Chapter 2

Still, my sudden compliance managed to stir a small flicker of guilt deep in my parents' hearts.

That evening, they brought me a cello when they returned.

It was from my absolute favorite maker—something that had never happened in my past life.

Over the following weeks, I stuck to my routine at school, grinding through the material until every concept was burned into my mind.

Whenever exhaustion threatened to pull me under, I played the cello for a little while.

The rich, lyrical music offered a brief escape, letting me temporarily forget the crushing pain of being ignored.

Yet even that solitary comfort was ultimately destroyed by my brother.

That afternoon, Jordan—who had never shown the slightest interest in musical instruments—suddenly decided he wanted to learn the cello.

Straining his fragile body, he scooped up the heavy instrument and tried to carry it to his bedroom.

Instead, he dropped the cello down the stairs, where it shattered into pieces.

He scraped his hands in the process.

Looking up at me with wide, doe-like eyes full of panic, he gasped, "Brandon, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!

"I'll fix it for you right now, I promise!"

I stared straight into his eyes and gave a single nod. "Okay."

At my response, Jordan immediately crouched down, frantically gathering the wooden wreckage.

A snapped string whipped free from the soundbox, slicing into his delicate hands.

The second blood welled up, Mom charged at me like an enraged mama bear, jabbing a furious finger in my face.

"It's just a damn instrument! How could you be so cruel? Do you honestly think we would’ve bought you that stupid thing if Jordan hadn't begged us to?

"You don't care about your own brother's health for a single second! All you care about are these cold, lifeless objects! No wonder you're so utterly impossible to love!"

Her words stabbed straight into my heart, twisting deeper until I felt I was bleeding inside.

Right.

I was always the kid who was impossible to love.

Even this cello had only been a gift through Jordan's gracious mercy in the first place.

I cast my eyes down and spoke to Jordan, "Don't bother fixing it. I don't even like playing it anymore anyway."

Jordan cradled his bleeding fingers, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. "No, I have to! I said I'd fix it for you!"

He hunkered back down, stubbornly trying to piece together the shattered violently broken frame.

A fraction of a second later, Dad's hand struck across my face with a brutal crack.

"You reckless piece of trash! Can't you speak to him properly for once?

"Look at the state of your brother, and you're still pushing him! We should’ve never brought that wretched instrument into this house!"

Dad had put his entire weight behind the slap.

Yet somehow, I felt no physical pain.

There was only a heavy, stinging pressure behind my eyes as if tears were desperately trying to break through.

Gazing at my parents, who glared back at me as though I were their worst enemy, I looked at Jordan with complete sincerity.

"I'm sorry, Jordan. You really don't need to fix it for me.

"It's my fault. I won't ask for a cello ever again."

That was a promise.

I would not ask for one ever again.

Not for a cello, and not for any of you.

I was done wanting a family.

As for the things that truly belonged to me, I was never going to let them steal them from me again.