842 Days in the Asylum: My Family’s Gift

Lyra’s POV

The Kane hated me for taking their real daughter’s place, so after they found her, they turned me into a scapegoat for something their real daughter did wrong and locked me away in an asylum. I thought I was finally free the day I was released—but they found me again, smiling as they claimed I was actually their true daughter after all.

Eight hundred and forty-two days. That’s how long it had been since I last stood outside without someone watching me, waiting to drag me back inside and force more of those bitter pills down my throat.

“Lyra, go live your life and don’t ever come back!” Annie, my only friend in there, shouted behind the gates before the nurses dragged her away. Her screams faded into the distance, leaving a chill crawling down my spine.

Live my life? I chuckled bitterly at Annie’s words. Now that I was finally free, I realized I had nowhere to go.

I’d been happy enough to not end up in the street. How dare I hope to live my life.

Pathetic, wasn’t it?

I walked slowly toward the main street, but before I could step onto the curb, a car horn blasted behind me. My whole body jerked instinctively at the sound.

A black Mercedes.

I recognized the plate immediately. The Kane family’s car.

When I looked up, Matteo Kane sat behind the wheel, staring at me with the same cold disgust I remembered so clearly. My so-called brother. The boy who grew up beside me before one day deciding I was nothing more than a stray stealing his real sister’s place.

“Get in.”

His voice alone was enough to drag old nightmares back to the surface.

I didn’t react to his words immediately. I turned the other way instead. Across the street was a bus stop.

Freedom.

Whatever love I still had for the Kane had died during those endless days in the asylum. I had promised myself that once I got out, I would never go back to them again.

So I ignored Matteo and headed for that bus stop.

But Matteo caught my arm before I could walk further, his grip rough enough to make me flinch. “Are you deaf?”

Matteo snapped. “Get in the damn car. Father told me to pick you up.”

I tried to shake his hand off, but his grip only tightened until it almost hurt. “Don’t make me angry,” he warned coldly. “You know how that ends.”

He dragged me toward the car and shoved me against the door hard enough to make me stumble. “Open it yourself and get in. I’m running out of patience.”

“Why?” I asked quietly. The pills had slowed my thoughts, made my tongue feel heavy.

Matteo frowned. “What?”

“Why are you here to pick me up?” I looked straight into his eyes.

Now that I was no longer useful to them, all I had left was the label stamped onto me—a crazy woman who had been locked away in an asylum for two years.

Weren’t Matteo, Mama, and Papa supposed to be happy that I was finally gone from their lives?

“No fucking reason. Just get in the car.” Matteo opened the door himself and pushed me toward the backseat.

The familiar scent inside the car hit me instantly, dragging horrible memories back to the surface. Panic surged through me so fast that I suddenly found the strength to wrench myself free.

“No!” I shouted, my voice shaking. Matteo froze for a second, staring at me like he didn’t recognize me. “I want to find my real family!”

My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and showed him Lily’s last message.

“Lyra, I found your real family. Maybe you can go find them after you’re released?”

I didn’t know if Lily’s information was real, but her words had planted hope inside me. A small, desperate hope.

What if I could find my real family?

Matteo looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Lyra, I swear to God—”

Before he could finish, I turned and ran.

Only one thought echoed in my head. I will never go back to the Kane family. They were never my family. They were hell.

Cars rushed past me. One clipped my side hard enough to make me stumble. Bright headlights flooded my vision, and my body froze in the middle of the road.

Just before another car could hit me, a strong arm yanked me backward.

“Are you crazy?” Matteo shouted into my ear.

He sounded furious, impatient—but his arms were wrapped tightly around me, shielding me.

This time, he didn’t bother arguing. He dragged me back to the Mercedes, shoved me into the backseat, and locked the door before climbing in himself.

The drive was silent. I caught Matteo glancing at me a few times, looking hesitant, like he wanted to say something.

I ignored him and turned my head toward the window instead.

Two years ago, I was still Lyra Kane. Even though my life had already started falling apart long before then, I was still the shining daughter of the Kane family in everyone else’s eyes, living a rather comfortable life.

Everything truly collapsed was when I turned fifteen. What should’ve been my birthday became the day Papa brought home a girl named Lily and announced that she was his real daughter—not me.

Matteo, the brother who grew up beside me, was the first to turn on me. He told me to get lost and find somewhere to die. Mother, who used to kiss my forehead every night, couldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore.

At first, I thought I could handle it. I thought I was strong enough to survive losing my place in the family.

I was wrong.

Papa cut off my allowance and said I had no right to spend Kane money. He even threatened to get me expelled from school. When he beat me with his belt, Mother stood there silently, and Matteo sneered that I deserved it for being a stray.

I realized I wasn’t strong after all.

You think I never tried to leave? I did. They just wouldn’t let me.

Some people don’t love you, but they still refuse to let you go. Because your existence reminds them of their guilt. Because they need someone to blame, someone to hurt whenever their anger spills over.

And the Kane had another reason not to let me leave.

One night, Lily and her friends were fooling around at the Kane casino when something went wrong. Using the little gun Papa had gifted her, Lily accidentally shot an innocent customer.

Papa pushed all the blame onto me.

He stood in court and claimed that I was the one who pulled the trigger, that I was mentally unstable and dangerous.

The good news was that I avoided prison. The bad news was that I ended up somewhere far worse.

The asylum destroyed people slowly. Everyone looked at you the same way—like you were disgusting, broken, less than human. After enough time passed, even I started wondering if maybe they were right. Maybe I really was crazy.