Chapter 4

Because I refused at dinner, the warmth at the table iced over instantly.

I didn’t want to argue. I stood to go to my room.

Megan panicked, jumped up, and screamed at me, “You’re underage anyway. They won’t give you the death penalty. You’ll be out in a few years!”

“All you’ll lose is a few years of freedom. If I’m convicted, I lose my life!”

She spoke like it was my sacred duty to do time for her.

George chimed in, “We’re family, Grace. Family helps each other.”

At the word family, Mom jumped to their side without thinking.

I had no feelings for George or Megan. My eyes landed on the woman who’d carried me ten months and brought me into this world.

When Mom was pregnant with me, it was a battle—nearly miscarried, shots after shots to keep me. At seven months, tests hinted I might not be healthy. Doctors and relatives urged termination, aid an unhealthy child suffers and the parents suffer more. But mom refused, she would have me anyway.

In the end I was born sturdy as a colt—stronger than most healthy babies. Mom bragged to everyone I was blessed and that she and Dad would love me forever.

I’d basked in her love once. When she stopped, it was even obvious than the love had been—I just didn’t want to admit it. I was lying to myself.

Maybe she sensed me giving up on her. For a second she panicked. Then Megan’s whining drowned it out. The last bit of love I had for Mom dissolved.

I kept refusing. Mom blew up, locked me on the balcony, and told me to “reflect.” It wasn’t reflection. It was coercion.

I thought I’d be crushed—but instead, I felt oddly relieved.

I looked up at the sky. A few faint stars blinked weakly.

People say when we die, we become stars watching over our loved ones. I prayed it wasn’t true. Otherwise, Dad would be watching me suffer—and that would break his heart.

My emotions rose and crashed all night. So many thoughts I couldn’t stop them. For the first time in my life, I felt hatred toward my mother.