My Mother’s Cruel Education Method Novel – My mother had a twisted way of teaching lessons. She’d make an example out of one to scare the other straight. In our family, that meant I was the lesson. My brother, Ryan, was the one who needed scaring. She started this with me when I was four years old.
If Ryan shattered a dish, I knelt to gather the sharp pieces. If he broke a neighbor’s toy, I wrote the apology note. “You’re the big sister,” she’d tell me, her voice leaving no room for argument. “If you can’t control him, it’s on you.” The year I turned eight, Ryan stole from the corner store. When Mr. Carter, the heavyset owner, showed up at our door, my brother didn’t hesitate. His finger shot straight toward me. “She did it.” Mom’s face shifted. Then, her hands were on my shoulders, pushing me forward.
“Mr. Carter,” she said, laying the remorse on thick. “This is on me. A mother’s failure.” “Take her. Do what you have to.” None of us knew it then, but when I walked out the door with him, I was never coming home again. *** Mom pulled the heavyset owner aside. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw her slip a wad of cash into his hand. He looked hesitant, but finally nodded. “Mom?” I called out softly. She didn’t look at me.
Mr. Carter’s greasy hands grabbed me, hoisting me up like a chick. “See this?” he bellowed at my terrified brother. “This is the price for stealing and lying!” I was stunned. Didn’t Mom just pay him? “Mom!” I shrieked. Ryan rushed over, gripping my hand desperately, wailing. “I won’t steal anymore! I swear! Put Emma down!” Mr. Carter just snorted, throwing me over his shoulder as he walked out.
“Too late! You should’ve thought about your sister when you stole and lied!” Ryan scrambled to Mom, dropping to his knees with a thud and wrapping his arms around her leg. “Mom, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! Don’t let him take Emma! Please!” He cried as if his heart were breaking, his small fists pounding the floor in desperation. Mom looked down at him, and a strangely satisfied smile touched her lips. “Remember this. Because of your mistake, you don’t have a sister anymore.” Then she said to Mr. Carter, “Take her somewhere far.
Don’t let Ryan see.” “Mom!” I was completely panicked now. In that moment, I finally understood. She wasn’t joking. She really was giving me away. I was shoved into a beat-up van, a rag stuffed in my mouth, my hands and feet tied. The drive felt endless, lasting until the sun dipped low and the sky darkened. We finally stopped in a village I’d never seen before. When the warehouse door opened, a musty smell hit me. “There’s water and some bread.” Mr. Carter jabbed a thumb toward some boxes in the corner. “Don’t make trouble. Your mom’ll be back for you in a couple days.” Bang. The iron door slammed shut. I heard him on the phone outside. “Don’t worry… far away… won’t find her… we’ll settle the rest later…” The warehouse was pitch black. Only one high ventilation window let in a faint, blurry moonlight.
I waited for a long time. Mom didn’t come. Dad didn’t come. Did they really not want me anymore? That thought pricked my heart like a needle. No. It couldn’t be. Mom said this was just an act, to scare Ryan. I told myself this over and over, like a mantra. But the sky grew darker, and strange noises started in the warehouse. Scritch, scratch. Like mice, or something else. I was terrified. I wanted to go home. The urge grew stronger and stronger. I started stacking the boxes, one on top of another, wobbling as I stood on them, stretching on my tiptoes to reach the window. My fingertips finally brushed the cold window frame. I pushed with all my might. Crash! The boxes beneath my feet suddenly gave way. The world spun.
The back of my head hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud. Strangely, it didn’t hurt.