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.

I kept reminding myself that I could not give up yet. As long as I was alive, there was still hope.

I forced myself to stand up and saw Lily standing right in front of me. She was wearing a white chiffon dress, her head tilted as she looked at me. “Well, well, Emily, you’re out of prison?”

Lily looked sweet and innocent. If it weren’t for the scar on her face, she would look like a perfect, delicate flower. Her eyes were dark, but whenever she looked at me, they were filled with hatred.

Lily asked my parents why they had not kicked me out.

My mom gently patted her on the head. “Chris brought her back. If we throw her out now, it could cause trouble.

“Just be patient, sweetie, okay?” Then she glanced at the bag at my feet and nodded toward it. “From now on, you’ll stay in there. Try to keep out of sight as much as possible.”

She was talking about the storage room under the stairs. It used to be where the housekeeper stored all the unwanted junk.

As soon as I opened the door, a cloud of dust hit me, making me cough. There wasn’t even a proper place to sleep. I could only lean against the door and slowly slide down to the floor, burying my head in my knees.

My stomach growled, and my body ached all over. But after spending so much time in prison, I had learned to endure any kind of miserable conditions.

Exhaustion finally took over, and I curled up on the floor and fell asleep, just like that.

......

The next morning, I woke up to pitch darkness.

The light switch for this tiny storage room was outside. I could hear Lily’s voice, but I did not dare to knock on the door. If she remembered I was here, she would throw a fit.

After a while, I heard my parents’ voices.

“Lily, don’t worry about packing too much. We’ll buy what you need when we get there,” my mom said gently.

“Hurry up, the driver’s already outside. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our flight,” my dad said as he pushed a suitcase, its wheels rumbling across the floor.

That was when I realized they were going on a trip.

I started pounding on the wooden door and shouted, “Dad! Mom! Open the door!”

The lock was on the outside. If they left, they would not be back for at least a week. I could die in here, and no one would even know.

But all I heard was the front door closing.

No one answered me.

The darkness magnified my fear. It felt like I was drowning in it.

I screamed desperately, “Dad! Mom!” I even called out Lily’s name.

But no matter how much I screamed, my voice eventually gave out. No one came to help me.

I thought about giving up.

My life was already ruined, and everyone hated me.

So what was the point of staying alive?

I hugged my tattered bag to my chest, the notebook inside pressing painfully against me. I traced the words on the cover.

Those were the words I had written when I felt like I could not go on in prison. A cellmate had told me to write them down. “Stay alive! Emily York wants to stay alive!”

I did not know if I really wanted to live, but I forced myself to stand up anyway.

At the very least, I did not want to die in this dark, filthy corner and end up rotting away.

I fumbled around in the faint light coming through the crack in the door until I found a hammer. I aimed at the general area of the lock and started pounding on it.

One hit, then another.

Luckily, the lock was not very sturdy.

When the door finally swung open, the outside light was so bright it stung my eyes.

I blinked and looked around. As I reached down to grab my bag, I noticed a broken doll in the corner.

It was a pink stuffed toy, its once-round body now covered in dirt and grime.

Just like me.

A sharp pain shot through my heart.

With trembling hands, I picked up the doll and carefully tucked it into my bag.

……

I closed the door behind me and whispered a silent goodbye.

This house had been theirs since I was ten. It was a three-story building where I had lived for fourteen years.

The yard used to be filled with the roses I had planted, and there was a swing my dad had put up just for me.

My bedroom was on the second floor. It was not fancy, but it was full of memories.

Now, the yard was overgrown with jasmine, and there was not a single trace of my roses.

The tree had been cut down, leaving only a stump.

Everything was gone.

Suddenly, this place felt completely foreign.

As I turned to leave, I did not feel a bit of attachment.

The house was in a suburban neighborhood, and I walked for what felt like forever.

Along the way, I passed by Chris Carter’s house.

We had gone to middle school together.

The first time I saw him, I was just a young girl with a crush, secretly whispering to my best friend that I liked him.

My best friend, Rola Collins, rolled her eyes and said, “What do you even like about him? That constant scowl, like the world owes him a million bucks? Or the fact that he’s so uptight he practically buttons his uniform up to his chin?”

Back then, I thought everything about him was perfect.

“That’s not a scowl. It’s called being cool!

“And he’s not uptight, he’s just reserved. Do you even know what that means?” I laughed as I turned her head toward Chris.

He happened to glance over at us, and my face instantly turned red.

Later, I found out he lived not far from me, so I started looking for excuses to catch rides with his family.

The first time I asked, he agreed without much thought.

The second time, he frowned and asked, “Doesn’t your family send a driver to pick you up, Emily?”

I bit my lip, not wanting to admit that my parents only sent the driver for Lily. Nobody bothered to come for me.

Chris noticed how uncomfortable I was and didn’t say anything more. But after a month of me hitching rides, he started rushing out of school as soon as the bell rang, trying to get to the car before I could catch up.

But back then, I was fit, determined, and crazy enough to chase after him like my life depended on it.

“Chris, wait up!” I would sprint and practically tackle him as he was getting into the car, then jump in and tell the driver to go.

He was still pretty nice to me back then. He would give me dolls for my birthday.

But over time, he grew more and more annoyed. “Emily, why are you so clingy?”

When he found out about Lily, he confronted me, demanding to know why the two York sisters were so different.

I was impulsive and stubborn, with a gloomy personality, while my sister, Lily, was smart, sweet, and innocent.

I didn’t understand why he cared so much, so I stubbornly tried even harder to win his heart in my own misguided ways.

I would throw away love letters other girls left for him in his desk and replace them with chocolates I made myself.

When he wasn’t happy with a test score, I would sneak into the office and change his 91 to a 99.

When a teacher warned him about dating in high school, I would step in and declare, “He’s not dating anyone! I’m just pursuing him all on my own!”

The whole class burst into laughter.

His face turned bright red, and as soon as we left the classroom, he shoved me aside. “Emily, you’re such a pain! Leave me alone!”

I was so naive back then.

I used to believe that if a girl was persistent enough, she could win over any guy. I thought that if I kept trying, he would eventually be mine.

When I met his mom in college, she said, “Chris always talks about a girl named Emily. So it’s you! You really are as pretty as he described.”

That boosted my confidence.

Two years after graduation, on my 24th birthday, he agreed to my proposal with a blank expression.

I was so excited I could not sleep. I hugged the doll he had given me and rolled around on my bed, overwhelmed with joy.

It took me a long time to realize he had not said yes because he loved me. It was because his mom thought I came from a good family and that, since I was so devoted to him, I would take good care of him.

He figured, since he had to get married someday, why not me?

But at the same time, he resented me for not being as gentle and understanding as Lily.

Then, the night before our engagement party, I got a message to meet at the park in Central Square.

Lily was there, watching as some thug pinned me to the ground, laughing like she was watching the best show ever.

It wasn’t until I jabbed the guy in the eye with a stick and shoved Lily to the ground that I managed to escape, covered in blood, and ran home.

Before I could catch my breath, my mom came at me, screaming, “Emily! What have we ever done to you? How could you hurt Lily like that? If you ruin her life, I’ll never forgive you!”

I did not understand why she had suddenly turned on me. Lily was her daughter, but wasn’t I too?

But they would not listen to a word I said. They dragged me to the police station and accused me of assault.

Later, I found out that Lily had cut her face when she fell, and the thug had lost his right eye.

It did not take long for my sentence to be decided. Since Lily and the thug agreed to a settlement, I was given a three-year prison term.