The last thing I remembered was the violent swerve of the SUV. The sickening crunch of metal.
Now, there was only the dark.
I floated in a heavy, suffocating void. Voices from the past bled through the emptiness, playing out the worst moments of my life like a broken record.
"Is this a joke?"
Sarah’s voice sliced through my unconscious mind.
"Sarah, lower your voice." My father stepped into my line of sight, shielding me.
"Look at her, Dad. She’s filthy." Sarah pointed a manicured finger at my torn jeans. "This is the girl you’ve been crying over for eighteen years?"
"She is your sister. She is a Smith."
"I am a Smith! I am the daughter you chose! You adopted me!"
"We never stopped looking for Quinn."
"So what happens to me now?" Sarah stepped closer, invading my space. "Do I just disappear?"
"We have plenty of love for both of you."
"I don't want her here!"
Her words echoed, fading into another memory. The hostility never stopped. It only grew.
"You were staring at him again." Sarah backed me into the hallway corner, blocking my path to the stairs.
"I wasn't staring at anyone."
"Kevin is mine, Quinn. Don't play dumb."
"He just asked me about the math homework."
"He feels sorry for you. Everyone pities the kidnapped girl who grew up in trailers."
"Why do you hate me so much? I just want us to be a family."
"We will never be family. You are a threat."
"I didn't ask for this life either, Sarah."
"That's why I put the stolen watch in your backpack."
I froze. "You framed me?"
"And I'll do it again. Mom and Dad will always trust me over a stranger."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. I never exposed her lies. I craved peace above all else, hoping my silence would eventually win her over.
It never did.
The darkness shifted again. The smell of burning rubber filled my nose.
Tires squealed.
"Get out of the street, Quinn!"
"Sarah, turn the engine off. Please." I raised my hands, standing on the pavement.
"You ruin everything!" She gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
"You just gave birth to Mike last month. You need to go back inside."
"Don't tell me how to raise my son! You want him, don't you? You want Kevin!"
"I want you to get help. You aren't thinking straight."
"I saw how Kevin looked at you today. He smiled at you."
"He passed me a plate of cake, Sarah. That's it."
"He wishes he married you! He wishes you were the real Smith daughter he chose!"
"No one is taking your place."
"I'll make sure of it."
She slammed the gas pedal to the floorboards.
"Sarah, stop!"
The sedan launched forward.
A sharp, metallic crack echoed from the steering column.
"The wheel!" Sarah screamed. "It won't move!"
"Hit the brakes!"
The car swerved violently. The bumper missed my knees by an inch.
Metal crunched against the ancient oak tree. Glass erupted into the air, raining down on the asphalt.
Silence swallowed the street. Sarah never took another breath. I walked away without a single scratch.
The void grew colder. The memories jumped forward.
"I spoke to the private investigator." Kevin slammed a manila folder onto our dining table.
"What investigator?"
"The one I hired to look into the crash. The one who told me about the faulty steering."
"The police already told us that, Kevin. It was a mechanical failure."
"You knew about it. You tampered with the car."
"Are you insane? She tried to run me over!"
"Sarah loved you! She was your sister!"
"She hated me! She drove straight at me!"
"Liar! You wanted her dead so you could slide right into her bed."
"I married you to help raise Mike. You were falling apart."
"You manipulated me. You killed my wife."
"I am your wife now, Kevin."
"You will never be her."
He turned away. I stayed. I took the blame, raising his child, cooking his meals, enduring his cold stares.
Then came the final break.
"Aunt Quinn, look at my drawing." Four-year-old Mike held up a piece of construction paper.
"It's beautiful, Mike. Is that a dog?"
"It's a monster. It's you."
I flinched. "Mike, why would you say that?"
"Dad told me the truth. You killed my mommy."
"No, sweetie. It was a terrible accident."
"Dad says you broke the car. You wanted her to die."
"Your father is grieving. He doesn't mean it."
"I hate you! You're a fake mom!"
He spat on my shoes. I stood there, taking the abuse, hoping my endless love would eventually fix them both. Instead of scolding him, I wiped my shoes and offered him a snack.
The dark void shattered.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythmic sound of a hospital monitor dragged me toward consciousness. The smell of iodine and bleach invaded my senses.
Pain flared in my ribs. A dull ache pounded against my skull.
I kept my eyes shut. The harsh fluorescent lights bled through my eyelids.
Footsteps approached the bed.
"Dad, is that woman going to die?"
Mike's voice. Cold and sharp, mimicking his father perfectly.
"No." Kevin replied.
"Why not? I want her to."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I waited for Kevin to correct him. I waited for my husband to show a single ounce of humanity.
A chair scraped across the linoleum floor.
"Because dying is too easy for her." Kevin leaned closer to my bed. "Living is the real torture, Mike. We are going to make sure she remembers that every single day."
