2 — MANIPULATIVE PARENTS…

ASTRID

I wake up with the scent of the stranger who saved me still clinging to my skin. Who was he and how did he get into my house?

Only close friends and family were invited to the party. Did my parents bring a guest?

Judging from the overpowering scent of disinfectants, I can tell that I’m in a hospital. As I struggle to sit up, I’m bombarded with horrifying memories from last night and my heart twists with unbearable pain.

Nathan and Claire. The two people whom I called family have finally succeeded in breaking me to pieces.

I’m still struggling to come to terms with my pathetic situation when the door swings open and a blonde-haired nurse walks in.

“Mrs. Callaway. You’re awake. My name is Hannah and I’ll be your nurse for today.”

Mrs. Callaway. I once adored that name. Now it leaves a bitter taste in my throat.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like death.” I don’t bother with mincing words. “Who brought me here? Where are my parents?”

The nurse frowns. “Your parents? The only person who accompanied you is a man who wishes to remain anonymous. I was actually hoping a family member would come by to check on you. So far, no one has showed up.”

An anonymous man? Could it be the same man from last night?

“Uh…can you describe this anonymous man?”

“I’m sorry but like I said before, he would rather not be identified.”

I nod and look away. Strange.

My parents did not bother showing up even after I passed out. I should be numb to their lack of care by now, but it still hurts like hell every single time I have to experience it.

“Anyways, I’m glad you’re looking better this morning. The doctor asked that I deliver some news to you.”

The nurse thrusts a white envelope into my shaky hands, smiling from ear to ear.

My pulse goes into overdrive as I stare at it like it contains a ticking bomb.

“What is this?”

“Read it, ma’am.” She says excitedly.

I lower my head, my cheeks reddening with shame.

“I’m dyslexic. Yes, I can read but I’m too worked up at the moment. I won’t be able to focus. Can you help me…?”

“Sure.” She says softly, her eyes shining with pity.

God, I hate it when people “pity” me after finding out about my disability. I’m dyslexic, not on life support.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Callaway. You’re one month pregnant!”

I stop breathing altogether, my eyes widening in shock.

“What did you say?” I whisper, feeling my entire body grow numb.

“I said you’re pregnant. Congratulations!”

Suddenly, it feels like the AC has been cranked to its lowest point. Cold air seeps past my skin and wraps around my bones in an almost painful chill.

In another universe, this would’ve been happy news. Nathan and I have been trying to get pregnant for the past three years with no luck. I almost declared myself barren.

Now, my greatest prayer has been answered but all I feel is regret. All I feel is this overwhelming, ugly sense of emptiness.

“Mrs. Callaway, are you okay?” The nurse asks, sounding unsure.

“She’s fine. Please leave us.”

My head snaps in the direction of the voice and I hate that my heart instantly swells with joy when I see my parents at the door.

“Mum, dad!”

My mother looks chic as always in an overpriced Chanel dress and my father looks just as handsome standing beside her. The Montessori’s are one of the wealthiest and most prestigious families in New York City and they definitely look the part.

“Hello, munchkin.” My father whispers, walking towards me with his arms outstretched.

I promised myself that I wouldn’t shed another tear, but that nickname has my chin wobbling and my lips trembling. I cannot remember the last time he called me munchkin.

“D-dad…”

I go on my knees and lunge towards him, burying my face in his chest and crying my eyes out. I’m just so relieved to be held. The last time my father comforted me was ten years ago — the same day I was adopted.

That day, Claire had looked me dead in the eyes and told me that the Montessori’s only adopted me to serve as their servant, and she would always remain their top priority.

For what seems like an eternity, my tears flow like a river. I cry for my uncertain future. I weep for my shaky marriage and my unborn child. I wail from the pain of betrayal.

Dad remains frozen in place, awkwardly patting my back and murmuring words of comfort in my ears.

Finally, when I have no more tears to shed, I lean backwards and rub at my eyes like a five year old.

“Are you okay, Munchkin?” Dad whispers, softly rubbing my back.

I give him a grateful smile. “Yes, dad. I feel better.”

“Well, I understand that you’re upset because you’ll have to abort the baby. But nothing a good cry cannot fix, right?”

His words hit me like a punch to the guts. I recoil sharply, staring at him in shock.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I’m sure your father did not speak Latin, Astrid dear.” My mother cuts in, coming to a stop beside her husband.

For a second, it feels like a dark, evil shadow has descended into the room. I look at my dad, like really look at him… and I almost gag at the icy, calculating look in his eyes.

That is not the look of a father who genuinely cares about his daughter. It’s the expression of a predator waiting to strike.

“You want me to abort my child?”

“Well, that is the only viable option considering the circumstances, no? We all saw the video of your husband proposing to Claire. Oh, wait. He’s not your husband anymore. He’s Claire’s fiancé now.” She flicks a judgemental glance at my stomach.

“I mean, it is obvious to everyone that Nathan is in love with my daughter. I don’t think he would drop to his knees with joy when he finds out that you’re pregnant for him, do you?”

I pause for a moment, silently stewing in a deadly combination of anger and shock. For ten years, I silently endured their bullying and ill treatment. I believed that somehow, it was my fault that my adoptive parents never seemed to accept me.

But today, I can feel those ten years of hurt and resentment finally struggle to the surface. The furious, insecure teenager inside of me is begging to be seen and frankly, I’m tired of holding her back.

“Do you realize that this is the most inhumane, disgusting thing you can ever say to someone, especially your own daughter?”

My mother seems taken back, blinking in shock at my outburst. Dad, on the other hand, just appears disappointed in me.

“Astrid, what is this crazy behaviour? I did not raise you to talk back to me.”

The urge to apologize and shut my mouth is strong, but I’ve come too far to turn back now.

“If we’re thinking about it, you never really raised me, did you, mother? You simply grabbed me from the orphanage like a piece of bacon and put me through years of hell and torment. What did I ever do to deserve this treatment? I never begged you to adopt me. You should’ve just left me there—!”

Thwack!

It happens in a blur. My head snaps backwards from the force of the slap and pain explodes in my brain.

“Watch how you speak to me, you ungrateful little urchin. If not for me and the Montessori family, you would be rotting in Ray County Orphanage like the useless, dyslexic child that you are. You will speak to me with respect!”