Chapter 1

When my mother smiled in front of relatives and said, "Giving birth to her is the biggest regret of my life," I looked at her. This was the eighth time.

My eyes stayed calm, but something inside me died for good.

She thought I would cry like always and beg her to take it back.

I didn't. Instead, I turned around and packed my bags.

Her smile froze. The relatives stopped talking at once too.

*****

The crystal chandelier in the living room was so bright it almost stung my eyes, throwing light on the different expressions flashing across our relatives' faces.

Some were just here for the drama, some faked concern, but most just nodded along, totally numb.

Belinda was right in the middle, with everyone crowding around her like she was some kind of triumphant queen.

She'd just finished saying, "Giving birth to Esther is the biggest regret of my life." The smile on her lips hadn't faded, still carrying a hint of cruel satisfaction.

The atmosphere grew tense.

I set down my utensils, making a soft cling.

Everyone's eyes snapped to me.

I met Mom's gaze calmly.

Those eyes I once wished would show even a trace of kindness now gleamed only with pride and contempt.

She thought I'd go pale, tears brimming in my eyes, just like the last seven times.

Then, with the relatives jumping in with their usual lines, saying, "Come on, you're family," or "Your mom's just got a sharp tongue, but she's soft inside", I'd lower my head in humiliation and give her a step down.

But I didn't.

I didn't even bother to show any emotion.

I'd spent twenty-four years trying to please Mom, enduring everything. It was like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point, and just now, it snapped for good.

So this was what it felt like when one's heart finally died.

It wasn't the kind of pain that ripped one apart. It was a bone-deep quiet, like sinking into the bottom of a lake.

I stood up, the chair screeching as I pushed it back.

"Where do you think you're going? Have you no manners? Our relatives are still here." Mom's face twisted, her voice sharp and shrill.

I didn't glance at her. I just headed straight for my room.

My room was pathetically small, just enough for a bed and a desk. The window looked out onto a blank wall, so it never got any air or light. It was always gloomy and damp.

My younger brother, Keagan Chapman's room was twice as big as mine, faced south, and even had a balcony.

Belinda always said, "Boys need sunlight if they want to grow tall."

I opened the closet. Inside were just a few clothes, so faded from endless washing they were almost white.

My best clothes had all been taken by Belinda and handed off to her niece from her side of the family. She'd sneered at me, "With the way you look, even the prettiest clothes would be wasted on you."

I pulled out my suitcase, an old thing I'd dragged around for seven or eight years. The wheels barely worked anymore.

I packed a few changes of clothes, my documents, and my art supplies.

The commotion in the living room grew louder.

"Oh, Belinda, you really went too far this time. Esther actually believes what you said."

"Yeah, you should go check on her. Don't let her get all worked up for real."

"Seriously, Esther is so insensible. How can she embarrass her mom in front of everyone?"

Mom's footsteps grew louder as she stormed in, her anger practically radiating off her.

"Esther, what the hell are you doing?" she snapped, grabbing the clothes in my hands and tossing them to the floor. "What, you think you can run away? You think you're all grown up now, huh?"

I crouched down, picked up the clothes quietly, folded them neatly, and put them back in my suitcase.

My silence pissed her off even more.

"Cat got your tongue? I'm talking to you. If you walk out the door today, don't even think about coming back," she yelled.

I zipped up my suitcase, the sound loud in the room.

I finally looked up at her, my voice so calm it was like I was talking about someone else's business. "Alright."

Mom froze.

Dad stood at the living room doorway, blocking my way. His face was full of impatience, brows furrowed like he was watching some pointless family drama.

"Are you done yet? Look at yourself. Apologize to your mom, now," he barked. There was not a hint of concern. He was just annoyed that I was ruining his peace.

I rolled my suitcase and walked toward him.

I looked at this so-called father. Every time Mom tore into me, he would just bury himself in the newspaper, zone out in front of the TV, or simply walk out the door.

"Should I apologize for being born?" I asked softly.

His face flushed instantly, like I'd hit a nerve. His lips moved, but he couldn't get a single word out.

"Esther, can you quit the drama already?" Keagan finally tore his eyes away from his mobile game.

Sprawled out on the couch, he added lazily, "You still haven't bought me the limited-edition sneakers dropping next month."