No Peace in Life or Death

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.