The Winning Lottery

The fridge hummed low and deep; I clenched the lottery ticket, my fingertip almost sinking into the rough paper. The sharp clink of glass came from the living room. I took a deep breath and slipped the lottery ticket into the pocket of my pajamas. The cold corner of the paper pressed against my skin, like it was hiding a secret that could burn. "Veronica, come out and help me check this ticket." Mother's voice drifted through the door, carrying her usual impatience. I clenched my pocket and, pushing the door open, met my sister Gloria Carter's smiling face. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, her nails painted a fresh cherry red, and waved the bag of chips in her hand when she saw me. "Sister, Mom said she's going to buy me a new laptop." Mother looked up from the ledger, her reading glasses slipping down to the tip of her nose: "Gloria has to take the graduate exam next year; how can she manage without a good computer?" She paused, her gaze sweeping over my sleeves, worn white from washing. "Isn't your old computer still usable? Give it to your sister." My throat tightened, my fingertips rubbing against the outside of my pocket. The number ten million exploded before my eyes like fireworks set off during the New Year, dazzling enough to make me dizzy. "I..." "What do you mean?" Mother closed the ledger, her eyes behind the glasses as cold as ice. "You've been selfish since you were little. You wouldn't even spare a computer for your sister?" Gloria Carter chewed on a chip and smiled, "Mom, maybe my sister just wants to use it herself. Forget it, I won't compete with her." "What do you mean by compete?" Mother slapped the ledger onto the coffee table. "The things in this house should naturally be reserved for you!" I clenched the lottery ticket in my pocket, suddenly feeling the sweat in my palm threatening to soak it through. The surprise I had prepared got stuck in my throat, turning into tiny thorns. Late at night, the kitchen glowed with a dim yellow light. I curled up on a small stool in the corner, counting banknotes. This month's part-time wages had just come in, and I folded three banknotes into neat squares over and over, the corners worn smooth. My mobile phone vibrated in my apron pocket. It was a message from my best friend, Mia Dawson: "How are you planning to spend the prize money? First round's on you!" I smiled at the screen, about to reply, when footsteps from the living room suddenly stopped at the kitchen door. Mother stood in the shadows, wearing pajamas, her hair messy and plastered to her face. She hadn't turned on the main light; only the moonlight outside outlined her hunched shoulders. "Mom?" I hurriedly stuffed the money into the drawer. "Why are you awake?" She said nothing, staring fixedly at the pocket of my apron. That look was too familiar—every time Gloria Carter broke a bowl, every time the house was short on change, she looked at me just like that. My heart sank sharply. Instinctively, I covered the pocket. "I..." "Take it out." Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing. "I saw everything." I froze, blood rushing instantly to my head. The lottery ticket had always been kept close to me—how could she... Mother suddenly lunged at me, her nails digging harshly into my arm. I staggered into the cabinet, my lower back hitting the corner, the pain making my vision darken. "Give it to me!" She screamed as she grabbed my collar, "That's our family's money! You ungrateful wretch, trying to keep it all for yourself?" The drawer was knocked open, three banknotes scattering across the floor. Gloria Carter stood at the doorway without me noticing, arms crossed, sneering, "Sister, you hid it pretty deep." I struggled to hold onto the inner pocket as tears suddenly welled up. It wasn't the pain—it was the force with which Mother gripped my arm, and the greed plainly visible in Gloria Carter's eyes. "That lottery ticket was mine." I gritted my teeth and said, my voice trembling uncontrollably. Mother froze for a moment, then pulled harder: "What's yours is the family's! I raised you all these years—what's wrong with taking some money from you?" She suddenly let go, and I fell heavily to the ground. Gloria Carter came over and kicked my ankle from above. "Sister, be sensible and hand it over. Otherwise, if Mom gets angry, you'll regret it." I looked at the banknotes scattered across the floor and suddenly felt that those three banknotes were glaringly bright under the moonlight. Just like my life of over twenty years—always giving, yet always taken for granted. "I'm not giving it." I leaned against the cabinet to stand up; the pain in my back sharpened my senses. "This is my money." Mother trembled with rage, grabbed the glass cup from the table, and hurled it at me.