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“That’s the most immature stance on life I’ve ever heard. How the hell do you expect to pay for rent in New York City without an actual plan or education?”

“I have a savings. I have a roommate. I’ll find a job that I love.”

“That’s bull shit. You have no idea what you’re doing. You never think with your head. Is there actually anything up there? Or are you just wasting air?”

My fingers curve into my palms.

“You can’t change my mind. It’s already done,” I say. “I thought you’d be happy. This means I’m out of your house.”

“Trust me, that’s the best news I’ve heard all year. I’m just preparing you for the fact that you’re going to fail.”

My heart skips a beat.

I know she’s wrong. She has to be. I’m so sick of her not believing in anything she can’t control.

My dad is sitting completely still, not a single word leaving his mouth.

My eyebrows furrow as the words calmly slip out of my mouth. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m what?” she snarls, standing up.

“I’m going to be successful in whatever I do.” I pause for a moment. “No thanks to you,” I blurt out, scared and gratified all at once.

“No thanks to me? You have no idea what it’s like to actually have to work for yourself and not have things handed to you.”

Handed to me? My entire life I’ve been thrown around like a piñata. She holds everything over my head. I could breathe in the wrong direction and I’d hear about it for months. I had to work for everything.

“I haven’t had things handed to me.”

“So this roof over your head, the clothes on your body, the food in your stomach, that wasn’t from me?”

“You mean the basic human necessities that you as a parent have to provide?”

“I don’t have to do shit for you. I could let you starve and kick you out on the street. But I don’t. I let you take up space in the home that I pay for.”

All the rage comes to the surface—and bursts.

“You realize that you chose to marry my dad, very much aware that I was in the picture, right? I didn’t choose for you to take me in. You did that on your own. Now you act like I’m some burden and I should feel like I owe you something. But I don’t.”

“You know what, if I could go back, I never would’ve married your dad if I knew what I was getting into with you,” she spits. “You’re nothing but a spoiled piece of shit.”

I glance at Dad who’s still seated and quiet. Tears slowly slide down the sides of my cheeks.

Eloise is completely dry—the only emotion she knows how to feel is anger.

“I would’ve been much happier if you hadn’t. So would he,” I spit back at her.

Before I can take a breath, I feel her hand forcefully come across my face.

My cheek stings from the impact of her fingers. Shock overwhelms my body, itching to slap her back.

Don’t do it. This is the only way I can win this battle. I can’t stoop as low as her.

I stare at her, holding the side of my face and I smile.

I have to win this.

“Happy now?” I ask, my voice shaking through my smirk.