A Call From the Past

Young Edmund kept going. "And why are Mom and Dad treating you like that? You're their son.

"And what's wrong with Charlotte? She's got you cleaning like hired help. Who does she think she is?

"Say something, Edmund. Where's your backbone? They took your parents and Charlotte, and you're still taking it. Are you just gonna swallow your pride for a few thousand bucks?"

I kept wiping the table and let him finish.

"I need the money."

"How much do you need? I've been wanting to say this. What are you doing at that stupid factory? You're a grown man. You can work anywhere. Why stay there?"

I stopped, pulled off my mask, and took a photo before sending it.

In the photo, I stood expressionless beneath a baseball cap. The brim did little to hide the scars. They cut across my face in raised ridges, running from my forehead down my neck before disappearing beneath my collar.

"Because I don't have a choice."

He went quiet.

By the time I made it upstairs, I heard him trying to hold it in.

"Does it hurt?"

"It used to. Not anymore."

He was fighting it, but his voice still shook. "What happened in those eight years?"

Eight years. It went by faster than it should have.

Right before the SAT, I believed Charlotte and skipped school for a month.

The morning of the test, she called. She said Gideon had forgotten his admission ticket and needed me to bring it.

She said, "It doesn't matter if you take the test. He can't miss it."

So I went.

On my way there, a car came the wrong way and hit me, sending me several yards down the road.

I didn't die, but I missed the SAT and spent two months in the hospital.

The day I got out, I heard Charlotte and Gideon were heading to Wexford University, the best school in the country.

I went straight to the Collins' house to confront Charlotte.

"You said you'd send me abroad."

She looked at me like I was a nuisance. "I said that offhand. You took it seriously?"

Gideon stood next to her, trying not to laugh, like I was a joke to him.

I grabbed his wrist.

I wasn't trying to hurt him. I remembered what he was like when he first came to the city. I couldn't bring myself to do anything to him.

He screamed anyway and jerked back.

Charlotte rushed in and shoved me hard, sending me straight into a full-length mirror. It shattered, and I went face-first into the glass.

Blood ran down my face as my palms and bare calves split open almost instantly.

That was the day my life fell apart.

Dad couldn't accept what I had become, and Mom lost it and threw me out.

To keep them calm, Charlotte suggested they take Gideon in instead.

Just like that, I lost my home and my family.

I dropped out of high school. With my scarred face, no one would hire me. The factory was the only place that would take me.

I worked and saved for surgery. I studied when I could, hoping to retake the SAT.

But Mom kept my ID. She told me that Gideon had warned her, saying I wasn't stable, that I might use it for something stupid.

When Charlotte found out I needed money, she started calling me in to clean whenever she felt like it.

At first, I pushed back. I said whatever I could to hurt her.

But I needed the money.

The surgery alone cost 100 thousand. At the factory, I was stuck at the lowest pay.

The 1,000 she tossed me was half a month's wages.

Over time, I went numb. I stopped arguing and barely spoke.

I had no friends, no family, and no real chance at taking the SAT again.

Eight years stretched on like a bottomless pit. After a while, I didn't even have the strength to hate anymore.

Young Edmund broke down.

"What are you crying for?" I asked. "I told you, I don't feel anything anymore."

"I'm crying for you," he said between sobs.

I didn't answer. I crouched down and kept scrubbing the floor.

He sniffed and steadied himself. "I'm going to study. I mean it."

"Okay."

From that day on, every time I called him, he was buried in practice sets.

He didn't stop, no matter the hour.

The morning of the SAT, I got off my shift and saw a message from him.