Marriage On Hold by Mark Twain 9
Chapter 9 Scales of Justice
I wasn’t present for the court hearing, having entrusted everything to my lawyer.
Dad sat in the defendant’s seat, his hair slicked back to perfection, still trying to defend himself with his warped “Balance Scale Theory.”
“Your Honor, everything I did was to maintain family harmony and fairness!” he declared. “A family is a unit. Members should support and compensate for one another. It’s a traditional virtue! I was just using my own way to teach my daughter to become a responsible person!”
My lawyer stood and presented the deep-red ledger to the judge.
“Mr. Ravenscroft, according to the record in this ledger spanning over a decade, every single compensation burden was borne solely by my client, your daughter Sylvie. Why is that? When your son Barnaby broke a vase, why did six-year-old Sylvie have to pay for it with her allowance? When your son failed an exam, why was Sylvie required to score ten points higher on her next test to make up for it?
“Also, when your daughter won a national-level scholarship, why didn’t you didn’t reward her? Instead, you blamed her for ‘breaking the family’s balance’ and punished her by demanding she use the scholarship money and her hard-earned wages from night shifts to compensate for son’s so-called ‘unemployment losses’ and ’emotional drain”?”
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My lawyer’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word hit, striking a chord in everyone in the courtroom.
Dad’s face grew paler, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He began to babble incoherently, “This was… this was to build her sense of responsibility! It was for her own good! A person can’t achieve excellence without trials and discipline.”
“For her own good?” My lawyer let out a cold, derisive snort.
“When your son needed thirty-three grand for assault damages, you tried to force her into a business marriage with a man fifteen years her senior. And when your son’s leg was broken, you asked her ‘how to balance the scales’, hinting she should compensate with her own organs. Were these all for her own good?”
The courtroom erupted in murmurs.
Every gaze in the room turned toward Dad in the defendant’s chair, their eyes sharp.
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10:39
In the gallery, Mom broke down completely when s
Finally the court delivered is vert
board those words, sobbing uncontrollably
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“Furthermore, due to their long-term mental control and abuse, which have inflicted severe
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On the day they signed the sales contract. Barnaby hobbled into the real estate agency on his crutches pointed a finger at Dad, and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Dad! You can’t sell this house! It’s mine! How dare you sell my house for that ungrateful bitch!”
Dud looked at him, now a useless cripple, his eyes blank. For the first time, he didn’t spout that bullshit “balancing the scales” theory
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