Chapter 3
I spent the whole day drifting around outside.
Not a dime to my name, my pockets were empty.
I was cold and hungry, and my stomach felt like it was on fire.
When night fell, I found myself wandering back to that opulent villa, its golden lights shining in the darkness.
It was not that I wanted to come back.
I just had nowhere else to go.
I huddled at the front door, like some stray dog left out in the cold.
I hoped someone would see me and let me inside.
Even if it meant sleeping in that cramped little maid's room.
After what felt like forever, a black car pulled up and stopped at the gate.
The doors opened, and Richard and Linda stepped out.
They'd come back from a fancy dinner, dressed to the nines.
When Linda spotted me huddled at the door, her face instantly darkened.
"Look who decided to show up," Linda said coldly.
I tried to stand, but my lips were so numb from the cold that I couldn't say a word.
Richard let out a sigh.
"Get inside. Don't embarrass us out here," he said.
There wasn't a shred of concern in his voice, just plain disgust.
Once inside, I saw Emily and Henry sitting in the living room, watching TV.
When Henry saw me, he snorted with derision.
"Oh, you came back? I thought you'd stick to your guns," he sneered.
Emily jumped up, putting on a worried face.
"Where have you been all day? We were worried sick about you," she said.
I could see the fake worry written all over her face.
I stared at her and couldn't bring myself to say a word.
Linda tossed her coat onto the couch.
"Realize you were wrong?" she sneered.
I kept my head down, refusing to answer.
"Cat got your tongue? I'm talking to you," she snapped.
"I did nothing wrong," I said, lifting my head to meet her eyes.
"I was just hungry," I mumbled.
Linda looked at me as if she'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
"You did nothing wrong? You talked back to me, and that's not wrong? You ran off without a word, made us worry, and that's not wrong?" she shot back.
"Worried about me?" I retorted. "You were worried about what people would say if I ran off."
Linda shouted, "You!"
She was so stunned by my words that she couldn't speak, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.
"You've got some nerve. Who do you think you are?" she snapped.
She stormed over and slapped me hard across the face.
The burning pain shot from my cheek right into my chest.
My ears were ringing.
"Ungrateful brat! We gave you everything, from food and clothes to a roof over your head, and this is how you repay us?" Linda screamed.
"If I'd known you'd turn out like this, I would've never brought you back," she continued.
Her words cut through me like a poisoned knife, stabbing deep into my heart.
I pressed my hand to my cheek, staring at this raving woman in front of me.
She was my mother.
But she was colder than any stranger could ever be.
Richard pulled Linda back, stopping her.
"That's enough," he said.
He turned to me, his voice cold as ice.
"Go to your room and think about what you've done," he ordered.
I trudged up the stairs, step by heavy step.
Each step felt like I was walking on knife blades.
Their hushed voices drifted up behind me.
"Dad, did you see her eyes? She looked like she wanted to murder someone. She freaked me out," Henry said.
"She's a brat. Ignore her," Richard scoffed.
"Emily's the only one who knows how to behave," Linda chimed in.
I went back to that tiny room and closed the door, blocking out everything outside.
I curled up on the cold bed, my body shaking like a leaf in the wind.
I thought coming home would fix everything.
But this place was colder than hell.
The next day was Emily's birthday.
The house was filled with guests for her big birthday party.
The living room was decked out with balloons and streamers, and Emily twirled around in her princess dress, looking like royalty.
Meanwhile, I was curled up in the corner, wearing some old hand-me-downs that didn't fit, feeling more out of place.
Nobody glanced my way.
I felt like I'd crashed the party, a total outsider in the middle of all their fun.
Halfway through the party, Emily walked over to me.
"Sara, it's my birthday. Can't you at least smile for me?" she said.
She took my hand.
"Come on, I'll take you to cut the cake," she said.
She pulled me right into the middle of the crowd.
A massive three-layer cake was brought out.
Eighteen candles were lit on top.
"Emily, make a wish!" Linda said with a big smile.
Emily closed her eyes and pressed her palms together.
When she opened her eyes, she grabbed the cake knife and sliced off the first piece.
She offered me the slice.
"The first piece is for you," she said.
Everyone's eyes turned to me.
I stared at the slice, whipped cream piled high and bright fruit scattered on top.
My stomach twisted.
Back when I lived with my foster parents, the harshest beating I ever received was for sneaking a bite of moldy cake.
I haven't been able to eat anything sweet since.
I shook my head.
"I'm not eating it," I said flatly.