When I was fifteen, my dad left with his first love. That same day, my mom emptied the house with my little brother, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out. She didn’t say a word to me, not even a glance. Once they were gone, the neighbors started gossiping openly, making sure I heard every word. “Victor’s such a stand-up guy, huh? He’d rather divorce and save a terminally ill child than stay with his family. That’s a real commitment.” “Yeah, they make it sound so noble, but let’s not forget, Victor cheated. And as for Isabella, she’s spent years struggling to raise two kids on her own. What did he ever do for her?” “In the end, it’s Charlotte’s fault. If it weren’t for her, her parents wouldn’t have divorced. Honestly, she had it coming.” So, apparently, my parents were the ones who’d been wronged, and I—left behind—was the one who deserved it. I sat on the floor, hugging my knees, looking around at the house my mom had destroyed. Broken bottles lay everywhere, drawers were tossed around. For a moment, I thought I saw my mom packing things up while cursing at my dad. Then I seemed to see myself telling my dad what happened, watching him sit on the couch, chain-smoking, before finally telling my mom that he had had enough of her and was leaving to pursue true love. Before I could think too much about it, a strange middle-aged woman came in, breaking the silence of the room. “Kid, your mom sold this house to me. Pack up your things and leave.” I looked at her wearily and then buried my head between my knees again. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to speak, but my throat hurt so badly that I couldn’t even get a word out. Suddenly, my hair was yanked, and I lifted my head helplessly to meet the middle-aged woman’s gaze. She was gesturing, and from her lips, it seemed like she was asking if I was mute. Before I could speak, the group of women outside the door started talking. “She’s not mute. She just doesn’t want to talk. Ever since her dad ran off, and her mom slapped her a dozen times, she hasn’t spoken. You want the house? Just take it. She doesn’t have anything left here anyway.” I turned to look at the women at the door, their mockery and disgust clear in their eyes. “Oh? Why’s that?” It seemed like the woman was interested, so the group immediately started telling her everything that had happened. “That’s the story. And she even went to her dad’s mistress’ kid and threatened her. The girl was already fragile, and then she went and told her that her mom was the other woman. The poor girl ended up in the ER that day. You tell me, who would want a murderer like her?” “Her mom’s pitiful, and her dad’s useless. Her mom worked hard, selling things during the day, and working in a bar at night to support the family. Then she came home to find out her husband ran off with another woman. Not only that, but her daughter accused her of being a prostitute in that bar. Now, the whole neighborhood knows. She couldn’t face it anymore, so she had to leave with her son.” After hearing the whole story, the woman’s gaze at me turned more disgusted. I wanted to explain, but I felt like there was no point. I’d tried before, but no one believed me. Seeing my resigned expression, the woman didn’t bother with any niceties. She motioned for her people to drag me out the door. As I stumbled to my feet and took one last look at the house behind the iron gate, I didn’t feel much attachment. I just turned and left. Faintly, I thought I heard those women behind me calling me heartless, saying I didn’t know how to appreciate things. Some even called me a fool, saying I wouldn’t fight back when I was beaten or say anything when I was insulted. I found it a bit amusing. A few days ago, when I fought back and screamed in protest, they said I was just seeking attention. Now that I was silent, they called me a fool. In their eyes, I was probably a “murderer” no matter what I did. Everything I did was wrong. Thinking of that, the bitterness in my heart grew heavier. But soon, I had no time to think about it. I hadn’t walked more than a few hundred feet when my vision went dark, and I collapsed. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. The female officer by my bed noticed I was awake and immediately pressed the call button. After the doctor checked on me, she gently asked, “Kid, what’s your name?”
