574 words
Y/n pov
It is February half term, I am wearing a cozy onesie, laying on the sofa with a hot chocolate and doing some research on my laptop while the TV runs the evening news.
"An unexpected snow storm has hit the North of Britain, never have we seen this much snow, let's head over to Mark Wellman for the -"
"Y/N!"
"What?"
"GET YOUR LAZY BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! NOW!"
"Ugh, fine."
I roll my eyes as I put my mug down on the coffee table and turn the TV off and head towards the kitchen. From a first glance into this house one would think it was cozy- loving even. I see the family photos lining the walls each time I pass, full of those big, stupid grins. It's all a big deception, however, cause I'm not even in any of them, and sometimes it takes a lot of effort not to smash my fist through their perfect lives without me. You'd think the whole family deserves to be in a family photo, right? I scoff and try to look anywhere but the photos, ending up turning my head to catch a little glimpse at what my brother George is doing through the open door upstairs. What a surprise, glued to his phone, AKA doing jack shit. He obviously has more time to himself than me, so why doesn't he get picked on?
As I trudge closer, the sight Henry's shadow already washes a shiver down my spine. I barely take two steps into the kitchen before-
"Y/n, you haven't done anything today other than sit on your greedy, worthless butt, why haven't you sorted the dishwasher out, huh?" he questioned with his bushy slug of a mustache.
"First of all, I was doing my research just now, second, there is literally nothing for me to put in the bloody dishwasher, and -"
His finger flies up abruptly as to silence me, "Don't speak like that." He grumbles, his head rising higher just so he can glare down at me. He then spits in my face, making me wince, "You very well know that your brother needs his plate taken downstairs."
"Why? because he works so hard on his exams, he has no energy left to lift his pinky toe? Why do I have to be his personal slave? I work just as hard, if not harder -"
"How dare you call yourself better than him! You always had a big ego, now go to his room and fill the dishwasher, I'll think of your punishment later" he points his finger at me and smirks, knowing that I can't do anything to win the fight.
I open my mouth to say something, to defend myself. But I know what happens when I fight back too hard. I've been conditioned to keep my mouth shut. My shoulders burn with a sting and my jaw wrenches to try and stifle my anger. I strain out a sigh in annoyance and head upstairs to George's room. But to Henry, I always do something wrong.
"DON'T GIVE ME THAT ATTITUDE!"
This is bullsh*t. Every f*cking day. Do this, clean that, help George, praise George. He's only a year older, I've done just as much as he has, why does he get it easy? Why can't we just be treated the same? Why does this happen to me? Even when I've tried everthing, just to maybe have a slither of respect, George gets the cake to himself. And I'm the one to clear the mess up.
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