They Stole My Name and My Life

1: 1

At the entrance to the train station, the gate stopped me. My ID wouldn't pull up any ticket.

Mom glanced back at me.

"Oh, you. When I was booking, I couldn't remember your name for a second, so I forgot to buy yours."

"Just buy your own."

I forced a smile and nodded.

Ever since Gwyneth Sullivan was found six years ago, I, the swapped adopted daughter, had become the invisible one in this house, the one who wasn't even worthy of a name.

Because Gwyneth said my name had been hers to begin with.

Later, all it took was hearing my name and she'd have one of her episodes, screaming that she wanted to kill herself.

After that I could only be called "you, there."

I opened the ticket app. Every seat to Seaport City for the next three days was sold out.

By the time I looked up, my parents and Gwyneth had vanished into the crowd.

I sent a message to the family group chat.

"Mom, Dad, there are no train tickets left. How am I supposed to meet up with you?"

No one replied.

An hour later, Gwyneth posted a selfie in the chat.

Mom answered in a second: "Where did this movie star come from!"

Dad sent a bouquet of flowers.

Ivor James, my childhood sweetheart, transferred three thousand dollars, with the note: "Gwynnie's travel fund."

No one answered my message. No one cared whether I could make the trip or not.

I closed the ticket app and opened my email.

Two offers were sitting there. One from the local Lambert Group, the other from a research institute two thousand miles away.

I chose the second one without hesitation.

From now on, I was going to go find the name that belonged to me.

……

The house was shut up tight, the air thick and sticky.

I dragged my suitcase up to the attic and grabbed the bottle of water off the desk, gulping down a few mouthfuls.

The creaking fan pushed a little coolness my way.

The attic was under fifty square feet, freezing in winter and stifling in summer, the ceiling barely five feet high, so I had to walk bent over.

It was the only space in this house that was mine.

The day Gwyneth was brought home, she saw my room and broke down sobbing.

"At the orphanage I had to cram into a bunk bed, and someone else was living in the room that should've been mine."

Mom and Dad soothed her for a whole afternoon, then told me to give her back the room and make do in the attic for a few days.

They said once Gwyneth accepted me, I could move back and share the room with her.

I thought if I was obedient enough and waited patiently, I'd eventually fit back into this family.

What I got instead was losing even my name.

Early the next morning, I took my own documents and the household register I'd slipped out of my parents' room, and went to the registry office to transfer my residency to where the institute was.

If I was going to leave, I'd leave completely.

The papers would take a week to come through, which happened to be the day they'd get back from their trip.

I got up early on purpose to go to the farmers' market and pick out the freshest vegetables.

I wanted to say a proper goodbye at the dinner table.

Once I left, we probably wouldn't see each other again.

The front door clicked open just as I was carrying the last dish out of the kitchen.

Gwyneth took one look at the food on the table, clapped a hand over her mouth, and bolted into the bathroom. A second later came the sound of her retching.

Mom shook her head at me.

"Gwynnie's carsick, she can't eat anything this greasy. Go make her a pot of plain oatmeal now."

"Okay. You and Dad go ahead and eat first."

"We're not eating either. Gwynnie can't stand a smell this strong. If you want to eat, take it into the kitchen."

I looked at the blisters the heat had raised on my fingertips and said nothing.

Half an hour later, I carried the finished oatmeal into Gwyneth's room.

When I came out, Mom pulled out a shopping bag and handed it to me.

"A gift I brought you from Seaport City."

It was a snow globe with a little mermaid inside.

My eyes stung.

In six years, it was the first time Mom had remembered me.

Passing Gwyneth's room, I heard her on the phone with a friend.

"Did you see the photo I sent you? That snow globe was a freebie they hand out at the tourist spot for scanning a code and adding them as a contact. It almost made her cry."

"She's got some nerve. She knows perfectly well she's not their real daughter and she still won't leave……"

I lowered my head and went back to the kitchen.

Every dish I'd set out on the counter had been dumped into the trash.

Dad, in the middle of pouring himself some water, shot me a glance.

"You, there. I thought you weren't going to eat it, so I tossed it."

I gave a low grunt of acknowledgment.

I never should have had any illusions about family without blood between us. I'd been the greedy one.