Chapter 2
Her voice was choked with sobs.
She couldn't get the rest of the words out.
I stumbled backward and fell to the ground.
The back of my head slammed into the ground.
Everything was ringing in my ears, and my vision went blurry for a while.
Above me, a sea of adults loomed.
Reporters, cops, and the Lewis Family, all of them were there.
They all looked at me with eyes full of judgment and disgust, some sizing me up, others barely hiding their contempt.
One of the cops stepped forward to help me up, then addressed Mom in a firm tone.
"Please, calm down," he said.
But even as he spoke, his eyes held a hint of sympathy for her.
The man in the suit was Ryan Lewis, my uncle by law, and he stormed forward, his face twisted in anger, to speak for Mom.
He said, "Why should my sister have to calm down?
"She's been through eight years of hell. Why can't that bastard's kid just be sent to an orphanage?
"The law should show some compassion and humanity!"
Ethan, my ten-year-old half-brother, with his sharp features, pressed close to Mom, his expression full of outrage.
He snapped, "The Lewis Family would never take in a child from a trafficker!"
Even the reporters standing nearby couldn't help but speak up angrily.
"That's right," one of them chimed in. "A child like that shouldn't be brought home by the victim, it would only make things worse for them!"
I just stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do.
With my head down, I could see the tips of Mom's worn-out cloth shoes.
Right next to her were my brother's clean, white sneakers.
My head was still buzzing, and it hurt.
But I shoved my hands into my pockets, trembling, and didn't dare take another step toward Mom.
No matter how loudly the Lewis Family and the reporters protested, it didn't change my fate.
The police still shoved me into the Lewis Family's hands.
Mom didn't even look at me. She grabbed my brother's hand and climbed into the back seat of the black car.
I followed after them, panic rising in my chest.
But she wouldn't let me in, she just shut the door right in my face.
Ryan didn't even spare me a glance. He just yanked the car door open and was about to get in.
But the police officer stepped forward and stopped him.
Ryan let out a cold, mocking laugh, his eyes burning with anger and hatred.
He walked around to the back of the car and popped open the trunk.
Then he shot me a frosty glare and said, "Get in the trunk."
I was stunned, almost flattered that he even noticed me.
Excited and eager, I dashed over to the trunk.
Before climbing in, I nervously slipped off my shoes, making sure not to dirty the car.
I'd never even been in a car before.
Once I was inside, curled up as small as I could, I timidly glanced up at Ryan, trying not to make a sound.
But then I noticed the cop giving him a look of obvious disapproval.
Ryan let out a mocking laugh.
He said, "What's the problem? Is there some law that says a kid can't ride in the trunk?"
The officer frowned but didn't say anything else.
Ryan raised his hand.
With a loud bang, the trunk slammed shut, and everything went pitch black.