I stared at her without saying anything, my hands clutching the blanket awkwardly. It wasn’t nervousness, but because I hadn’t seen anyone like her, someone who didn’t have ill intentions toward me. I felt a little lost. “You don’t need to worry. The doctor has treated your injuries. You heard what the doctor said, right? After three more rounds of treatment, your wounds will heal. Kid, tell me, who are your parents? Or do you remember their phone numbers? Do you remember how you ended up in that abandoned building?” I certainly remembered how I ended up in that abandoned building. I had been hungry my whole life, and the kind of hunger I felt was nothing new to me. So, I quickly became alert again. When I woke up, I found that I was being dragged by a beggar into that abandoned building. I knew if I really got inside, there was no telling if I would ever make it out again. I wanted to fight back, but the beggar was an adult, and I was just a weak, hungry girl. There was no way I could overpower him, so I could only hope someone would see my distress. I guess I was lucky. Just as I was about to be knocked out with anesthesia and put on the operating table to have my kidney removed, the police found me and saved me. The female officer saw me trembling and thought I was remembering something terrible, so she gently patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Do you remember who your parents are?” I instinctively shrank back before finally looking up at her. “My parents are both dead.” They weren’t good people anyway. In my mind, they might as well have been dead. The officer looked at me with sympathy, and her hand gently patted my head. Later, when the police investigated, they found that my parents were still alive. However, when they contacted my mom to come pick me up, she refused sharply. “I’ve divorced her dad. This jinx has nothing to do with me. Don’t bother me.” I didn’t remember exactly what else she said, but I’d never forget the looks of sympathy from the officers at the station. Although I knew what the outcome would be when the police called, I couldn’t deny that a part of me had hoped for something different. I hoped maybe my mom had been in such a rush that she forgot to take me. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, she still had a shred of maternal love left and would feel pity when she heard how badly I’d been treated. I hoped she might… show me just a little bit of love. But looking at it now, those were all just foolish fantasies. I looked at the butterfly on the windowsill, its wings broken but still desperately trying to fly. How pathetic.
Later, when the police checked my background, they found that I had an uncle in Stonebrook. They immediately took me there that night. “Mr. Edward Manning, this is your niece, Charlotte Manning.” I followed the police officer, my eyes on Edward, who greeted me with a warm smile. But I felt nothing close to warmth. Instead, he reminded me of my father’s mistress, just as fake—forcing a smile even though he clearly didn’t want to. I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but that didn’t stop me from despising him. I instinctively grabbed the police officer’s sleeve, but she seemed to misunderstand. She smiled and gently placed my hand into Edward’s wrinkled one. “Sir, she’s been through some rough stuff. My colleague should have told you about it on the phone yesterday. From now on, please take good care of her. She could really use some support.” Edward squeezed my hand tightly, pulling me in front of him to say a few caring words, before the police officer finally turned and left. Once the officer was out of earshot, Edward changed his demeanor completely. He frowned and looked me up and down with visible disgust. “What is it with the Mannings? You’re all useless.” With that, he let go of my hand, wiping it off with a wet napkin, scrubbing it like it was covered in filth. I could barely hold back my disgust. I turned to run, but before I could take a step, Edward yanked me back by my hair. “Where do you think you’re going? You stay here now.” He dragged me back with a force that made me wince. “You even dare to glare at me? Wake up, you’re relying on me now. If you don’t stay on my good side, when you turn eighteen, I’ll sell you off for money. And don’t even think about running away. Everyone here knows you’re my niece, so even if you try, I can always find you.” I glared back, my voice rising. “You promised the police you’d take care of me. What if I report you for abuse? You’ll lose your reputation, and then let’s see how you threaten me.” I struggled, my anger rising. “Oh? You really think someone like you—known for being a problem student—will be taken seriously? Or do you think I—someone with a solid reputation—won’t be believed? Let me make it clear, all the kids here trying to get into private schools and their parents know me. So tell me, who do you think they’re going to believe? Me or you?” Edward’s mocking look made my resistance weaken. He was right. I was in an unfamiliar place. Even if I called the police, what difference would it make? Even the officers from Crescent Falls treated him with respect. Here, he probably had even more power. Seeing that I’d stopped struggling, Edward let go of me. “Glad you’ve come to your senses. Now, get to work—time to start mucking out the garden.” I froze, rubbing my sore scalp in disbelief. “Me? Muck out the garden?” He nodded without a second thought. “What, you thought you could eat and drink here for free?” He tossed a filthy shovel in front of me, the stench immediately overwhelming, and a bit of the dirty water splashed onto my clothes. “Once you’re done with that, clean the house. Oh, and cook lunch too.” As he spoke, he grabbed a ragged bag and walked off, heading out to what I assumed was his university. On the way over, I overheard the police say he was a college professor. I guess he had classes to teach. After standing there for a moment, I rushed into the room, grabbed the fifty bucks I found on the table, and headed straight for the nearest restaurant. I wasn’t some kind of masochist. There was no way I was doing his dirty work.
