Chapter 3

My words hit Margaret like a sledgehammer to the chest.

She choked, her eyes bulging as if they might pop out of her head, staring at me in fear.

She thought no one but the people who were there that day knew about it. With all the chaos, no one would bother remembering some random woman's gossip.

What she didn't know was that later, dragging my busted leg from one shelter to another like a beggar, I kept asking around, again and again, until I pieced together the truth about her real face after she abandoned me.

"You're slandering me," Margaret yelled, her bravado barely hiding her panic.

She jabbed a trembling finger at me. "Winifred, I gave birth to you, I raised you, and this is how you repay me?

"Spreading lies to ruin my name, you wretched ingrate. If I'd known you'd turn out like this, I would've choked you to death the day you were born."

This was exactly how she operated.

Every single time her lies get called out, and her selfish, nasty side gets exposed, she instantly morphs into the most venomous witch, dumping all the blame on me like it's second nature.

"Reputation?" I echoed, like it was the funniest joke I'd ever heard. "Mom, ever since you chose to save your precious son and left me to die in the rubble, you lost any right to talk about reputation with me.

"That word means nothing coming from you."

I stopped looking at her and turned to the neighbors, their faces a mix of shock and judgment. My voice was steady and clear. "Folks, sorry for the drama today.

"Yeah, I left my mom behind and only took Buddy with me. That's the truth. No excuses. But why did I do it? You just heard my reason. And this leg?"

I pointed at my left leg again. "This is what she left me with eighteen years ago. Today, I'm just returning the favor."

With that, I didn't bother with Margaret's hysterical sobs and her rambling curses behind me, or the awkward stares from the neighbors. I just bent down and gave Buddy a gentle pat on the head.

"Buddy, let's go," I said softly.

He whimpered, rubbed his wet nose against my palm, then stuck close to my side, his big body blocking out all the gawking.

I straightened up, dragging my leg, the one that always aches when it rains, but right now felt filled with a weird new energy. Step by step, I left that suffocating place behind.

Behind me, Margaret's screaming spiraled out of control, while the neighbors finally unleashed their accusations and gossip, all directed at her.

"I never thought she was this kind of person."

"No wonder her daughter treats her that way. She deserves it."

"How could anyone be so cruel to such a little girl?"

Those voices drifted past my ears like the wind, but they barely made a ripple in my heart.

Did I hate her?

Of course, I did.

But after eighteen long years, that hate has frozen solid, locked away deep inside, never causing a ripple anymore.

After leaving the neighborhood, I didn't go to the office, and I didn't head back to my apartment either.

I needed some time to wrap my head around everything that went down today.

I took Buddy and headed out to a small park on the outskirts of the city.

It was quiet, with barely a soul in sight.

I found a bench and sat down. Buddy flopped down at my feet, resting his big head on my shoe, those soft brown eyes gazing up at me, full of trust.

As I stroked his soft, warm fur, my memories involuntarily drifted back eighteen years, to the night that changed my life forever.

Back then, I was eight, and my little brother, Beckett Keaton, was six.

We lived in an old apartment building. That night, I was already asleep when I was suddenly jolted awake by a violent shaking.

The bed was shaking, the table was shaking, and dust was drifting down from the ceiling.

I freaked out and yelled, "Mom?"

Then I saw my mom burst into the room.

Her face was twisted in pure terror. She didn't even look at me, who had been thrown off the bed and pinned in the corner by the wardrobe, my left leg trapped.

Instead, she rushed straight to Beckett's bed, scooped up the still-sleeping boy, blanket and all, and bolted out of the room.

"Mom, help me. My leg hurts so much," I cried out, reaching out to grab her.

She paused for a split second, and just when I thought she was going to turn back, she only turned her pale face halfway and rushed out in a rapid voice. "Winifred, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I'll come back for you."

Then, clutching Beckett in her arms, she disappeared into the flickering shadows at the doorway without looking back.

The massive wardrobe pinned my left leg down, the pain so sharp it nearly made me pass out.

The house kept shaking, and things kept crashing and breaking all around me.

Darkness, fear, and the crushing despair of being left behind flooded over me like a tidal wave.

I cried and screamed until my throat was raw, until I couldn't make a sound anymore.

Outside, there was chaos, shouting, running, and crying.

I could even hear my mom nearby, using a gentle, anxious voice I'd never heard before, soothing Beckett. "Beckett, don't be scared. I'm here."

Her voice was so close, but somehow so far away.

It was right there, like she was whispering in my ear, but at the same time, it felt like she was worlds apart.

She never came back.

I waited all night in the freezing wreckage, pain and fear eating me alive.

My mind kept slipping between clarity and haze.

When I was lucid, the pain and cold gnawed at me; when I drifted, all I saw was Mom's determined figure vanishing into the darkness, Beckett clutched in her arms.