Chapter 6
Around midnight, my door creaked open.
Rowan limped in, looking like hell–skinny, beat up, totally wrecked.
He dropped to his knees by my bed, his voice breaking.
“Mia, I messed up so bad. Can you forgive me? Please?”
“I faked that report because I didn’t want Mom and Dad to hurt anymore. I never thought it would get this crazy.”
I looked at him and almost started laughing.
“Never thought?”
“You didn’t think when you tried to pimp me out to that kidney patient?”
“You didn’t think when you watched me burn while you saved your precious keyboard?”
“Rowan, you didn’t ‘not think‘–you just never gave a shit if I lived or died.”
Every word I said was like a knife to his chest.
Rowan’s face went ghost–white. He grabbed my hands and shook his head frantically.
“No, no, that’s not it! Mia, I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”
“Please, I’m begging you–tell Mom and Dad not to kick me out! I swear I’ll make it up to you!”
I couldn’t listen to this crap anymore. I yanked my hand free and slapped him as hard as I could.
“GET OUT!”
That slap took everything I had.
Rowan’s head snapped to the side and he didn’t move for the longest time.
But he didn’t hit me back like he used to when he got pissed.
He slowly turned back to look at me, the light in his eyes dying bit by bit.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
The next day, I woke up to massive shouting downstairs.
Chapter 6
“You ungrateful piece of shit! Get back here!” Dad’s voice was totally unhinged.
“Let him leave!” Mom’s voice got even sharper. “I’m done with him! Mia’s my only kid now!”
I went to the window and saw Rowan dragging a suitcase, walking away from our house without looking back.
His broken leg wasn’t healed yet, so he was limping pretty bad.
Watching his lonely, pathetic figure disappear, I finally felt like I could breathe again.
After Rowan left, Mom and Dad put all their energy into me.
They hired Michelin–starred chefs to make me every kind of food imaginable.
But I still couldn’t eat anything.
I locked myself in my room, pulled the curtains shut, and lived in darkness.
My physical wounds were healing, but the hole in my heart kept getting bigger.
I had nightmares constantly–always about that night when I was twelve.
Those twisted faces, the cold blade, and Rowan’s back as he abandoned me.
I’d wake up in cold sweats, over and over.
Mom would rush in and hold me, crying as she asked what I’d dreamed about.
I never answered–just stared at nothing until sunrise.
The doctor said I had severe PTSD along with major depression and an eating disorder.
I needed professional psychological help.
Mom and Dad started dragging me to shrinks everywhere–domestic, international, anyone with a reputation, they’d pay whatever it cost.
But all those so–called experts were useless when it came to me.
I refused to talk to anyone.
Whatever they asked, I wouldn’t answer.
Mom and Dad’s hair went gray fast.
They’d lost that superior attitude they used to have, living in constant fear and anxiety.
Dad got drunk more than once and ended up on his knees outside my door, slapping himself.
Chapter 6
“Mia, it’s Daddy’s fault. Hit me, scream at me–whatever you need, just please get better!”
I just listened quietly, completely unmoved.
Dad pushed a thick stack of documents toward me.
“Mia, this is everything Mom and I own–company shares, properties, cash–we’re signing it all over to you.”
His voice was tired and hoarse.
“Starting today, it’s all yours.”
Mom’s eyes were red as she said, “We know this can’t make up for hurting you. But it’s all we can do.”
“Whatever you want to do with these assets, it’s up to you. Even if you burn it all, we won’t complain.”
I looked at those documents and felt nothing.
I didn’t even want to live anymore–what good were these things?
The next day, Dad suddenly said to me, “Mia, Daddy wants to call a press conference.”
I looked up, confused.
“I want everyone to know that you’re our real daughter. I need to set the record straight and show everyone how badly we screwed up.”
His tone was absolutely determined.
‘We already lost our son. Can’t lose our daughter too. People need to see we mean it this time–that we’re gonna do right by you.”
Mom chimed in:
‘That’s right, Mia. After the press conference, we’ll go on a family vacation anywhere you want. How’s that sound?”
They looked at me so hopefully, like they were painting this beautiful picture.
But I just thought it was pathetic and ridiculous.
Ripping open my wounds for everyone to gawk at and judge.
This was their idea of sincerity?
Chapter 7
