No Peace in Life or Death

The day before Chris Carter and I were supposed to get engaged, my parents sent me to prison.

Three years later, when I was finally released, Chris was the only one who came to pick me up.

I knew he despised me. I trembled, keeping my head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

But he blocked my path, frowning. “Emily York? You stink.”

He pinched his nose and told me to get in the car.

I fell to my knees, desperately begging him not to take me home. If he did, I would die.

He looked at me with chilling indifference and said, “Then go ahead and die.”

I agreed.

But later, he cried and begged me to stay alive.

The day I got out of prison, the sun was shining bright.

A guard gave me a pat on the back and said, “Take care of yourself, start over.”

The pat made me stumble a little, and I barely kept my balance. I picked up my bag and walked out.

As soon as I stepped outside, I saw a tall man leaning against a car, dressed casually. It was Chris Carter, who was handsome and well put-together.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a puddle on the ground. I was wearing an old, worn-out jacket from three years ago. I looked gaunt, my skin pale and sallow, a shadow of the vibrant person I used to be.

My heart clenched, and I tightened my grip on the bag. I lowered my head, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

But as I tried to sneak off, he finished his cigarette, crushed it under his foot, and walked over.

“Emily York?” His voice was deep, with a trace of impatience.

I instinctively took a step back. My whole body was trembling and I was feeling completely out of place.

“You stink!” He covered his nose, his face full of disgust.

I sniffed around, confused. I had showered before leaving, but after spending so much time near the toilet, the smell seemed impossible to wash off.

Seeing that I wasn’t responding, his patience wore thin. He grabbed me by the collar.

“I... can I...”

I started to speak softly, hoping to ask if I could just leave on my own. I could disappear, stay far out of his sight.

But he shoved me into the car before I could finish.

The smell bothered him so much that he rolled down both front windows all the way during the drive.

I huddled in the corner, the wind stinging my eyes. I watched the scenery pass by, everything looking both familiar and strange, a sense of confusion clouding my mind.

Three years had passed.

And now Chris was taking me back home.

But did I even have a home anymore?

......

When my parents opened the door and saw Chris, they greeted him with warm smiles, “Chris, you’re here! Come in! Lily’s been asking about you!”

Chris casually sidestepped my mom’s attempt to pull him inside and told them he was just dropping me off.

I watched their smiles fade right before my eyes.

My dad frowned, about to say something.

My mom glanced at Chris and quickly interrupted, “Oh, our Emily is back!”

She raised her voice, forcing out a couple of tears, but her eyes were ice-cold.

Once Chris had done his part, he brushed off their attempts to make him stay and left without a word.

As soon as he was gone, my dad shut the door and rubbed his temples. “Why’d you have to trouble Chris to bring you home?”

My mom wasn’t as restrained. She glared at me, making me stand still.

“Take off those clothes! Don’t bring bad luck into the house!” She crossed her arms and stood as far away from me as she could.

I clutched the hem of my shirt and, gritting my teeth, took off my jacket. The cold air hit me, making me shiver with both the chill and humiliation.

After I changed, she slapped me hard, knocking me to the floor. “You little brat! You hurt Lily back then, and now you have the nerve to come back?”

I opened my mouth, wanting to explain to the people who were supposed to care about me the most.

I didn’t hurt Lily.

She was the one who asked me to meet her.

I was the victim.

But the words got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t get them out.

She kept kicking me over and over. Finally, when she was too tired to continue, my dad, trying to play peacemaker, said, “Enough. She’s already back. Throwing her out now would just make us look bad.”

My mom snorted and muttered under her breath, “Why didn’t you just die out there…”

I curled up into a ball, not sure if the pain was from my body or my heart.

Tears kept streaming down my face.

When the guard told me someone was coming to pick me up this morning, I hoped it would be them.

Even though, in the last three years, they had only answered my calls twice and never visited, I still held on to a sliver of hope.

After all, I had called them Mom and Dad for over twenty years.

But now I realized they would have preferred if I had just died out there.

For a moment, all I could think about was just dying.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, snapping myself out of it.