Chapter 1

On the day of the earthquake, I abandoned my paralyzed mother, bedridden at home, hoisted my 80-pound Golden Retriever, and rushed out the door.

Behind me, my mother screamed through tears, "Winifred, I never should've had you. To you, I'm worth less than a dog."

The neighbors all looked at me with contempt.

I stared back at her, my voice cold and steady, "Mom, have you forgotten? Eighteen years ago, during that earthquake, you carried my brother away and left me behind."

I added, "Back then, you said, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to,' then left me all alone in the collapsing house. Now, it's your turn."

*****

The earthquake struck while I was changing my mom Margaret Keaton's pee pad.

The house lurched violently. The chandelier overhead swung like a crazed pendulum, clanging and rattling, while flakes of plaster showered down from the walls.

The thread in my mind that had been stretched tight for eighteen years snapped with a sharp twang.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, only to be crushed into a razor-sharp instant in the midst of that deadly tremor.

Acting on pure instinct, I dropped the filthy pee pad, didn't even look at my mom lying there, her eyes wide with terror from the sudden jolt, and bolted out of that bedroom, thick with the stench of urine and disinfectant.

"Buddy," I shouted, my voice shaking with panic. Even in the chaos, my feet carried me steadily toward the balcony.

Buddy, my 80-pound Golden Retriever, was pawing anxiously at the ground, letting out soft, fearful whimpers.

He was old now, his joints creaky and stiff, and his golden fur shivered with each violent tremor in the room.

I hauled his big body up and slung him over my shoulder with every ounce of strength I had. His heavy weight pressed down on me, but weirdly enough, it steadied me.

"Winifred, are you really just going to leave your own mother behind? You want me to die here, is that it?" My mom's piercing screams echoed from the bedroom, grating on my ears like a rusty saw.

Her voice was warped by terror, thick with real fear and the fury of being abandoned.

"I raised you for nothing. In your heart, I'm not even worth a damn compared to a dog. I hope you die a horrible death," she snapped.

I blocked out her screams, hoisted Buddy onto my shoulder, and limped toward the door, my steps shaky but determined.

A familiar, sharp pain gnawed at my left leg, the mark left from when a shattered beam crushed it eighteen years ago, a wound that even countless surgeries couldn't truly fix.

Whenever I was stressed or had to bear a heavy load, it never failed to remind me, with pinpoint accuracy, of everything I'd been through.

The hallway was already packed with panicked neighbors, everyone scrambling down the stairs, clutching their kids and helping the elderly, all screaming in terror.

There I was, hauling Buddy over my shoulder, nothing in my hands but him, my mom's shrill curses trailing after me. All eyes were on me. It was impossible not to notice.

"Winifred, your mom's still inside." Evelyn from next door stared at me, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Seriously, how could you just ditch your mom like that? That's messed up.

"You always looked like such a good daughter, but when push comes to shove?"

The looks, shock, confusion, and finally, open disdain, felt like needles pricking my back.

I could even hear someone muttering under their breath, "Heartless. Even a dog would defend its owner, but she abandoned her own mom."

I bit down hard on the inside of my lower lip until I tasted blood, just barely holding back the urge to throw up.

I couldn't stop. I couldn't look back.

Carrying Buddy, I practically stumbled down the stairs, blending into the crowd of people still reeling from the shock in the open space outside.

The earthquake had stopped. It was just a short, not-too-destructive tremor, but it had everyone rattled.

I set Buddy down, and he clung to my leg, panting for breath.

I stroked his warm fur, feeling the thrum of life beneath my hand, and my own frantic heartbeat finally began to settle.

Before long, a few kind neighbors helped carry my mom downstairs, wheelchair and all.

Her hair was a mess, her face very pale; she was clearly terrified. But the moment she saw me, her eyes instantly burned with poisonous hatred.

"Winifred," she cried out, her voice hoarse.

She jabbed a finger at me, tears and snot all over her face. "Everyone, you be the judge. There was an earthquake, and she just left me, her paralyzed mother, behind.

"She ran off with that mutt faster than anyone. I raised her, gave her everything, and this is what I get. A heartless brat? In her eyes, I don't even matter as much as a dog."

She wailed and slapped the wheelchair, really selling the role of the poor mother abandoned by her ungrateful daughter.

The whispers around me grew louder, and the accusing looks and pointing fingers felt like they were about to drown me.

"Shameful," someone muttered.

"Who leaves their own mom behind, no matter what?" another person said.

"That girl's got a heart of stone," someone else added.

I stood there, staring at Margaret's face twisted by anger and fear. All the cold walls I'd built up inside over the past eighteen years were smashed to pieces by her crying and the crowd's contempt.

I slowly walked forward, passing through all those judging and curious eyes, until I was right in front of her wheelchair.

I looked at her, putting on a face that was just the right mix of hurt and guilt. My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for everyone to hear as the crowd fell silent.

"Guess this little earthquake is going to be my lifelong crime in your eyes, Mom," I said.

I paused, lowering my eyes to hide the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

My voice carried a hint of self-mockery. "Honestly, I do feel a bit guilty. But I couldn't help it. When the earthquake hit, my first instinct was to grab Buddy and run."

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm not a good daughter," I said.