Chapter 1

On my eighteenth birthday, my face was sliced open by a knife, and my fingernails were torn off one by one.

I died at home, drenched in blood.

Right before I died, I desperately begged for mercy, but the person who hurt me bolted in terror.

My soul drifted above my lifeless body.

I bet my mother, who couldn't wait for me to die, was finally getting what she wanted.

*****

More and more blood was pouring out of me, soaking into the floor.

The people attacking me got even more hyped, their excitement growing with each drop I lost.

The tall guy kept slashing my wrist over and over with a fruit knife.

"It's fine. Let her bleed until she can't take it, and then patch her up. She won't die. I've done this before. Trust me," he said.

But my blood wouldn't stop, and they started to freak out.

They were too scared to call 911, so they locked my front door from the inside and bolted out the back.

I watched helplessly as my life drained away, blood pooling beneath me.

As my soul drifted above, my phone suddenly rang.

The message came: [I'm still stuck at training. There is way too much going on this month, so I can't come home yet. I've transferred some money to you. Buy yourself whatever you want.]

It was from my mother, Lily Bennett.

[You've received three hundred dollars!]

The payment notification chimed, sharp and cheerful, slicing straight through the dead silence of the room.

Floating above my body, I looked at the chat window with my mother and couldn't help but think how absurd it all was.

Even as the daughter of a city-level boxing coach, I still ended up getting beaten up by a bunch of ordinary kids my age.

Lily was a total powerhouse. She was independent, sharp, and never let anyone push her around.

When I was six, my dad got caught up with another woman, and Lily went full scorched earth and kicked him out for good.

After the divorce, she got full custody of me.

My dad tried explaining a thousand times. It was all that other woman stirring up drama. He swore he was loyal and never once thought about cheating.

But Lily wouldn't budge.

She was dead set on getting divorced.

I figured she didn't feel anything for my dad anymore. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been so determined.

After the divorce, it was just Lily and me.

She said, "I'm not getting married again, and I'm not having any more kids, so I decided to raise you by myself. That means I won't have as much time to look after you anymore, so you need to learn to be independent, got it?"

She expected me to be self-reliant, keep my emotions in check, and do as I was told, even though I was only six.

But how could I have understood any of that?

Before I was six, I was soaked in my parents' love.

After my dad was gone and I was left alone with Lily, I felt like a wilted flower, starving for even the smallest drop of affection.

I kept ignoring how her eyes turned icier by the day, clinging to her every chance I got, hoping she'd notice me.

But all it did was make her dislike me more with each passing day.

On weekends, I'd go to her boxing gym to see her.

Getting to eat a meal with her felt like the happiest thing ever.

But instead, right in front of all her students, she grabbed me and threw me down hard onto the boxing ring.

Stars flashed in my eyes, my whole body went weak, and I couldn't even get up.

I didn't understand. I wanted her to care about me, that's all.

What did I do to make her so mad?

I was sprawled on the floor and couldn't push myself up.

She smiled at her students and said, "Keep going."

I kept lying there and didn't want to move, hoping she'd come over.

I wished she would notice me.

It didn't matter if it was a slap or a sweet as long as she noticed me.

But none of that ever happened.

She grabbed me off the floor like I was nothing, her face cold as ice. Then she said, "Don't ever come here again.

"Emily Rivers, I'm not asking you. Stop looking at me like you're expecting something. I'm already exhausted trying to give you a better life, so don't be so greedy."

But I was only six.

I wanted her to notice me, and maybe care about me a little.

Even one word from her would have meant the world to me.

Was I greedy?

By the time I was seven, starting my first grade, I was already doing everything on my own.

Other kids got picked up and dropped off by their parents every day.

But I woke up, got dressed, made my own breakfast, and walked to school all by myself.

If I got sick, I'd grab my health insurance card and head to the community clinic alone.

I was already a pro at living by myself.

The nanny Lily hired was there to cook dinner, tidy up, and make sure I didn't drop dead from starvation.

I was running my own life already, so why did she never say one nice thing about me?

What else do I have to do for her to praise me?

My teacher always said I looked zoned out as I sucked the energy out of the room and made people feel heavy whenever they saw me.

I was seriously busting my butt trying to fit in at school.

Was that the reason she couldn't stand me too? Because my eyes always looked so empty?

What do I have to change about myself for her to care?

At school, my teacher led the charge in belittling me, making every day even harder to get through.

Every time I opened my desk drawer, I'd find fake snakes and spiders staring back at me.

At first, I'd scream and bawl my eyes out right in class, and the teacher would toss me out into the hallway to stand there as punishment.

But once I realized they were all fakes, the fear went away.

One time, someone tossed a live toad right into my desk drawer.

Without even thinking, I grabbed that ugly, squirming toad and hurled it straight at the kid who was laughing the hardest.

After that, I was labeled as the bully.

The teacher laid into me with a nasty look and called Lily to come down to the school.