After my family abandoned me—I sold my emotions for 800,000 Chapter 12
In the living room, they hovered around me fawningly, asking if I wanted a bite of this or a sip of that.
Yvonne had already been kicked out of the house. My brother Eliot was worried I would be triggered by reminders of her, so he threw all her belongings out too.
But he missed one item: the full–length mirror in the living room.
For more than a decade, that mirror had captured both Yvonne and me in its
reflection.
It caught the warm golden glow of the living room lamps, the exact hue I had always associated with the warmth of home.
But that glow never reached me. It only pooled over the four of them, while I stood on the fringes in the shadows, unable to step
inside no matter how hard I tried.
I suddenly snatched a ceramic mug off a side table and hurled it straight at the mirror.
Amid the deafening crash of shattering glass and the Thorntons‘ shrill screams, I laughed.
It was so pathetically fragile, after all.
A jagged, gaping crack split the broken
surface of the mirror, severing me from the
rest of the Thornton family like an
uncrossable chasm.
I turned to face my brother Eliot.
“Didn’t you once tell me I could cut ties with
this family if I had the guts?”
His face drained of all color instantly.
He stared at me, lips trembling, “Hazel…”
With my father’s eyes flooding red and my mother breaking into wails, I walked straight out the front door.
“From this day forward, none of you have anything to do with me.”
Later, I ran into Yvonne again.
She was being beaten by a haggard middle–aged woman who had a fist tangled in her hair, screaming filthy slurs at her and slapping her across the face repeatedly.
The woman eventually stormed off, leaving Yvonne collapsed in a heap on the ground.
I hesitated for a split second, ready to walk away, when Yvonné suddenly called out,
“Hazel.”
I froze mid–step.
Yvonne lifted her head to stare at me.
Her hair was a matted mess, bloody welts crisscrossed her cheeks, and she grinned at
me wildly.
“See that? That’s my mom. I hate you more
than anything. Why did you get to be born into such a perfect family?
I had to pretend to be you just to steal all the
things you had. I hate green, I hate singing, I hate ballet, I hate every single thing you
love. But I had to act like you just to get even
a scrap of affection…”
She broke into ragged, heaving sobs.
I squatted down in front of her and patted
her shoulder once, sharply.
“You don’t have to force yourself to pretend anymore. No matter how good your act is, you’ll never get that love anyway.”
When I turned to walk away, Yvonne
screamed hysterically behind me, “What are
you so smug about? Do you actually think they love you for real?”
This time, I didn’t slow down or stop.
Celia was waiting for me a little ways up
ahead. She was my bridesmaid, and the same
girl who had been abducted alongside me
back when we were trapped in the Blackpine
Mountains.
She linked her arm through mine, pressing the warmth of her palm into my skin.
I knew she was thinking of the terrible days
we spent together there.
On that freezing, bone–chilling night in the mountains, I’d squeezed Celia’s hand tight and said, “Don’t give up. Our families are definitely looking for us!”
She sniffled, voice wobbly, “But what if… I mean, what if they never find us?”
I stared out the small cabin window at the
endless dark night.
“We still have to live well, no matter what.
There’s always something else wonderful
waiting for us in this world.”
