Revenge Is A Daughter's Sweetest Dish

r couldn' t afford. My father, who had left us for h

tried to sell her kidney on the black market.

before I finally succumbed to th

er that his new family had expenses, handing h

urteen again, healthy, watching

me, expecting me t

ll have to choose who

my mother' s broken body. I met her tea

oose

pte

eat. The second time I opened my eyes, I was fourteen again, listening to th

illness. My father, Clifton Daniels, left my mother, Edna Brown, with nothing but me. He cut her off completely. For him,

degree, no recent work experience. She took on three jobs-cleaning houses during the day, waiting tables at night, and

expired food from the discount bin and wore clothes from donation boxes. The hunger was a constant, du

the scene with a clarity that still felt like a shard of glass in my gut. She had knelt on the cold, polished floor of his opulent office, her voice cracking as she pleaded for her daughte

n't enough. N

black market. She was scammed, left bleeding in a back alley with noth

was t

it was the

one we lived in before the divorce. Sunlight streamed through the living room window, illuminatin

arents. The divorce papers were spread on the cof

ce tight with impatience. "There' s nothing

king sobs of someone whose world was collapsing. Her shoulders t

whispered. "Don' t do

future that hadn't happened yet. My mother' s hands w

And I had a chance to stop t

But it wasn't the heart of a fourteen-year-old girl. It was the heart of a twenty-some

doesn' t fill your stomach. The o

otesque, a betrayal of everything a daught

cold. "It' s about me. It' s about Karel. I love h

t from a poor family, unsuitable. He had arranged Clifton' s marriage to my mother, Edna Brown, a gentle, kind woman from a respectable, if not wealthy, family. She was meant to be a placid, suitable wife for

ave, Clifton was finally free to chase the ghost of his first love. He was

was barely audible. "Fifteen y

liberated. He couldn' t wait to get out of this house, away from this

look of paternal concern. It was a look I knew was utterly fake.

your mother and I... we just can' t be together anymor

rything so much cleaner for him. A clean break. He could pay his child support, see me on weekends, and

with tears but also with a desperate, clinging hop

bered the cold. The hunger. The feeling of the hospital sheets, thin and scratchy

t happen again. Not

, a knot of grief and self-loathi

se Dad,"

in the air, hea

hat followed

e, his jaw slack.

hope in her eyes flickered and died, replaced by a look

nd steady. I had to be strong. I h

," I repeated, my voi

e swayed on the sofa, her hand flying to her c

pered, her voice a thr

ned expression. I leaned down, my face close to

r chest. "I don' t want to be poor. I don' t want to starve. I don' t want to

e everything, just like before. This way, she would be free of the burden of a child

up and looked

o go when you

it was quickly replaced by a wave of relief so profound it was almos

"Alright then. Go pack a bag, Blake. Just the ess

call, already moving on. He didn' t

breathing filling the silence. I could feel her pain like a ph

urn around.

t her face, I

om, my movements stiff and robotic. Behind me, I heard a low,

price of ou