Episode 3

Catherine Howland:

The relationship between Landon and Amy remains a secret to both their families, with plans to disclose it after they’ve been out together for a season, to see how things between them will unfold.

I believe they will be fine.

Lan and Amy seem like soulmates, it's as if they were destined to meet; I can see it in their eyes, hear it in that special tone of voice they reserve only for each other, as if they’re speaking to their other half.

Amy is sweet and gentle, an outgoing girl with a heart of gold. She’s always gracious when she comes over with her mother, who has become a good friend to my own mom.

My mom thinks Amy is perfect too.

I overheard a conversation between her and our neighbor; they both agree on uniting their daughter with my brother.

They'll jump for joy when they find out Lan and Amy have already taken a step ahead and are now in a relationship.

Everyone seems quite happy about them as a potential couple, even I am glad, I really am, I am very glad.

I'm happy because my brother is happy, but then an ugly sob escapes my lips, I can't stop it, I can't stop the anguish.

I drag my nails across my chest, scratching my skin in a futile search for relief, but the internal pain is sharper, so intense that I plead for help to no one in particular.

My heart bleeds for Landon and aches unbearably at not being able to find solace in him.

This has been the case ever since I learned about them, since that message on that night a week ago.

My mind doesn’t help, tormenting me with images of them together, happy and in love, a vision I’ll never have because I had to fall for the wrong man.

It hurts, the dreams I still keep buried deep within my broken heart.

The illusion of a maybe that will never happen pains me.

I have cried every night since receiving that message, cried until there's nothing but pain left, with swollen, red eyes.

Then my bedroom door opens without warning, revealing mom in the doorway, holding a belt in her hands, her expression dark.

The only light that illuminates my room filters in through the hallway.

I sit on my bed, wiping away my tears, and feeling my dry lips as I speak to her.

"Mom?" I say, almost in a whisper.

"I saw the result of your exam, Catherine."

"Yes, I... I got an 8, I'm sorry."

The highest score is a 10, but mom doesn't tolerate anything less than a 9.

"Sorry?" She’s upset.

"I didn’t study enough, it won’t happen again."

Usually, I always score a 10 at school, I try very hard to meet her expectations, but these days I haven't been feeling well and couldn't focus much on my classes.

"No, it won’t happen again. I will make sure this is the first and last time you disappoint me in this way." Her words are cold and void of warmth.

Mom approaches my bed, pulling away the blankets that cover my body, and strikes my legs with the belt.

I feel the pain on the second hit when she strikes again. I bring my hands to my legs, right where she hit, trying to soothe the abused skin, but then she strikes again, and this time my hands are injured.

I'm crying and begging her to stop, promising I’ll do better at school, but she doesn’t listen. She never does, she never listens and it leaves me so frustrated.

"You’re grounded until further notice." She strikes me again. "Forget about going out, you won't be doing it." Another hit. "You will go to school and then straight home." And another. "Are you listening?! You’re not allowed to go anywhere else, I’ll tell your brother he can’t take you out."

"But it's my birthday." I shouldn’t have complained, I shouldn’t have when I know she hates it, hates hearing me when she’s angry.

She drops the belt onto the floor to slap my face, her long, red nails scratching the skin on my cheek.

"You’re grounded, Catherine. Bad girls don't get rewarded by celebrating their birthdays."

She has never done it, never celebrated it.

It’s Fanny’s family who has, it’s my friend’s family that has celebrated all my birthdays since we became friends.

Mom leaves the room, closing the door and leaving my bedroom engulfed in darkness.

My legs hurt, my hands and face too, but what hurts more is knowing I won’t see Fanny on my birthday and that I will miss that outing with my brother.

That excursion to the signing of my favorite author was the only thing that could battle the demons tormenting me inside.

Now I’m unprotected against them, an easy prey for those thoughts that have started to increase with frightening speed.

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