to heal?"

I didn't respond. I had grown numb to such comments.

I could even predict what she'd say next.

And sure enough, she continued, "You have to understand where we're coming from. Your dad works so hard to support all of us. It's only natural that he'd be upset when you don't do well on your tests. Just try to do better next time, and this won't happen again."

In this mock exam, I had only missed the top score in the class by 15 points.

I was only a few points behind the second and third place.

In fact, my total score was slightly higher than my first test of the year.

But all they cared about was my rank, whether I was number one.

It was not like I could always be first. I was not a genius.

But they'd never understand that.

I just hoped the SAT would come soon.

Another day, in class, the atmosphere in the advanced class was tense.

No one really noticed when I missed a day.

During a break, my deskmate, Lucy White, who I got along with really well, came over and asked, "Hey, you weren't at school yesterday. What happened?"

With the exams approaching, taking a day off was quite unusual.

My layered clothing hid the bruises.

I shook my head. "Just wasn't feeling well."

Lucy, seeing my pale complexion, immediately believed me. "You won't believe it, but Dylan made a point of showing your test paper around yesterday. He bragged about it to the whole class!"

Dylan Moore was our English teacher, a rather smug old fellow.

This time, my English performance was excellent, and I was ranked first in the county for that subject.

But of course, my parents didn't care about that.

Lucy didn't notice my waning spirits and continued, "Even though I dropped a few places in class this time, my overall score went up. My mom's so proud of me that she's taking me to buy some figures this weekend. You have to come with me!"

I smiled and nodded. "Sure."

Her life, her parents—everything about it was something I envied deeply.

Sadly, I would never have that.