Blood Doesn’t Make Family

Chapter 2

Zara’s POV

The hotel room ceiling had forty-seven water stains. I'd counted them all through the sleepless night, my phone buzzing incessantly beside me like an angry wasp. Katy's name flashed across the screen for the fifteenth time in three hours.

“Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.”

I hit decline again, watching her contact photo disappear—the selfie we'd taken at my birthday party last year, both of us laughing at some stupid joke she'd made. How easily laughter could turn to lies.

The rage sat in my chest like a living thing, feeding on every memory I'd once treasured. Eight years of friendship reduced to ash.

“Buzz. Buzz.”

"Fuck off, Katy," I whispered to the empty room, hitting decline so hard I nearly cracked the screen.

But it wasn't just about her anymore. Robert's cheating was nothing new—I'd caught him before, forgiven him before, made excuses for him before. But Katy? She was supposed to be different. She was supposed to be my person, my chosen family when my real family made me feel like an outsider.

My real family.

The thought struck me like lightning. My parents. They'd take me in, at least temporarily. They had to. I was their daughter, after all.

The morning sun felt like a personal insult as I pulled into my childhood driveway. The house looked smaller than I remembered, more worn around the edges. The garden my mother used to tend was overgrown with weeds, and the paint was peeling from the shutters I'd helped my father install when I was sixteen.

I sat in the car for a full five minutes, rehearsing what I'd say. I couldn't tell them the truth—that I'd walked in on my fiancé fucking my best friend. They'd probably blame me somehow, say I wasn't woman enough to keep my man satisfied. That was their way.

The front door opened before I could even knock.

"What the hell are you doing here?" My mother's voice carried the same warmth it always had when addressing me—which is to say, none at all.

"Good morning to you too, Mom." I forced a smile. "I was wondering if I could—"

"If you could what? Move back in? At twenty-eight?" She crossed her arms, blocking the doorway like a bouncer at an exclusive club. "What happened now, Zara? Did that boyfriend of yours finally get tired of your drama?"

The word 'drama' hit me like a slap. The same word Robert had used last night.

"I just need a place to stay for a few days while I figure things out. Please, Mom. I wouldn't ask if—"

"Figure what out?" My father appeared behind her, his reading glasses perched on his nose, newspaper still in his hand. "What's wrong with that apartment you're so proud of?"

"There's been a... situation. I just need—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, what now?"

The voice came from the stairs behind them, and my heart sank. Lori. My perfect older sister, descending like a queen granting an audience to her subjects.

"Lori, I wasn't talking to you—"

"No, but you're talking AT us, as usual." She pushed past our parents to face me directly. "Let me guess. Prince Charming finally realized what a pathetic, clingy mess you are?"

"Lori—"

"Or wait, did you finally catch him cheating? Because honestly, it was about time. Everyone knew Robert was screwing around. Even I knew, and I barely tolerate your existence."

My mother shot her a warning look, but there was no real heat in it. There never was when Lori was being cruel to me.

"Look, I just need—"

"You just need, you just need, you just need." Lori stepped closer, and I could smell her expensive perfume mixed with morning coffee. "Do you know what I need, Zara? I need you to stop showing up here every time your pathetic life falls apart."

"That's enough," my father said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"No, Dad, it's not enough. I'm tired of pretending." Lori's eyes were blazing now, years of resentment spilling out like poison from a broken bottle. "I'm tired of acting like she's my sister when she's nothing but a fucking charity case you picked up from the gutter."

The world stopped.

"What did you just say?" My voice came out as a whisper.

"Oh, you heard me." Lori smiled, but it was sharp as broken glass. "Poor little Zara, finally learning the truth. You want to know why you never fit in? Why you never felt like you belonged? Because you fucking don't belong here."

"Lori, stop." My mother's voice was strained now.

"Stop what, Mom? Stop telling her the truth? She's not our blood. She's some random kid you and Dad found abandoned like a fucking stray dog, and for some godforsaken reason, you decided to keep her."

I looked at my parents, waiting for them to deny it, to tell Lori she was being cruel and wrong. Instead, I saw confirmation in their guilty expressions.

"Is that true?" The words scraped my throat raw.

My mother sighed like I was asking about the weather. "We were going to tell you eventually."

Eventually. Twenty-eight years, and eventually never came.

"We found you when you were a baby," my father said, not meeting my eyes. "Left in a park, dirty, malnourished. Social services said you'd been abandoned."

"So you... adopted me?"

"Not officially," my mother said. "Too much paperwork, too expensive. We just... took you in."

Took me in. Like a stray cat.

"But you told everyone I was your daughter. You put me on your Christmas cards, your family photos—"

"Because it was easier than explaining," Lori spat. "Do you know how embarrassing it was, growing up with people assuming we were actually related? Having to pretend you were my real sister when you were just some discarded trash they felt sorry for?"

The pieces were falling into place now. Every family gathering where I felt like an outsider. Every Christmas where Lori got the expensive gifts while I got practical things. Every birthday where they seemed to forget until the last minute.

