This Time I’m Done Fighting

My eyes began to sting. My mind filled with memories of sunlight in the countryside and the smell of chopped onions.

I was lost at the age of five during a family shootout. It was my adoptive parents who saved me and took me in.

They gave me fifteen years of a normal life, pulling me out of hell and back into the world of the living.

But sadly, they passed away in a car accident at the beginning of this year. My brothers only found me because they saw me in a news report about the accident.

Only after I was brought back did I learn that my birth parents had died years ago in a mob hit, leaving behind a vast empire and two young heirs.

They'd adopted Vivi because her father, a loyal consigliere to my parents, had also died in a hail of bullets while protecting my father.

I carefully placed the photo album at the very bottom of my suitcase.

I took out my bank card. It held the insurance compensation my adoptive parents left me, plus the money I had saved from scholarships and part-time jobs over the past two years.

The amount wasn't large, but it was enough to rent a small studio in Switzerland, buy secondhand books, and live on cheap bread.

I had no intention of spending a single blood-soaked penny of the Rogers' money.

At dinner, the atmosphere in the dining room was unusually relaxed.

Exquisite Italian risotto was served, and for the first time, a place had been set for me near the head of the table.

Fred was excitedly talking about what kind of delicacies to prepare for the coming-of-age party.

Vivi played along, occasionally trying to draw me into their carefully orchestrated conversation.

"Helena, I heard the security situation in Zurich isn't great lately. Are you sure you want to go?" Vivi put down her fork, her brow slightly furrowed.

"Living all by yourself, without even a bodyguard, what if you run into trouble? Why don't you let our brothers arrange for a few men to watch over you?"

"No need."

"But the food there is so plain, mostly cold dishes. Your stomach…"

"I'll get used to it."

No matter what hidden barbs she threw, I responded with the shortest possible answers.

The smile on Fred's face finally faltered.

He put down his knife and sighed. "Helena, do you have to have this attitude with Vivi? She's just concerned about you."

I looked up at them and said nothing.

No matter how I explained it, it would end up being my fault anyway. I couldn't be bothered to waste my breath.

But either my silence or Vivi's hurt expression seemed to provoke Bryan. He let out a cold laugh, slamming his wine glass down on the table. The dark red liquid splashed onto the white tablecloth. "Have you no manners?"

In my past life, every time I showed the slightest dissatisfaction or grievance, it always ended with me being the one who was thoughtless, the one without manners.

I never thought that now, even my silence was a mistake.

Bryan spoke. "Helena, has being a Rogers been so awful? Are you that desperate to leave, to wash your hands of us?"

Yes, to wash away this blood.

That was exactly what I wanted to do.

But I still met my Don's gaze calmly. "Medicine is about saving people, Bryan."

"Didn't Grandma go to church every morning to pray for someone in the family to one day walk in the sunlight?"

I was simply too tired to argue with them. And bringing up our deceased grandmother was the only weapon I had to shut Bryan up.

Sure enough, Bryan was choked by my words, momentarily speechless.

Fred coughed awkwardly, once again playing the peacemaker. "Bryan... Helena has a point. Grandma did..."

"Besides, we haven't lived together for over a decade. Give her some time."

I was so tired of this scene repeating itself. I stood up, claiming I was full, and went to my room.

In the past, I would never have dared to be the first to leave the dinner table. I was terrified of my brothers thinking I lacked manners and breeding.

But now, I had found my path. I no longer cared what people I was leaving behind thought of me.

I locked my door. It felt like the first step in severing my connection to this world.

I opened my laptop and started searching for information on the medical school in Zurich, as well as local apartment rentals.

Since I was leaving, I had to disappear completely from their surveillance. I had no intention of living in a dorm.

After finishing my search, I crossed off another day on the calendar: 29 days to go.

But when you're planning an escape from hell, time always seems to crawl by.

At least I had survived another day.