Too Late for Redemption

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"Sorry, I… I'll clean it up. I'll take a seat in the car behind us. Sorry I, uh, sorry I dirtied the place."

Lawrence stopped moving again and looked at me suspiciously. A tense moment later, he extended his hand and tried to check my temperature.

The sight of his encroaching hand made me freeze. I knew I shouldn't move away, or it would make him mad. I used to worry about making him mad. Every time he got angry, he would mock me relentlessly like I was the most worthless thing in the world.

It was embarrassing and heartbreaking for me. I remained stiffly in my seat, but I told myself not to move away.

However, the moment his fingers touched me, I had that feeling of a slimy serpent coiling itself around my body again, and I dodged his touch.

Lawrence's hand froze in midair. He was looking at me, and I could sense his impatience and frustration. My head was starting to spin again.

I shook my head, but he was gone. In his place was my grandfather, bedridden and hooked up to all kinds of machines.

The hospital stopped my grandfather's treatment because I failed to get a loan and pay the bills. I was kneeling beside my grandfather, crying in an ugly manner.

It took my grandfather everything he had just to say something, but he forced a smile and asked, "How are they treating you, sweetheart?"

I covered my face and sobbed my heart out. Even though my parents cared about Yvette more than they did about me, even though Yvette was hostile toward me for some reason, even though Lawrence despised me, and even though no one liked me at all, through my sobs, I replied, "They've been treating me great."

My grandfather extended his hand, trying to pat me. "You found your family, sweetheart. A loving one."

Before I could get closer to him, he closed his eyes. Forever.

I blinked, and a drop of tear fell.

Lawrence wanted to scold me, but he swallowed his words and looked at me. In the end, he said nothing and coolly told the driver to drive away.

I wiped my tears with my sleeve and curled up in the corner, trying my best to stay inconspicuous. Everything around me was blurry. I hugged my legs, thinking, 'If only Lawrence had helped me, Grandpa could've been saved. I could've never taken out that loan. This mess could've never happened.'

Yeah, if only.

The car came to a stop, but the inertia pushed me ahead, and I bumped my head against the back of the front seat. My wound—now with scabs—threatened to rip open again.

Lawrence took a glance at me. "What's with your forehead?"

I covered my forehead and said nothing. All I did was shake my head.

He didn't press further. Lawrence got out of the car and left me to my devices as he strode into the Marlins' estate.

I got into the house and wanted to get upstairs and jump into the shower. When I was undressing myself, I took off the tattered glove, revealing my left hand. There were no wounds, but my pinky was bent at an unnatural angle.

I did it to myself. I broke it, and my tormentors laughed in glee before they would give me some scraps.

This was also a reminder of my experience. This was something I would carry with me all my life to remind me I must stay vigilant. Always.

I took a shower, changed into clean clothes, put on my glove, and went back downstairs.

It was time for dinner. My mother couldn't believe I was back. She waved at me and grumbled, "Where have you been? You couldn't even call us?"

I thought this was a little unfair to me. Just when I was about to talk to my mother, someone interrupted us.

"How do I look, Mom?" Yvette came fluttering down like some kind of fairy. She was in a dress I'd never seen before.