Chapter 6

A string of question marks and shocked emojis immediately filled the screen.

Someone tagged me and asked, "Shiloh, are you okay?"

Someone else sent me a private message. "Shiloh? Is this for real?"

In that moment, the image I'd struggled so hard to build for myself at school was shattered by a single message from Mom. Even if I went back, I'd only be known as the crazy kid who stole money and beat her parents.

She tossed my phone onto the coffee table and looked down at my curled-up figure on the floor.

"Did you hear that? From now on, you'll stay right here with us. Don't even think about going anywhere. Forget about going back to college. You're not spreading your wings and getting away from us."

Dad walked over and kicked my leg. "Starting tomorrow, we're taking the lock off your bedroom door. You don't need any privacy."

They turned off the lights and went to bed.

The living room fell into complete darkness. Only the occasional fireworks outside flickered in the night sky, briefly illuminating my curled-up shadow on the floor.

I lay there for a long time.

Didn't they want me to stay in this house forever? Fine. I'd give them exactly what they wanted.

I slowly pushed myself up, bracing my right hand against the wall as I shuffled back to my room. From under the bed, I pulled out the red hoodie Aunt Janey had bought me last year. I'd never worn it because Mom said red was too flashy and unbecoming of a respectable young lady.

I pulled it over my head. A sharp pain shot through my left shoulder, but I bit my lip and forced my arm through the sleeve.

In the mirror, I saw my pale face and the dried blood at the corner of my lips. My left shoulder visibly slumped compared to my right. But because of the splash of red right by my mouth, I seemed alive for a moment.

I sat in front of my study table and spread a piece of paper.

Stroke by painful stroke, I wrote a line. "Dad. Mom. I'm finally the way you want me to be. I'll be forever obedient, forever quiet, and forever unable to leave this home."

Then, I took a box cutter and walked into the bathroom.

I turned on the tap to let the water fill the bathtub. As the water slowly rose, it covered my bruised shoulder and cracked skin on the back of my frostbitten hand.

Warm water surrounded me like a hug that was due for 19 years.

It felt so nice.

I lifted the box cutter without hesitation. There was even a sense of thrill, like I was looking forward to this.

When the knife sliced my skin open, I felt no pain. Instead, I felt my body grow lighter bit by bit.

The rules, scoldings, beatings, and humiliation that had pressed down on me suffocatingly drained away from that cut bit by bit.

I heard fireworks go off from outside the window.

Dawn broke, and it was the second day of the New Year.

I whispered to myself, "Happy New Year, Shiloh. You're finally free."