Chap-35*Maybe He Loves Me.*

Cynthia Dion:

"Oh, I wish I had better daughters than you two useless pieces of shite," he pushed the plate away angrily but then pulled it back again, "I'm telling you, if you don't win the competition and bring that prize money home, I'll sell you to Mr. Beret," the threat seemed grave. He'd made it clear many times that he'd sell me to his friends once and for all.

"What's dad---," Flora turned to ask me, tears in her eyes, when I told her not to take his words seriously.

"Now go, get out of my sight," Dad said, and we sisters walked back to our rooms, feeling defeated.

"Don't take his words to heart, he says all kinds of nonsense because he's mostly drunk," I said, trying to comfort her, though I was anxious myself.

"But---," as she tried to voice out again, I hushed her lovingly.

"I told you, don't listen to what he says. I will not be sold," I reassured her, when deep down in my heart, even I was scared of my father ever doing that to me.

"Or maybe you won't get sold,"