Even though I knew Edward would find me soon enough, I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I hadn’t even had a bite of my hamburger when he yanked me by the ear and dragged me back to his house. After a harsh scolding and being forced to eat the vegetarian meal he’d prepared, I completely gave up on running away. Today’s events proved Edward’s words were true—he could find me fast. Because of that, Edward told me he’d had to skip his daily workout to search for me, so now I had to make up for it by exercising in his place. Strangely enough, after that workout, I didn’t suffer from my usual insomnia. But I still didn’t sleep well. I kept dreaming. In those dreams, I was forced to relive memories of my family. Ever since my little brother was born, my parents had been fighting constantly. The arguments were always about money. My mom criticized my dad for not being capable enough. Despite having a bachelor’s degree, he barely earned more than some blue-collar workers, and worst of all, he was lazy, showing no drive to improve. “I can’t believe I was so blind to pick you out of all my suitors. Look at all the men who were chasing me back then—any one of them would have been better than you now. If I’d married one of them, I wouldn’t be struggling so much right now. I’d probably be on a cruise somewhere, living it up. But no, I’m stuck with you, a useless good-for-nothing.” At first, my dad would argue, but after seeing how much more furious my mom got, he eventually learned to stay silent. In my memory, the balcony was always filled with cigarette smoke. My dad worked longer hours but brought home less and less. My mom claimed that he must have someone else on the side. She fought and struggled, but when she saw that my dad wasn’t changing, she gave up. She stopped treating the house like a home and only came back to sleep. Meanwhile, she used the money I’d saved for tuition to waste on other things. The first time I passed out from hunger, I realized I couldn’t just sit back and wait anymore. So, I started secretly taking a little money from my mom’s wallet every day to scrape by. But money was tight, and over time, my mom noticed. The first time she caught me, she grabbed a belt and started whipping me while I was doing laundry. “You little thief! You’ve learned to steal from me now? What is this? Just like your worthless father, sucking me dry! You ungrateful thing! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be living this miserable life. You’re a burden. I’ve had enough!” I was only in elementary school when I heard my mom’s angry shouting and crying. That was when I started to wonder if I was in the wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have been born. Maybe my mom wouldn’t be so miserable if it weren’t for me. Maybe if I hadn’t stolen money to survive, she wouldn’t be so upset every day. Was I the reason for her unhappiness? So, I started to be more mature. I did all the household chores. At first, I burned my arms while cooking, but eventually, I got pretty good at it. At first, I couldn’t wring out clothes, but after a while, I was able to wash everything and still comfort my crying little brother. At first, I had to hide the food I scavenged at school, but later on, I could walk around proudly, picking up bottles to exchange for a meal. I thought if I was just responsible enough, if I was obedient enough, I could keep up the illusion of peace in this broken home. But then she left. She took my little brother, who was in third grade and only cared about spending her money. She said he would take care of her when she got old. As for me, I was just a leech. My quiet, absent father also left. Even though he would spend his whole life working for someone else’s kid, he walked out without a second glance, leaving me to take all the blame for everything.
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