Chapter 2

On the fourth day after moving in, I found out that even the storage room wouldn't be mine for long.

At breakfast, Mom casually mentioned to my father, Edward Sullivan, "Once Riley's gone, I'm planning to knock down the storage room wall and expand Savannah's walk-in closet.

"She has so many things—one wardrobe is hardly enough."

Dad nodded, biting into his toast. "Sure, we'll have someone come take measurements."

Savannah bit her spoon and said softly, "Mrs. Sullivan, you really don't have to. I don't have that many clothes."

Benjamin laughed and ruffled her hair. "You might not have much now, but I'll take you shopping later."

I sat across from them, eating my cereal in silence.

No one had asked me whether I even wanted to go to grad school or move out.

They just needed me gone. And once I was gone, they'd erase every last trace that I had ever been here.

In the afternoon, Wyatt came over carrying two bags, a large and a small one.

The large bag contained a professional set of markers—128 colors, in a leather case, with the price tag still partially attached.

That set cost 120 dollars.

He handed it to Savannah with both hands. "Benjamin mentioned you like to draw. This set has the full range of colors—give it a try."

Savannah's eyes lit up. She clutched the case, beaming.

Wyatt handed me the small bag.

I opened it to find discounted caramel candy found at grocery stores. The yellow discount sticker with the price of two dollars was still on it.

"I grabbed this for you on the way. You like sweets, right?" Wyatt said.

I'd told him more than once that I didn't like sweets.

In fact, I loved spicy food. In the winter, nothing hit the spot like a plate of spicy tacos, loaded with jalapenos. It had to be so spicy that it made beads of sweat form on my nose.

However, he only remembered what Savannah liked.

"Wyatt, I don't like sweets."

He scratched his head and shrugged it off with a casual smile. "Give it to Savannah then. No point wasting it."

I set the caramel candy down on the coffee table and went back to the storage room.

As I closed the door, I heard Savannah quietly saying, "Wyatt, Riley seems kind of upset."

Wyatt didn't respond.

A couple of seconds later, there was the rustle of Savannah unwrapping the markers, and then his low murmur.

"This color's nice."

He couldn't even be bothered to talk about me behind my back anymore. Instead, he simply acted like I didn't exist and went right on laughing and chatting with Savannah.

That stung colder than getting cursed out ever could.

That evening, I came out of the storage room to get some water. As I passed my parents' bedroom, I noticed that the door was left slightly ajar.

Dad's voice drifted out, tinged with slight hesitation. "Honey, does Riley seem a little off to you lately? She's barely said a word since we moved in."

I stopped by the door, glass in hand, my heartbeat suddenly quickening.

Mom's voice followed right on top of his. She brushed it aside, acting as if it were hardly worth mentioning.

"What could possibly be wrong with her? She's been like this ever since she was little—it's just her personality. A total mute. Don't coddle her, or you'll only make it worse."

Dad fell silent for a couple of seconds and said nothing more.

I stood outside the door, holding the glass of water steady. Not a single drop spilled out.

It wasn't that no one had noticed. They did, but they just didn't think it mattered.

That night, while tidying up, I saw a purchase notification pop up on Savannah's tablet, which she'd left charging in the living room.

It was an order from a furniture brand, totaling 18,000 dollars. The delivery address was our apartment, and the payment was under Mom's name.

After I factored in the bedding set, the curtains, the mattress, and all the odds and ends, I calculated that Mom had spent over 20,00 dollars setting up Savannah's room.

Meanwhile, my storage room didn't even have a folding bed.

Savannah must have felt a little guilty. She dug through a shopping bag and pulled out a dress, handing it to me.

"Riley, I saw this and thought it would look so pretty on you. I bought it with my own money."

It was pink floral, the same style as the curtains in her room. It was her favorite color and her favorite pattern.

Even though I never wore pink and my favorite color was blue, I still accepted it and said thank you. Because at least she still saw me, even if it wasn't the real me.

When I was lying on my yoga mat that night, my phone lit up. It was the confirmation email from the Northwest Base.

"Ms. Riley Sullivan, your check-in paperwork has been approved. Please arrive no later than August 15th. All communication devices will be collected upon arrival."

Mr. Atwood had added a personal note.

"The entire research team is waiting for you. Your data model is the core of this project. Don't worry, everything here has been arranged for you."

I read that message three times.

There were people who thought I mattered and were waiting for me.

It was just that none of them lived in this apartment.