Faded Hearts, Broken Bonds
I was born into hardship, but my beauty led to my adoption by the Maddox family.
When I was 18, they brought home two boys.
Dustin Holland, a piano prodigy, quickly bonded with my sister, who was the darling of our social circle.
Nathan Holland remained in the shadows. He didn't like to talk, laugh, or even show the normal emotional fluctuations of a person. His stubborn, wooden gaze was like that of an abandoned stray dog.
Diagnosed with emotional detachment disorder, he became my project. I vowed to heal him.
He locked me in a dark room, scarred my face with a branch, and encased my favorite doll in plaster.
I forgave it all, thinking he was just traumatized.
The elite in the circle mocked us, urging me to abandon him, but I kissed him publicly, declaring, "I love Nathan. Anyone who hurts him will pay."
Then a fire tore through our home. Nathan stepped over my broken body to save my sister, his eyes wet with rare tears.
Turned out, his disorder had a cure. It was just not me.
Reborn on the day they arrived, I looked at the taciturn boy and sneered, "Dad, must we take in every stray?"