Chapter 2
My mother dragged me back home and threw me to the floor. Now, the ice radiating from my father’s cryogenic glass coffin seeped through my jeans, freezing my shattered knees. I was forced to kneel here and "repent."
The ice radiating from my father’s glass coffin seeped through my jeans, freezing my shattered knees.
"Careful, my sweet baby, it’s hot. Mommy peeled the biggest claw for you."
My mother’s voice. Through the thin door, I could smell the rich, buttery aroma of Boston lobster. I am severely allergic to lobster.
What I heard next made my breath hitch. It was a soft, melodic chime. Another warm, golden Petal was blooming on my little sister’s Heart-Seed. Every bite she took, every tender gaze my mother gave her, fed that glowing flower in my little sister’s chest.
My own chest felt like a graveyard. The Heart-Seed beneath my ribs was a hard, dead stone.
My stomach cramped violently. I hadn’t eaten in two days. I dragged my numb legs up and pushed the kitchen door open.
My mother’s smile vanished instantly. "Who told you to get up?"
"Mom," my voice came out as a pathetic croak. "I’m so hungry. Can you just... make me a small plate of roasted potatoes?"
I stared at her, praying. A person without a single Petal can neither trade for their father’s life, nor survive the Heart-Root tree—the Tree Keeper will simply let the black roots devour an empty shell alive.
Just one ounce of pity. Just one sliver of genuine care. If she truly cared, even for a second, my Seed might sprout a single Petal. It could save my life tomorrow at midnight.
My mother picked up a porcelain plate from the counter. She didn’t throw it at the sink. She hurled it directly at my feet.
Crash. Shards exploded against my shins.
"Potatoes?" Her eyes were venomous. "You refused to bleed for your father, you let him rot in that ice box, and you have the nerve to ask for food? Get back to the coffin and kneel until dawn!"
I stared at the shattered porcelain. My litter sister chewed her lobster loudly, not even looking at me. I turned around and walked back to the freezing living room.
By 3:00 AM, the stomach cramps turned into agonizing spasms. I was curled on the floor, sweating through my shirt.
"Mom," I gasped. "Hospital... please. My stomach..."
She paused. For a fraction of a second, I saw hesitation in her eyes.
Then, my little sister’s bedroom door swung open. "Mommy? I can’t sleep. I want sliced apples."
The hesitation in my mother’s eyes evaporated.
She ripped her nightgown from my grip, her expression instantly morphing into gentle concern as she looked at my little sister. "Coming, sweetie. I’ll cut them into little bunnies for you."
She stepped right over my writhing body and walked into the kitchen. She never looked back.
I dug my nails into the floorboards. No. I am going to die tomorrow night if I don’t get a Petal.
I dragged myself up. I stumbled out the back door into the garden. I found a brick near the flowerbed. Without hesitating, I raised it and slammed it down onto my left forearm.
Blood poured down my wrist, dripping onto the grass. The pain was blinding, but it was exactly what I needed.
I stumbled back inside, holding my bleeding, mangled arm up. I walked straight into the kitchen.
"Mom. I’m bleeding."
My mother dropped the apple knife. She gasped, staring at the blood pooling on the tiles.
In my chest, something twitched. The dead, hardened shell of my Heart-Seed vibrated. A tiny, microscopic spark of gold flickered beneath the surface. It was working. She was shocked. She cared.
"Mommy!" my little sister shrieked, pointing at me. "She did it on purpose! She’s faking it so you’ll feel sorry for her! She just wants to get out of saving Daddy tomorrow night!"
My mother’s expression shifted from shock to pure disgust.
She marched toward me and slapped me across the face with all her strength.
"You manipulative, vicious bitch," my mother hissed, standing over me. "Trying to frame your own My litter sister? Trying to play the victim? Clean up your dirty blood and get out of my sight."
The tiny flutter in my chest died instantly.
By afternoon, a massive thunderstorm hit the city. My mother forced me to carry the shopping bags while we walked to the mall to pick up my little sister from her friends. When we walked out, the rain was coming down in sheets.
My mother opened a single umbrella, pulling my little sister tight against her side. I stood in the pouring rain, soaking wet, holding three heavy bags.
Mrs. Gable, our neighbor, ran past us under the awning. She paused, looking at me. "Brenda, your eldest is getting drenched. Why don’t you let her under the umbrella?"
My mother let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Her? She doesn’t have me in her heart. Why should I care about her? Raising a stray dog would be better. At least a dog wags its tail."
She pulled my little sister away, walking into the storm. I followed them, the icy rain plastering my hair to my face.
The wind was howling. As we passed the park, a violent gust tore through the street. I heard a terrifying crack above us. An old oak tree, its roots rotten, snapped.
It fell directly toward us.
"My daughter!" my mother screamed. She grabbed my little sister by the collar and dove forward.
The massive trunk slammed into the pavement. A thick branch crushed directly onto my right leg.
The my tibia snapped. I screamed, collapsing into the muddy water.
A few feet away, my mother was frantically checking my little sister. A thin twig had scratched my little sister’s forearm. A single drop of blood appeared.
"Oh my god, my baby!" my mother sobbed, tearing off her scarf to wrap my little sister’s arm. She picked my little sister up and started sprinting toward the street to find a cab.
"Mom!" I screamed, choking on rainwater and mud. "My leg! Help me!"
She didn’t even break her stride. "I’ll find someone for you after she’s safe!" she yelled over her shoulder.
I was left alone in the mud, pinned under a tree, while the rain washed my tears away.
It took me an hour to drag myself out from under the branch. I crawled to the road. A passing delivery driver finally helped me into his truck and dropped me off at the local clinic.
I dragged my useless, swollen, purple leg into the waiting room.
My mother was standing at the front desk, screaming at a nurse. "I don’t care if it’s just a scratch! If my daughter gets a scar, I’ll sue this entire place!"
She turned and saw me holding onto the wall.
"You followed us here? You’re making a scene and delaying her checkup!" she roared.
I looked down at my mangled, deformed leg, then up at my little sister, who was sucking on a lollipop with a Band-Aid on her arm.
I let out a broken, hollow laugh. "My entire leg is shattered, Mom. Is it really worth less than her papercut?"
"Stop being so selfish!" she screamed, pointing a finger in my face. "I sacrificed my youth to raise you! I fed you! So what if you suffer a little for your family? You are naturally cold-blooded!"
I stopped listening.
I limped away, dragging myself to a cold metal bench at the end of the hallway. I sat down and pressed my hand hard against my chest.
There was no heartbeat in the flower. Just cold, dead silence.
I only had one day left. If this family was only going to feed me to the tree, I couldn’t rely on their love anymore.
