All I had left was the bank card Grandma had
slipped into my hand. My ticket to college. To
escape. I had to protect it. Even if it meant playing along.
- 6.
I stood silently, a ghost, watching their little. family drama unfold. Sarah glared at me, then buried her face in their arms, sobbing.
“Why are you doing this to me? I’m sick! You’re
so unfair! You want me dead!”
“It’s just money! You’d rather I die!”
“You have Ashley! Why did you even have me?”
Guilt washed over my parents‘ faces. Their
voices, so harsh with me, dripped with
tenderness.
“We’re sorry, baby. Go to your workshop. We’ll
give you whatever you want.”
“Our precious girl. Just be happy and healthy.”
They saw me. Their voices turned to ice.
“Get out of here, Ashley! Stop tormenting your
sister!”
“Why don’t you just die with that old hag?
Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
I stood at the doorway, watching the three of them, my heart a barren wasteland. Last time, they had a chance to save me. But Sarah’s “depression” flared up. They abandoned the search, choosing to comfort her instead. While I was being abused, they took Grandma’s college fund and whisked Sarah away. Flowers in the south. Sunrises in the west. Skiing up north. A pearl bracelet made from seashells they
gathered in New Zealand.
I starved. I bled. They celebrated Sarah’s birthday.
Someone asked about me. They sneered.
“Ran off with some guy. No morals. Waste of twenty years.”
I closed the door, shutting out their charade. I
opened my textbooks. Five years of high school,
three years of hell. I missed my chance at
college. Not this time.
This family. These parents. I didn’t need them.
- 7.
Sarah got her “workshop” trip. Jake’s latest
social media post: Sarah in his lap, beaming.
く
Caption: Of all the fish in the sea, you’re the
only one for me, JJ.
She’d copied and pasted it. Forgot to change
the initials from WW. I shook my head. How
much did he really care? A few sweet nothings,
cheap flowers, and Sarah was hooked. Pathetic.
My English teacher had just talked about young
love. Flowers that bloom too early, wither fast.
Early spring is for putting down roots, not
showing off. Wait until the branches are strong,
reaching for the sky. Then let the blossoms
explode, painting the world with color. We have
time. It will come. At the right time.
I agreed. Closed my phone. A text from the
cutest boy in the grade above, asking me to a
movie. I didn’t even have a path forward, let
alone a route to romance.
Back to my math problems. Slow, but getting
better. Looked up. Late again. City lights. None
for me.
But inside, a fire burned. Waiting for the day I
could scream, “I have no regrets!”
Last time, my life ended at its peak. Caged, I
<
never saw the open sky. This time, I’d break
free. Soar.
Mom’s slap came out of nowhere.
- 8.
“Filthy hands! First you steal your sister’s
clothes, now you’re after my jewelry?”
“Give me the necklace, or get out.”
Her hand stung. My cheek burned. She kept
pushing, shoving, tears welling in her eyes.
“My life is cursed! What should have come,
came late. What shouldn’t have come, came too
early.”
Blaming me, again. For being born before she
was legally allowed to marry. For being her
lifelong shame. Dad, the real culprit, just stood
there, arms crossed, judging.
“We should’ve listened to your mother. Saved
ourselves the trouble. Should’ve gotten rid of
you.”
“Apologize to your mother! And buy her a
bigger, better necklace!”
My cheek throbbed. Mom’s gold necklace was
missing. They blamed me. Instantly. But I
<
remembered Sarah buying Jake a designer
scarf for his birthday. Where did that money
come from?
They’d never suspect their precious daughter.
Only me. This was their chance. To get their
hands on Grandma’s money.
I looked at the security camera outside their
bedroom door and smiled.
“It’s okay. I’ve already called the cops. I’m not
afraid of a record. If I did it, I’ll do the time.”
“The police don’t protect criminals.”
Their faces fell. Hesitation flickered between
them. I pointed to the camera.
“It’s all on tape. If I even stepped foot in your
room, I’ll confess.”
Mom’s brow furrowed. She muttered, “You’ll
pay for this,” and called Sarah.
“Honey, I’m not accusing you, but did you
borrow my necklace? I’m just worried we had a burglar.”
They hung up. Faces grim.
“What are you waiting for? Call the police! It’s
a misunderstanding! You want to send your
<
sister to jail?”
Slapped, accused, and now I was supposed to
fix it. They were always right. Always justified.
“Fine. But I want to live at school. To avoid any
further…misunderstandings.”
- 9.
I escaped to the dorms. Away from the endless
“depression” episodes, the collateral damage.
At home, I was trapped.
They didn’t care. Anything to protect their
golden child. And it was free. They called me a
troublemaker and signed the papers. I took the
house deed with me.
I begged the dorm supervisor, somehow ended
up roommates with Valerie, the class
valedictorian. My first step towards freedom.
Valerie was a shoo–in for a full ride to Stanford.
Nearly perfect scores on every practice test. I
couldn’t stand on her shoulders, but I could let
the wind she created lift me up a little.
I copied her discipline. Used her scores as
motivation. Five points. Ten points. Every inch
was a victory. I couldn’t choose my family, but I
<
could choose my life.
