Trash Count Family Novels & Stories

"Eileen, you need to look at the company group chat right now!" My stomach dropped. I opened WhatsApp, and the unread notifications were already past 99. Someone had dropped a photo into the group chat. It showed Mom standing outside our office building, holding a huge cardboard sign. The sign had a few large words on it. "Ingrate Eileen Allen abandoned her parents! Shame on her!" Below, in smaller letters, it said I had forgotten my roots after getting married, let my parents go hungry, forced my sister-in-law to return to her parents' home, and called the police on my brother.

To keep it a surprise, I had made up the demolition story as a throwaway excuse. Once I figured it out, I found the whole thing laughable. I never expected Calum and Eliza to believe an excuse I made up on the spot. I couldn't hold it in and started laughing. "Demolition? That was just something I—" Before I could finish, Calum shouted for me to shut up. "Don't even think about it. The house belongs to Mom and Dad. It could never be yours. "You're just a piece of trash they picked up off the street. How dare you think you deserve a share of the money? Between an adopted son and a biological grandchild, Mom and Dad know who matters more."

I said, "Please speak to the patient's son, Jonathan Pickle, about this from now on. I'm not her daughter, so I won't be paying for her treatment anymore." As I hung up and put my phone away, I heard Dad's voice come from behind. He asked happily, "Why are you back so early, Tia?" My eyes welled up. In my past life, Dad had been in poor health after working himself to the bone. He was strong enough to raise me alone and get Stoneridge Group through several crises, yet he'd chosen to jump off a building on the day the company went bankrupt. I knew it was because he didn't want to drag me down with him.

I didn't bother with the gifts Mom had given me or the flashy jewelry Henry had tried to win me over with. And those old family photos? Burned. I wasn't the type to cling to the past. If I was leaving, I'd do it clean and final. Dragging my suitcase downstairs, I caught Mom dabbing ointment on Betty's arm. Mom shot me a cold look. "Oh, so I scolded you a little, and now you're running away? How mature. Fine, leave. Maybe the house will finally be peaceful without you. Come back when you marry Henry."

"Go ahead and bid on whatever you want today. Don't worry, I'll cover it all." Her friends cheered loudly. "Chloe, you're amazing!" I couldn't help but snicker. Chloe had absolutely no idea how things stood with her family. Since my rebirth, my dad had been slowly cutting off ties with the Parker family's businesses. The only remaining collaborations were small contracts worth tens of thousands. The Parker family enterprise was barely surviving. Just as I was about to move Carmen somewhere quieter, Jacob spotted me. "Jack?" Then Chloe's friends noticed me and started making a ruckus.

"Wyatt, what are you making a fuss about now? It's just a watch. It's not like you wear it anyway. What's the big deal if Pat borrows it for a bit?" Unable to hold it back any longer, I roared, "It was my father's! Patrick, must you take even this? Aren't you afraid my dad will come for you at night?" Hearing my words, Chelsea looked a little embarrassed. "It's fine, Pat. Just give it back. I'll buy you a new one. It's bad luck wearing something that belonged to a dead person anyway." Callista chimed in right after, "Yeah! Mom will get you a bigger and nicer one!"

"It's not a big deal." She smiled against my chest and patted me on the back. "I'll go get the trash bags." Four large, black bags later, the two of us lugged the heavy plastic down the stairs and into the garage. Hensley stopped in the kitchen, waving me on. "I'm going to grab a duster. None of that stuff upstairs has seen a rag in ages. Why don't you start organizing the books into piles?"

Jacob thought that I was afraid, so he kept telling me about interesting stories in the Stoneridge pack, along with embarrassing things he had done as a pup. He told me that his parents were extremely nice, and they would be elated to meet me. He even tried to take the heavy headdress off my head, fearing the weight might make my neck sore, but out of courtesy, I declined. Thanks to Jacob, who was deliberately trying to ease the atmosphere, my anxiety gradually disappeared. Then, we arrived at the Stoneridge pack's territory.

They stepped inside, holding up their torchlights, only to be met with a room filled with garbage. The stench was unbearable, thick and suffocating. Amidst the filth lay a worn-out, grimy mat—it had been my bed. The only possession I had was a tattered doll I'd brought from home. The doll stood out in the squalor. Its age was apparent; the fabric was faded and patched in several places. Yet, it was clear the doll had once been cherished, lovingly repaired by its owner.

I hastily wiped it from the corner of my eye and decided to throw away everything in the room. Since I was dying anyway, keeping these things would only be an eyesore to them. It was better to throw them all away. There was not much in the room besides daily necessities and a few picture frames. There was a family photo of all four of us and my marriage certificate with Jonathan. I stared at them for a long time, then threw them into the trash without hesitation. After cleaning up, I lay on the bed gasping for breath when suddenly, something metallic and sweet surged up my throat. I coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood that splattered across the white sheets.