"All these years," I said slowly, "you let me believe I was your daughter. Your real daughter."

"You were easier to manage when you thought you belonged somewhere," my mother said with clinical detachment. "Children who think they're wanted cause less trouble."

"And you've been nothing but trouble since day one," my father added. "Always needing something, always asking for help, always causing drama."

"Drama?" The rage I'd been swallowing all night erupted like a volcano. "What drama, Dad? Working my ass off to pay for Lori's college textbooks when you were 'tight on money'? Taking care of you when you had your heart attack because Lori was 'too busy'?

"That's different—"

"Different how? Because I wasn't really family? Because I was just the charity case who owed you for not leaving me in that park?"

"Don't be so dramatic," my mother said. "We gave you a home, food, education—"

"You gave me the bare minimum while showering Lori with everything I could only dream of!" My voice was rising now, twenty-eight years of hurt pouring out. "I spent my entire childhood wondering why I wasn't good enough, why you loved her more, why I always felt like I was on the outside looking in.”

"Well, now you know the truth," Lori said with satisfaction. "You can stop pretending we're family."

"Spare us the sob story," my father said. "We did our duty. We raised you, and now you're an adult. What more do you want?"

"I wanted you to love me." The admission came out broken and raw. "I wanted to matter to you. I wanted to be enough."

"Well, you're not," Lori said with brutal finality. "You never were, and you never will be. You're not our blood, Zara. You don't belong here, and you never did."

My mother stepped forward, but not to comfort me—to make room for my father to close the door.

"You can come by later to get your things from your old room," she said. "But don't expect to stay here. We've done enough for you."

The door slammed in my face.

I stood there on the porch and realized that every single memory was built on a lie.

I drove back to the apartment in a daze, my mind replaying every moment of my childhood through this new, horrifying lens. The apartment complex looked different now—less like home, more like the last refuge of a woman with nowhere else to go.

The key still worked. Of course it did—it was my lease, my apartment, my name on the bills. But the moment I stepped inside, I knew I'd made a mistake.

Robert's fist connected with my cheek before I could even process that he was there. The impact sent me stumbling backward, my vision exploding with stars.

"You fucking bitch," he snarled, advancing on me. "Do you have any idea what you cost me last night?"

Another punch, this one to my stomach. I doubled over, gasping.

"Katy won't even talk to me now because of your dramatics. She thinks I'm some kind of monster."

A kick to my ribs sent me sprawling across the floor I'd mopped just two days ago.

"Five years I've put up with your pathetic, needy bullshit," he continued, punctuating each word with another blow. "Five years of listening to you whine about your job, your family, your insecurities."

My hand closed around something in my purse—the small switchblade I'd started carrying after being mugged last year. Robert had mocked me for it, called it paranoid. Now it might save my life.

"And for what?" He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "For some frigid little girl who can't even satisfy her own man? No wonder I had to look elsewhere."

The blade snicked open in my palm.

"You want to know why I fucked Katy?" His breath was hot against my ear. "Because she actually knows how to please a man. She doesn't just lie there like a dead fish—"

I drove the blade into his thigh with everything I had left.

Robert screamed, stumbling backward as blood bloomed across his jeans. I scrambled to my feet, the knife still in my hand, pointed at his throat.

"Stay the fuck away from me," I panted, backing toward the door.

"You crazy bitch! You stabbed me!"

Robert lunged forward despite the blood streaming down his leg, his face twisted with rage. "I'm going to kill you for this!"

"If you take one more step, I'll slit your throat and I fucking mean it!" The knife trembled in my hand, but my voice was steel.

He paused, something in my eyes making him reconsider. Good. He should be afraid.

"You think you can just walk away?" he snarled, pressing his hand against the wound. "You think you can stab me and just leave? This is my home too!"

"Your home?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You've never paid a single bill here, Robert. Never bought groceries, never lifted a finger. This place only exists because I've been killing myself to keep us afloat."

"Where are you gonna go, huh?" His voice turned taunting, cruel. "Back to mommy and daddy? Oh wait—they don't want you either, do they? Nobody wants you, Zara. You're nothing without me."

The words hit their mark, but instead of crumbling, I felt something fierce and final snap into place.

"Maybe you're right," I said, still backing toward the door. "Maybe nobody wants me. But at least I'll be free of you."

I bolted through the door, slamming it behind me as Robert's curses echoed through the apartment. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get my keys out, the switchblade still clutched in my other hand.

"ZARA!" Robert's voice boomed from inside. "YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE! GET BACK HERE!"

But I was already running down the hallway, taking the stairs two at a time. Behind me, I heard the apartment door slam open, heard his heavy footsteps pursuing me.

"I'll find you!" he shouted after me. "You can't hide from me forever!"

I burst through the building's front door and into the morning sun, my car keys finally finding their way into the ignition. The engine roared to life just as Robert appeared in the doorway, blood still seeping through his fingers.

I was finally done.

But where the hell was I supposed to go now?