Chapter 5: Family Fallout

My mom closed the door.

She leaned against it for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as if holding in a scream.

My sister, who had been holding it in all night, finally broke down, sobbing at the table.

She crumpled into her arms, mascara streaking down her cheeks, shoulders shaking with every breath.

My dad, unable to hold back any longer, slapped me hard across the face.

For a second, nobody moved. Even the refrigerator stopped humming. I tasted blood, but it was the silence that hurt most.

I wasn’t prepared and fell to the floor in disgrace.

My knees hit the wood, and my elbow knocked against a chair leg. I tasted blood.

My head hit the corner of the table.

It hurt—a buzzing pain.

My skull throbbed, and hot tears pricked my eyes. I pressed my palm to the spot, feeling sticky wetness.

My mom, heartbroken, hugged my sister’s shoulders and said to me,

She rocked Rachel gently, her voice trembling with anger.

"Melissa, don’t blame your father for being harsh. Tonight, you really let us down."

Her disappointment felt heavier than the slap.

"Have you forgotten how many times I’ve warned you?"

"Why did you go downstairs without permission? Why did you talk to him? Are you really that shameless?"

Each word stung more than the wound on my head.

Blood oozed from the wound on my forehead, trickling into my eyes.

I blinked, trying to keep my vision clear, but everything smeared into pink and red.

Everything blurred into a haze of red.

The room spun, voices muffled like I was underwater.

Clutching the wound, I tried to explain.

I reached for a napkin, my words tripping over each other.

"I’m sorry, I thought he had already left. I didn’t mean to…"

My voice was hoarse, choked with tears. I could barely see my mom’s face.

Suddenly, my sister grabbed my collar, screaming hysterically:

She yanked me to my knees, face twisted with fury. I could smell her perfume and tears.

"Running downstairs dressed like that, showing your bare feet in front of him, and even pulling out that stupid box to get his attention—Melissa, who are you trying to seduce?"

She shook me, her nails digging into my skin.

"Do you even get who Jason Grant is? He’s way out of your league. How dare you set your sights on him?"

"Do you realize that because of your shamelessness tonight, I might lose him?"

Her words were like ice, sharp and deliberate.

"Can’t you live without a man? Even your own sister’s boyfriend—you want to steal him too."

She let go, shoving me backward. My head hit the wall with a dull thud.

With that, my sister stormed out the door.

Her heels clicked angrily on the floor. She grabbed her purse and keys, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.

My mom rushed to stop her.

"Rachel, where are you going at this hour?"

Her voice rose, desperate and pleading.

Rachel glared at me with hatred.

She paused, hand on the doorknob, and shot me a look that could cut steel.

"In this house, it’s either her or me. If she’s here, I’m gone."

She left without another word, the garage door rumbling a moment later.

Soon, I heard the car start in the garage.

The engine revved, tires screeching as she sped away.

My mom sighed deeply.

She looked at the ceiling, her hand pressed to her forehead.

My dad slammed the door in anger.

He stomped down the hallway, muttering under his breath. The house felt colder.

I spoke quietly.

My voice barely above a whisper, I said, "I’ll stay out tonight."

My mom hesitated.

She frowned, rubbing her temples, torn between anger and worry.

"Where will you go?"

She hugged herself, glancing at the clock on the microwave.

"I’ll stay at a hotel. When I was overseas, I always stayed in hotels—I’m used to it."

I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice wavered.

Back then, I couldn’t bear the inhuman treatments. Whenever I got the chance, I’d run away from the hospital.

I’d sneak out the back, money tucked in my sock, calling an Uber to the cheapest place I could find. The lumpy beds and stained curtains didn’t bother me as long as I was alone.

I stayed in the cheapest motels, just to escape the painful therapies they arranged for me.

The smell of bleach and the constant hum of the vending machine became a strange comfort.

But my sister always found me quickly and brought me back.

She’d show up in the lobby, eyes cold, telling the front desk I was her “wayward little sister.”

My mom was silent for a long time, then finally nodded and said,

She looked tired, voice resigned.

"Tonight really was your fault. Go out, then. When your sister calms down, I’ll bring you back."

Her words echoed, final as a slammed door.