Nothing Left to Owe My Family
Three years after my family committed me to a psychiatric hospital, I finally managed to escape. But my freedom didn't mean much, not when the cancer had already metastasized.
Knowing my days were numbered, I just wanted one decent meal. I used the pocket change I'd scraped together from collecting recycling to buy an ice cream cone—something I had never been allowed to try before.
I stood on the street, happily enjoying it, when a metal chain suddenly whipped across my face.
"Chantal is seriously ill, and you have the nerve to stand here enjoying yourself? I knew you always wanted her dead."
It was my mother, whom I hadn't seen in years. She screamed hysterically, swinging the heavy met