I'll Be Good for You

Back in my room, I sat on the bed and cried quietly, my eyes fixed on the family photo sitting on the dresser. That was the happiest time of my life.

Back then, the four of us were still packed into that little, worn-down house before Mom and Dad turned the business into something bigger.

Dad used to pick Miley and me up from school every day, sneaking hot dogs for us. Mom, on the other hand, always made us eat those awful vegetables, insisting they were good for our health.

Back then, Miley laughed all the time. She was everyone's little ray of sunshine. However, after Mom and Dad died, I never saw her smile again.

I didn't even remember how I ended up falling asleep that night. My pillow was soaked when I woke up.

…

At exactly 5:00 am the next day, I got up, washed, and sat at the dining table.

Those were the rules at the residential treatment center. They drilled so deep into me that it felt like breaking them would trigger a punishment I could never wake up from.

Even though I'd left the center, I didn't dare step out of line. The fear lived in me, down to the bone.

…

Two hours later, Miley came downstairs dressed in sharp business attire. Her brows drew together the moment she saw me sitting stiffly at the dining table.

Betty told her I'd been there since early this morning. A flicker of realization crossed Miley's face.

She walked over, tapped her fingers on the table, and said in a calm, deliberate voice, "Don't think this little performance is going to make me forgive you, Delia. Once you've had breakfast, the driver's taking you back to the center."

The blood drained from my face. My voice came out shaky. "W-What center?"

Miley sneered. "The residential treatment center, of course. You need to be fixed. The way you acted last night was disgraceful."

Her words triggered a flood of nightmare memories. Dread twisted hard in my chest.

I sprang to my feet, screaming, "No! I'm not going! Miley, if you send me back there, I'll die! I mean it! Mom and Dad are already gone. Do you want to kill me, too? They'd never forgive you for this!"

Miley's slap landed hard across my cheek with a sharp crack.

The sting jolted me back to my senses, and only then did I realize what I'd said. I dropped to my knees and clutched her hand. "I'm sorry, Miley. I didn't mean it. I was wrong. Please, don't send me back."

As expected, her face turned stony. Every trace of warmth was replaced by sheer disgust and icy indifference.

Miley's voice rang out from above, sharp with anger and heavy with disappointment.

"You've got two choices, Delia. Either go back to the center and get your act together, or walk out of this house for good. But if you go, don't bother calling yourself my sister anymore."

I wrestled with it for a long moment before finally pushing myself to my feet. I looked her straight in the eye. "Goodbye, Miley. Take care of yourself."

She didn't say a thing. That look on her face told me she'd known all along which way I'd go.

I went upstairs to my room to pack. I opened the wardrobe and tossed a few seasonal pieces into my suitcase without giving it much thought.

Most of them didn't even fit anymore. I'd lost so much weight after a year at the center, with barely enough food, no real warmth, and constant mental and physical torment.

I was just about to take my first step down the stairs with my suitcase when Miley's voice rang out. "Clear out her room, Betty. She's not part of the Jenkinsons anymore."

My foot hovered midair as a sudden jolt of pain pierced my chest like a thousand tiny needles pressing in all at once.

I walked over to Miley, trying to steady my voice, but it still caught in my throat. "I'm really leaving, Miley."

She went on eating her breakfast, ignoring me completely. However, just as I reached the doorway, one step away from leaving, her voice broke the silence behind me.

When I turned to her with hopeful eyes, all I got was that cold, unreadable look.

"Delia, I transferred some money to your account. Don't ever show up around me again."

That was it. Miley was cutting me off.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill, and dragged my suitcase out the door.

I walked painfully slowly, giving her every chance to stop me. If she'd called my name, I would've turned in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me.

I spun around in an instant. "Miley?"