Chapter 7

It was so tragic it almost felt laughable. As I looked at Clive, his face grew distant and blurred in my eyes.

When I spoke, it felt like a knife was cutting through my throat.

I said, "Jelly is dead. Jelly was a living, breathing life.

"Is that all you see—that Alyssa was frightened?"

Clive's face showed his impatience. "It's just a cat, and it happened to fall in.

"Didn't I already tell you? I'll get you another one some other time."

The bedroom door was suddenly pushed open.

Alyssa walked in, holding a bowl of soup. "Lucia, I made you some food."

My temples were pounding. All I wanted was to get up and throw them both out.

But my forehead was burning. My head felt like it was about to explode, and even though I tried to move, I couldn't get up.

Alyssa set the bowl of soup down by my bed.

The nauseating smell of onions permeated the air and invaded my nose.

I almost gagged; glancing sideways, I saw that bowl of chicken noodle soup.

The chicken noodle soup was covered in minced onions.

For ten years, Clive never cared about what I liked.

But Alyssa always knew I couldn't stand onions.

She gave me that innocent, caring look. But deep down, she was daring me.

She did it just like she'd done so many times in the past ten years.

I couldn't get up, barely having enough strength left in my hands.

With veins pulsing at my temples, I used everything I had to knock the bowl of soup off the bed, sending it crashing to the floor.

The sudden, crisp sound of shattering china cut through the room.

Hot chicken noodle soup and broken pieces of china were scattered everywhere—just a mess left behind in seconds.

Clive's face turned stormy.

He snapped, "Lucia, are you losing it again?

"Alyssa was just being thoughtful. She even learned to cook for you. You're being completely unreasonable."

My vision went red, and I screamed, "I don't eat onions. Is that so hard to understand?"

Clive was furious, and he sneered. "Weren't you just fine eating those onions in the turkey the other day?

"You're just being difficult on purpose. Why do you always have it out for Alyssa?"

My heart twisted painfully.

I couldn't say a word. I locked eyes with him, refusing to back down.

Clive barked, "Fine, if you don't want to eat, then just leave it.

"Alyssa, let's go."

The bedroom door slammed shut with a loud bang.

In the wrecked, chaotic bedroom, all that was left was an endless, dead silence.

Soup was scattered all over the floor.

When Clive was eight, he tried cooking pasta for the first time, just to make my fifth birthday special.

But now, at twenty-five, Clive had forgotten my twenty-third birthday.

After our parents' accident, when Clive lost his memory, I never celebrated my birthday again.

Nobody remembered the date anymore, except me.

I lay in bed, staring up at the gray ceiling.

Today was my birthday, and as usual, no one remembered.

Clive said, "Weren't you just fine eating that onions in the turkey the other day?"

Every birthday, I always ended up thinking about that plate of pasta he made for me when I was five.

He patted my head and said gently, "Mom and Dad are busy, but I'll always be here for you."

Liar.

It was fine.

Soon, I'd be gone anyway.

Clive left me first.

This time, I was letting him go too.

I lay in bed, half-awake, lost in thought.

I never wanted to spend another day with Clive and Alyssa.

Once I'd rested and felt better, I'd apply to the institute to leave for Arioville ahead of schedule.

I didn't have a home anymore.

Arioville was a faraway city, and it'd never feel like home to me.

But at least there, I could chase my dreams and build the life my parents always wanted for me.

I drifted in and out of sleep, barely aware of anything.

Suddenly, I couldn't catch my breath, and a weird sensation brushed against my face and neck.

I struggled to open my eyes, only to find a milky white kitten sprawled across my chest, licking my face.

I was so startled I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Before I could even react, I was shaking all over as I grabbed the kitten and tossed it away from me.

The kitten's claws scraped my arm, leaving a thin red scratch. But it sent a chill down my spine.

I let out a scream, and the bedroom door was suddenly thrown open.

Alyssa looked at the kitten I'd just tossed to the floor, huddled up and whimpering.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

Alyssa said, "Lucia, I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean you can take it out on a kitten.

