Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Mom's voice was raw, pointing at the disownment papers scattered on the floor. I stood there crying, completely frozen in place. "That's enough!" A deep voice cut through the chaos. Dad - Richard Sterling - came rushing over. He glanced at Mom in her manic state, then shot me a look. Finally, he steadied Mom's trembling shoulders, his voice carrying barely concealed exhaustion. 'Claire, calm down. We're in a hospital. If you want signatures and fingerprints, we need to get home first. How's she supposed to press her thumb here?" That seemed to snap Mom back to reality, her bloodshot eyes locking onto his. The next second, she broke free from Dad's grip. Mom spotted the medical tray. She snatched up the needle they'd just used on me! Need ink? Let's use this!" he came at me with this twisted grin, grabbing my left hand - the one they'd just drained blood from - with surprising strength. Mom, no!" tried to pull away in terror. ut my blood-depleted body had zero fight left in it. Claire! Have you lost your fucking mind!" ad tried to intervene, but Mom shoved him aside. efore I could struggle, she jabbed that needle straight into my fingertip! The sharp pain shot through every nerve. screamed as bright red blood welled up immediately. Mom held my finger in a death grip, her eyes wild as she pressed it against the signature line. A blurry, twisted bloody thumbprint stained the paper, burning through my heart like acid. Seeing that print, Mom let out this maniacal laugh, finally releasing my hand. The emotional overload hit her all at once. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. 'Claire!" 14.21 400 of Pleed 10 Years of Hate All for the WRONG Daughter! 0.7% Chapter 2 "Mom!" Total chaos erupted. Dad and Lily rushed to her side in a panic. Meanwhile, I was dizzy and fading, collapsing to the floor as everything went black. I woke up on the cold floor of my storage room. Again. Outside the door, I could hear Mom's piercing cries and Dad's helpless attempts to comfort her. "Richard! I can't take it anymore! Every time I see those eyes, I want to die! Look at my arms! Just look!" I quietly cracked the door open. Mom's pale arms were covered in fresh and old cut marks - a horrifying crosshatch of self-harm scars. Dad held her tight, his voice breaking: "I know, honey. I know you're suffering..." Everyone gathered around Mom, worried about her pain, soothing her anguish. Not a single person remembered I existed. I looked down at my hand - swollen into a massive, purple-black lump. I could barely move my fingers. The needle site on my arm was surrounded by dark bruises, every tiny movement sending waves of agony through me. I quietly closed the door and buried my face in my knees. I knew my pain would never matter compared to Mom's.