Too bad nothing happened. Killian didn't let Charlotte take control over the basketball team just because she’s the daughter of the school owner. What a bummer. Yes, I have a phobia but why do I anticipated something bad will going to happen anyway? 
Meanwhile, I leave with Mr. Kellan, who drives on the way home.  Mr. Kellan and Coach Killian are twins, and they’re eight years older than me. Yes, they’re my older brothers, and we rarely talk.  Yeah, sure, they’re aware of the bullying, and they told me once, back then, to endure it until I graduate just like what my parents said. I’m in grade 12, a STEM student in MIPS.
“Shan, aren’t you going to say anything about today?” 
I don’t respond, focusing my attention on the view outside the car from the passenger seat. I don’t want to talk about what happened today, or about the other things Charlotte has done to me for 212 days.
I hear him sigh from the driver’s seat. He doesn’t say anything else until we reach home.  As soon as his car stops, I get out and walk towards the main door, opening it before stepping inside the place people call home.  I go directly to my room and lock the door. I slump down on the edge of my bed, my shoulders heavy before I open my bag and pull out my wet, torn school uniform, which is in a plastic bag. Then, I pull out my sketch of the person who probably has my phone.  The guy’s face isn’t familiar to me. Mrs. Lopez was right; he’s probably a new student. However, how am I going to find this guy when Montreal International Private School is big? With a sigh, I place my sketchpad on my bedside table before grabbing my ruined uniform and heading to the bathroom. I toss it in the laundry basket and change into comfortable clothes.
When I hear a knock on my door, I open it immediately. My mother stands in front of me. She usually knocks three times.  My father only yells my name while knocking once.
“Shan, why aren’t you answering my phone calls? Where’s your phone?” 
“I lost it by accident,” I reply simply.
“Lost it?  We can’t afford to buy you a new one—”
“Mom, I need a new laptop for the next semester,” Bella says, interrupting. She’s my parents’ adopted daughter.  You read that right.  Bella is my adopted sister.  We’re not rich, I’m sure, but they always spoil her like we have millions.
My mother looks at her with a smile on her face.  “Don’t worry, sweet pea. Your dad and I are already saving up for you.”  
Yet, you said seconds ago that you can’t afford to buy me a new phone. How ironic, huh? Bella is in her second year of college. She’s two years older than me, and my parents both love and favor her.
When Bella finally leaves, my mother turns back to me. The smile is gone from her face. Very typical of her. “Whether you lost your phone by accident or not, it shouldn’t affect your grades. Stay at the top. Don’t disappoint us,” aniya, before turning away from me.
I sigh as I watch my mother disappear from view.  They love their Bella more than their own Shan. I believe that all parents have a favorite child.  I haven’t felt love since I was a kid.  I’m the kind of child who always does what my parents want. Obedient and a good child. Always at the top of my class, with more achievements than my brothers, but I don’t feel a single shred of love from my parents. Why? Was it because of what happened ten years ago?
They pour their love on Bella, their adopted daughter. She came into our lives after that incident. After I killed my own biological sister, as they always tell me.  Even before Bella came into our lives, my parents loved my biological sister more.  Bella is the same age as her, if she hadn’t died because of me.  'That' memory still haunts me to this day, and it will for the rest of my life. I just wish I’d never existed if I’d known this would be my life.
The following day, Saturday. Usually, I wake up late on Saturdays. I borrowed my mother’s phone last night for my research and projects since I don’t have a phone to use. But I’m surprised by a series of knocks on my door, followed by my father’s voice.  I get out of bed and open my door.
“You have some explaining to do, young lady,” he says seriously.  I swallow hard, before leaving my room and following him to the living room.
I notice Kellan and Killian sitting on the couch, while Bella sits beside Mother, across from the twins.  Father sits in the empty space next to Mother, and I remain standing.  I don’t want to sit next to the twins or get close to my parents. I have issues when it comes to physical touch or getting too close to any of them. 
“We heard about what happened yesterday at school. We received pictures from Charlotte Montreal,” Father begins, looking at me seriously.  I’m sure he’s referring to the cafeteria incident.  “Didn’t we tell you to avoid that Charlotte, whenever possible? It’s going to affect our reputation in public, and our family, Shantal,” Of course, it’s always the family’s reputation that matters to them.
I hang my head, listening to him. How can I avoid Charlotte when we go to the same school?  Same grade, she’s also a STEM student, but in a different section.
“She was in the gymnasium too, with that Charlotte and her friends.  I was just out for a few minutes and came back to find her in the middle of the court,” Killian says.
I don’t respond.
“And she was late for my class because she was in the infirmary,” Kellan comments, while I listen to them.
“You know what happens when you rank second in your class, Shantal. You’ll be out of the house,” Mother says. I’m aware that if I ever drop to second place in my class, they’ll kick me out.  That’s why I’ve tried so hard to stay at the top my whole life. What they don’t know is that I’m exhausted from living up to their expectations. I’m suffocating, but I need to graduate from school because that’s what they want. It’s suffocating me, which sometimes leads to me strangling myself in my room alone and harming myself. 
They’re all aware of the bullying, but instead of reporting Charlotte’s bullying to the school, they choose to tell me to “endure it until you graduate.” What kind of parents would say that to their child who’s being bullied? 
I just want to be free, but they control my life. For eighteen years of my existence, I’ve been their puppet.