I walked into the storage room. It was packed with junk, leaving only a small patch of bare floor. I looked around and let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
Cold air seeped through the cracks in the walls, carrying the smell of mildew.
Hurried footsteps approached, and when I looked up, Miles was standing in the doorway with his fists clenched. He'd followed me in.
I looked at my son, the child I'd nearly died bringing into the world, and the hard shell I'd been building around myself crumbled in an instant. He reminded me of when he was little, the way he used to come running to me whenever something upset him.
I reached out without thinking, the way I always used to, just to touch his hand and ask what was wrong. My fingers hovered just above his sleeve, not quite touching.
Miles recoiled like I'd burned him. "Can you not be so disgusting?"
His voice was sharp and breathless. "Ari is the sweetest. She's kind and gentle. Why can't you just leave her alone? She's spent the whole year with people whispering behind her back. Can't you see that? Are you not going to stop until you've driven her to her grave?"
My chest tightened as though a vise had clamped around my heart. The dull, suffocating ache spread through me until my nose stung and my eyes burned.
I opened my mouth, my voice cracking. "But I lost my mom and dad too. Those rumors hurt me just as much."
That was what set him off. The disgust in his eyes turned to outright rage, and he shoved me hard from behind.
I lost my balance and slammed into the wall. My temple split open on impact and blood ran down the side of my face.
Miles clearly hadn't expected that. His eyes went wide. But he steeled himself just as quickly, stiffening up and forcing himself to look calm.
"That's what you get for going against me," he said. "You fell by yourself. I didn't do anything."
Then he turned and ran.
Bracing myself against the wall, I pushed myself to my feet. I touched my forehead and looked down at the blood on my fingers with a hollow laugh.
Before long, Grant showed up. He tossed a food tray at my feet, sending lukewarm leftovers spilling across the floor.
"Don't say I didn't feed you," he said. "Eat here. Once tomorrow's over and you've done what you need to do, we're sending you back."
I looked at the tray. "I'm not hungry."
This was exactly the kind of slop they'd fed me at the psychiatric facility. Just looking at it made my stomach turn.
Grant took it as a personal insult and kicked the tray over. "Eat it or don't. Starve for all I care."
He shot me one last glare and left.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. Then, I heard the system's voice.
"Carly, you have 12 hours remaining."
I ran my thumb along the edge of the dinner knife I'd slipped into my sleeve. Laughter drifted in from outside the door, and I smiled too.
"System, do you think they'll regret it?" I asked. "After tomorrow?"
"Carly, do you still care?"
I didn't answer.
…
The next morning, someone ripped the blanket off me. "You're awake, so get up and write the statement."
My head was pounding, a sharp throbbing at my temples.
Grant hauled me to my feet and dragged me to the living room. One of them set a piece of paper in front of me. The other pressed a pen into my hand.
"Write."
I slammed the pen down on the table. "I already told you. I am never clearing her name."
Grant's expression darkened immediately, his brow furrowing. "What is your problem? Your parents have been gone for a year. The rest of us have moved on. Are you going to stay stuck in the same place forever?
"Aria survived a car accident that left her with amnesia. She's spent the entire year dealing with gossip and rumors and nearly fell apart. Hasn't she suffered enough?"
I shouted back. "No, it's not enough! I want her to pay with her life!"
Grant let out a cold laugh. "Your parents' graves are right there. You know what'll happen if you push me."
