Chapter 2 I There is not a single memory left

Camellia unlocked her home’s door after arriving from the hospital. As soon as she noticed that her home’s living room was devoid of all the luxurious furniture that had previously been in it, she was hit by a wave of memories.

Her eyes were heated, and the girl’s hand stopped on the doorknob as she scanned the room. Not the slightest memory is still present.

The paintings and photographs that previously covered both sides of the wall have now vanished, leaving only a faint trace. A dark outline, like a picture frame, suggests that something was there before.

The decorations on the wall, which cost millions of dollars, were arranged to cover the entire space, as Camellia can still clearly recall.

The house door was quietly closed as Camellia entered it with exhausted steps.

In an instant, the girl’s body is on the ground. Her head was resting on her wobbly knees as she curled up. As if she weren’t strong enough to survive all that happened in a blitz to wear her out.

She still hasn’t reached the age of 19. She shouldn’t have gone through all of this.

The cries were ready to stop again when she sighed and exhaled deeply, putting an end to it.

After a little period of stillness, Camellia gets up from the floor. She paced the empty room at a furious pace until every part of the house could hear her footsteps.

The girl just paused at the entrance of her bedroom when she got there.

Once more, in this suddenly unfamiliar environment, she cast her gaze in every direction. All that is left is a thin mattress on the floor, a table and chairs, and a little wardrobe on the side because there is no extravagant furniture.

Additionally, there isn’t much clothing in the closet when it is opened.

All of the items were sold, even the jewelry she received as a present from her father.

Camellia entered the room to dress, murmuring; “Now is not the time to worry about that.”

Soon after, she walked downstairs as well, with the intention of raiding the fridge for something. Her eyes darted when she noticed that there was no food stock inside.

She could only find the sandwiches and chocolate jam she had purchased a week before.

Will she consume that every day?

Camellia shifted restlessly, holding her head with trembling hands.

She forgot to do her shopping. However, that is untrue.

The next months’ worth of food cannot be purchased with her trust fund. How did she survive for that long, then?

“What about after that?” She rubbed her face in a state of frantic anxiety.

If things had continued in this way, she might have starved to death at home without anyone being aware of her condition.

Camellia remembered a classmate who might be able to lend her money. She wondered, “Should I call Bella?”

But that wasn’t a smart move considering she was still in the spotlight.

Camellia rubbed her temples and paced back and forth near the pantry, asking, “So what should I do?”

She can avoid being hungry for the next month by calling her mother, Amanda Duncan, who has just become a national sensation.

Camellia stared at her phone intently for a while, since she was afraid of being rejected. Camellia was worried that her mother would end the conversation before she could even say hello.

But she also decided to give it a shot because there wasn’t any other option.

Camellia hoped her mother would answer without raising her voice like before as she hit the call button on the phone’s screen as her hands were trembling.

She called twice more after she was unable to reach her on the first attempt.

Thankfully, a recognizable female greeting voice could be heard on the other end this time.

“Hello.”

She was unable to speak, though, after hearing her icy tone.

Following minutes later, the frosty voice was louder, making Camellia flinch a little. “Are you purposefully silent simply to make me angry?!” Amanda demanded.

Camellia squeezed her clothes uncomfortably and said, “I... Mo-Mother, I...”

Camellia was abruptly halted by the woman who asked, “How many times should I tell you not to call me anymore? I wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed!”

This time, a loud scream startled Camellia and caused her to remove the phone from her ear since it affected her hearing and caused her eardrums to buzz.

Camellia was stunned for a short period of time as she regarded the phone that was still in her hand. The screen briefly flashed, showing that the call was still active.

Once more, she placed the phone to her ear with shaky hands. She hoped that the previous screaming wouldn’t repeat.

Camellia pleaded for her mother’s help in a tense voice and with a somewhat tight chest.

She tried her hardest not to cry, but she knew it would be for nothing.

Camellia didn’t get a pleasant reaction; she got a roar that immediately hurt her ears.

“Damned! I wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t because of you! That old man should have died with you as well. You two have no difference. I’m in so much pain because of you and him!”

Even though her heart was screaming that her father was still alive, Camellia immediately refrained from speaking.

How could her mother use such a word so casually?

“Stop contacting me. You are to blame for everything!”

When the connection was suddenly cut, Camellia’s heart grieved. The girl finally sat on the floor, her face damp from uncontrollable crying.

While her body was still trembling and her knees were limp, she let her sorrow run out onto the kitchen floor. She sobbed loudly till her tears stopped flowing and her cheeks grew swollen.

As she gripped her chest, which was preventing oxygen from entering her lungs, she called her father in her anguish cry, “Daddy.”

Camellia would repeatedly blame herself and wonder aloud what was wrong with her for her mother to despise her so much.

She screamed “Daddy” repeatedly till she collapsed onto the freezing floor.

Camellia had been in that position for a while. She slept in the same place unknowingly till dawn. The girl curled up on the coolness of the kitchen floor while her body shivered. She peered around, the early morning sunlight glaring in through the window vents, blinding her eyes.

Camellia blinked rapidly for a split second. And at that moment, she became aware of the chime of an antique wall clock in the family room.

It was one of those items that didn’t sell well on the market, so it was left where it was.

The morning is past seven o’clock if the count is accurate.

She continued to doze off on the cold floor until she curled up in a fetal position, murmuring, “Let me just sleep for a while.”

When suddenly there was a loud knocking sound coming from the front door’s direction, she was going to shut her eyes once again.

The male voice boomed in a commanding tone, “Miss Duncan, open the door!”

Camellia’s eyelids instantly reopened, and she looked at the hallway that connected the kitchen and the living room while feeling fearful.

The anxiety that was gradually enveloping her at that point was far more intense than the cold.