Chapter 2

Keagan looked at me like I was his personal ATM for luxury stuff.

I couldn't be bothered to spare him another glance.

Right in front of everyone, I whipped out my phone.

The screen lit up, casting a glow over my expressionless face.

I found Mom's number and social media, and hit block on all of them without hesitating.

Mom's eyes went wide in disbelief.

Dad was next. I blocked him without a second thought.

Keagan was last, and got the same treatment.

"You... you defiant brat!" Mom was shaking with rage, her finger trembling as she pointed at me.

The relatives went nuts.

"Is she out of her mind?"

"How could she block her own parents?"

Dad was furious, lunging at me for my phone. "You're out of control!"

I dodged to the side and stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

Mom rushed over, trying to grab my arm, but I nudged her away.

It was barely a touch, but she jerked her hand back like I'd scalded her, stumbling back as if I'd shoved her with all my strength.

"How dare you push me?" she shrieked, turning to the relatives and wailed, "Look at her. I can't believe I raised such an ungrateful brat. She's trying to drive me to my grave."

I ignored her lousy performance, dragged my suitcase around Dad who was blocking the doorway, and made straight for the front door.

"Esther! You stop right there," Mom yelled.

"Esther, my sneakers," Keagan shouted.

Behind me, my mom's furious screams echoed, tangled with Keagan's whining.

I opened the door, and the cold wind hit my face. It was freezing, but it made me feel more awake than ever.

I walked out without looking back, leaving all the shouting and cursing behind that door.

Goodbye, the cage I called home for over twenty years.

I didn't crash at a friend's or relative's place. I didn't want to trouble anyone else with my problems.

I booked a room at the fanciest five-star hotel downtown using a card none of them knew existed.

Dragging my battered suitcase into the grand lobby, I caught the receptionist looking surprised for a split second before she slipped right back into her professional smile.

Once inside my room, I tossed my suitcase by the door and collapsed onto the soft, luxurious bed.

The place smelled fancy, fresh and clean, with a hint of expensive perfume.

I pulled out my real phone, the one I actually used for work.

In the past, to keep my family from getting suspicious, I bought a crappy old phone and a new SIM card, acting like it was the only phone I had.

I popped out the old SIM card, snapped it in half, and flushed it down the toilet.

Watching it get swallowed up by the swirling water, I felt freedom I'd never known before.

Goodbye to the Esther they only ever saw as an ATM.

Goodbye, the pathetic, ridiculous, pitiful version of myself I was for the past twenty-four years.

I logged into my online banking and pulled up Mom's account, the one I could recite in my sleep.

Every month, on the 20th, I'd transfer 10 thousand dollars into it, like clockwork.

To my family, that money was all I could squeeze out of my crappy office job, plus every side hustle I could find, and whatever I managed to save by skimping on food.

They spent it without a care, buying Dad a new car, getting Keagan designer brands, keeping up this whole "middle-class" act that was way out of their league.

But if I so much as thought about buying clothes that cost more than 60 bucks, Mom would go off on me for being a spoiled brat.

I found the automatic transfer setup and hovered my finger over the "Cancel" button.

There were countless nights I'd wanted to do this, but the faint, desperate hope for a shred of motherly love always kept me from doing it.

But now, I didn't hesitate at all.

With a tap, I canceled the setup.

The screen flashed "Cancellation Successful."

I'd just severed the last cord connecting me to that family.

I stepped into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the hot water run over me.

Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirror and making everything look hazy.

I couldn't tell if I was crying or not.

When I came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, I looked at the mirror and saw an unfamiliar-looking girl with cheeks flushed from the heat. For the first time ever, I felt what it was like to live for myself.

The old phone I'd tossed onto the bed was blinking nonstop.

I picked it up. Voicemail was overflowing.

Every single message was from Mom. She started out accusing me, then got more and more frantic, and by the end, she couldn't even hide how panicked she was.