Chapter 7
I was too scared to even move.
After what felt like forever, all I could do was stammer, my heart pounding with fear.
"I'm sorry."
It was always my fault.
That was what everyone said, right from the day I was born.
Dad and Grandma were always yelling at me.
Whenever people in the village saw me, they'd just shake their heads and let out a sigh.
They'd say, "Having a girl like this is just a waste of money, what a curse."
Before I turned three, Mom would sometimes say a word or two to defend me.
But after what happened when I was three, she only ever looked at me with nothing but cold hatred.
So I thought, it must've been my fault.
So I just got used to saying sorry.
Even though I never even knew what I did wrong.
Ethan's grip kept tightening around my neck, the pressure growing stronger and stronger.
The nanny obviously didn't care about me either. She just kept wiping down the kitchen counter, pretending not to notice anything.
He didn't let go until I was gasping for breath, on the verge of passing out.
Finally, he let go, his eyes red and swollen as he got to his feet.
He snarled, "I hope you all rot in hell."
I watched him stagger away, barely managing to whisper, "I'm sorry."
The nanny made me stay in a small room on the first floor.
There was nothing in there, just a bare floor, no bed, no blanket, nothing at all.
She said to me coldly, "The Lewis Family is in this mess because of you and your family.
"You only deserve to sleep on the floor."
My skin felt greasy and grimy.
I could smell my own stink, like it was clinging to me.
I wanted to ask if I could take a shower, or if there were any old clothes I could wear.
But when I saw her icy, indifferent face, I just couldn't get the words out.
In the dead of night, I curled up in the corner, dozing off.
As I drifted in and out of sleep, my forehead was burning up.
My head felt like it was on fire, and my throat burned sharply.
I fumbled my way up in the dark, pulled the door open, and went out to find some water.
The door opened.
But I could just make out Ryan and the doctor talking in the living room.
The doctor said, "Ms. Lewis is showing signs of PTSD.
"We need to take things one step at a time.
"It's best to keep her away from anything or anyone that might remind her of those years."
Ryan's voice was full of anger and pain.
He said, "We can keep her away from everything else, but that child is another story."
He paused, his voice becoming urgent and pleading.
He asked, "Dr. Miller, is there any way you could officially diagnose Emily with a severe mental illness?"
The doctor was silent for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh.
He said, "So you want to use Ms. Lewis' mental health as the reason.
"You're saying she's not fit to raise the child, so you can send the kid to an orphanage?"