"Clive said you were really heartbroken about what happened to Jelly.

"I did exactly what he said. I searched everywhere and picked out this kitten for you."

I'd always been scared of cats.

When I was little, I got bitten by one, and since then, they'd always freaked me out.

Ten years ago, Alyssa actually saw me bolt because there was a cat hanging around in someone's yard.

So when Clive lost his memory and forgot about Jelly, he saw it in his own yard and couldn't stand the sight of it, saying he wanted to get rid of it.

Alyssa acted all pitiful, pretending to be sympathetic, and said I should take care of the cat instead.

She was trying to get under my skin.

But I couldn't bring myself to let the kitten my parents gave me be abandoned. Even though I was terrified, I kept Jelly with me.

For ten years, I tried everything to overcome my fear, but Jelly was the only cat I could ever accept.

Now, she was pretending to be the good guy again to make things difficult for me.

Clive came in after hearing the noise, and when he saw the kitten cowering on the floor, his face twisted with fury.

He snapped, "You keep saying you can't bear to part with Jelly, but you can still be so heartless to a helpless little kitten?

"Lucia, you're hopeless."

The scratch on my hand didn't hurt.

But it was like being attacked by something terrifying, sending chills down my spine.

I gripped the corner of the blanket, refusing to let Alyssa see me fall apart, but I couldn't stop myself from trembling all over.

Alyssa never missed a chance to rub it in, constantly reminding me how thoroughly Clive had erased me from his memory.

Clive gently patted Alyssa's back.

He muttered, "This is on me. I should've seen it coming. She's always been so cruel."

I shot a sideways look, my vision blurred.

There wasn't even the tiniest hint left of the brother I once knew.

Even the deepest feelings could fade away.

When disappointment stacked up, my heart just stopped caring. It only took a moment for everything to go cold.

It wasn't that I didn't want to be around him for a day anymore.

I didn't want to be near him—not even for a second.

The moment I really made up my mind to leave, all that hesitation, worry, and even missing him—just disappeared, like they were never there.

Clive seemed to sense my gaze.

He turned to meet my eyes, and his eyes were just full of disappointment.

His voice was icy.

He said, "All these years, Alyssa and I really tried our best for you.

"If you really can't stand us, then move out and take care of yourself."

It had been ten years.

Even during our worst fights, he never once told me to leave.

This was the first time he actually said, "Then just move out and live your own life."

For a split second, he looked just like the Clive I remembered from before he turned sixteen—but right then, he felt like nothing but a monster to me.

I dragged myself out of bed, barely able to stand.

Inside, it felt like there was nothing left.

With a strange calm, I slipped on my shoes and coat, walked out of the bedroom, and headed downstairs.

Clive didn't come out. He was still upstairs, comforting Alyssa, who was in tears.

As I was heading downstairs, about to walk out the door, Clive suddenly threw a scarf down from upstairs.

It was the one I knew best.

Clive had hand-knitted it for me when he was sixteen, just before he left for the south with Mom and Dad.

Back then, he was worried about me.

With a gentle smile, he said, "When it gets cold and I'm not around, this scarf I made will keep you just as warm."

I'd kept that scarf tucked away in my closet, and now I had no intention of taking it with me.

But Clive still took it out and, with zero care, threw it down to the floor below.

I looked up, and he was giving me that icy, distant stare.

He said, "Take your own stuff with you. Who's gonna bother tossing it for you?"

I looked at him, stunned.

His face was gaunt, almost unrecognizable, watching me with that same cold, empty look.

These past ten years they really meant nothing at all.

I looked away, bent down, picked up the scarf, and threw it into the trash can next to the coffee table.

I didn't need a brother anymore.

I didn't need anything he ever gave me anymore.

I left home and headed straight to the research institute, where I submitted my application.

I was set to start grad school in Arioville, and after that, I'd stay on at the institute for good.

Once everything was settled, I grabbed my suitcase.

Without a second thought, I bought a ticket for the earliest train and headed for Arioville, thousands of miles away.