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Why?

My breath hitched. I couldn't believe it. He did it again.

It's always about my brother. Tom this, Tom that. Like does he even care?

I doubt it.

"Tom always tells me which road to take." My father speaks. "Tom always makes me breakfast."

Am I not good enough that he has to bring my brother into every conversation? When I ask him for help on homework, he yells at me as if I'm nothing.

"Tom knew this when he was your age!" I wanted to scream. I am not my brother. Does he not see that? He always asks Tom to do things with him. He went swimming with Tom, hugged him, took him everywhere, loved him.

I'm the scum that sits in the back.

"Is that how you write, not even on the lines? Pathetic." He sneers. "You don't even know anything."

Tears pool up in my eyes, but I do not let them fall. "Don't be smart with me young lady. You act like you know everything. You know nothing. Don't talk to my son with such attitude."

It was like I wasn't even his daughter. He never said anything to Tom, when he slammed the car door against my leg. But the one time I called him an idiot, all hell broke loose.

"What did you call my son?" He screams. I shudder, tears were threatening to fall.

"Nothing, sorry."

"Sorry? What did you call him?"

"An idiot." I whisper as my eyes fall to the floor.

"IDIOT? You're the idiot! How dare you call my son such a thing?" He slaps me. My face throbs, and my face hurts.

"I-I-'m sorry. Please."

"Get out of my house you stupid girl."