Chapter 10

Their screams jolted me awake from a restless sleep. It was 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains, yet there was nothing peaceful about the start of this day.

The house was too quiet, but I could hear the distant sounds of my parents' voices cutting through the silence, loud, angry, like they were tearing each other apart.

"You never listen when I speak! You never care about what I need!" my father's voice thundered, the walls shaking with the weight of his words.

"I need a partner who stands by me, not someone who disregards my feelings, Mabel!" There was a raw edge to his voice, pain leaking through the cracks, as if this was the breaking point.

He wasn't just shouting-he was pleading. I knew this was the moment it all broke, when the years of frustration and unspoken hurt finally spilled over.

But my mother, as usual, was unyielding. Her voice sliced through his, cold and sharp.

"You want me to listen? Listen to what? To more broken promises? Look at where we are, Johnson! Look at how we live! Our children are sent home from school because we can't even pay their fees on time. They miss out on school trips, on opportunities because we're drowning in debt! I'm tired of this life, tired of you. And he..." Her voice faltered, but I could feel the weight of the words that followed.

"He makes me smile. He makes me feel wanted-something I haven't felt in years of this sham of a marriage."

That was it-the truth, finally laid bare. My mother was leaving. For him. Whoever he was, the man who had somehow taken her heart, replaced us in her life.

Her words hit me like a slap, and my heart splintered into pieces. I had known life wasn't easy for us, but this?

This was something else.

This betrayal wasn't just a fracture in our family-it was a chasm.

Their fighting continued, but I could no longer bear the noise. I hid behind the doorframe of the stairs, my legs too weak to carry me forward. I stood there, paralyzed, listening to my father's broken pleas.

"How can you be so selfish, Mabel? What about our children? Put aside how you feel about me-what about them? Amanda is only twelve, and Asher is five. They need their mother!" His voice cracked with desperation, but my mother's words came swiftly after, cutting through his like a blade.

"They'll be fine without me," she said, her tone steely. "Their mother needs peace of mind. Their mother needs happiness. How can I give them joy when I don't have any left for myself?"

I wanted to scream at her. To tell her that peace didn't come at the cost of a family. That happiness didn't justify abandoning your children.

But the words were trapped, suffocating in my chest. How could she just walk away? How could she choose him over us? I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, beg her to stay. But I was rooted to the spot, watching her pack her bags, her suitcase neatly arranged in the corner of the living room. She wasn't just leaving.

She was leaving us-leaving me, leaving Asher, as if we were nothing more than burdens she was tired of carrying.

"Please don't do this," my father whispered, his voice small, like the shell of the man I had once known. "Don't you love us?"

I held my breath, praying that she would give some indication that she still cared. That something-anything-could fix this. But her answer was a final blow.

"I love myself more," she said, her voice so cold, so devoid of any warmth. She didn't even look back. She grabbed her suitcase and handbag, and walked out of our lives without a second glance.

I couldn't breathe. The air around me thickened, choking me. The woman who had once been my mother, who had held me close, who had promised to always be there, was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, and it was like the house-the whole world-fell silent.

My father stood there, broken, his hands trembling as he clutched the empty space where she had just been.

That was the last time I saw her.

Years have passed since then, but the memory is seared into my mind, a scar that no amount of time can heal. Even now, I wonder if she thinks of us at all. Maybe she found happiness, maybe peace. But what about me? What about us?

Despite it all, we survived. My father and I. Asher too, though I feared the effects of the absence we felt, the hole she left behind. Then Erica came into our lives. Erica, with her easy smile and soft laughter, filling the house with warmth that had long since gone cold. She became the mother we needed, the light in the darkness. She was everything my real mother had failed to be.

But peace is a fragile thing. It never lasts, not really.

The morning had started like any other, quiet and lazy. The soft light of early morning filtered through the curtains as I stretched, still tangled in the warm blankets. But then, that scream. A cry that tore through the stillness like a thunderclap. My heart raced in an instant, and I jumped out of bed, my thoughts scrambling for what was happening.

I rushed down the stairs, my footsteps pounding against the floor, my heart slamming in my chest. My breath caught in my throat when I reached the living room, and what I saw froze me in place.

Asher was on the floor, convulsing violently. His body writhed in spasms as his eyes rolled back in his head. Erica was beside him, screaming his name, her hands gripping him desperately, her voice frantic with fear.

My legs turned to jelly, and for a moment, I was that helpless child again-the one who stood paralyzed behind a door, watching as everything in our world unraveled. My mind raced, but my body refused to act.

"Help! Somebody help!" Erica's voice cracked through my daze. I finally forced myself to move, reaching for my phone with trembling hands.

Call for help, Amanda.

Call now.

My fingers fumbled as I dialed, praying I wasn't too late. The ambulance. The hospital. Anything. I needed them. We needed them.

But what was wrong with Asher?

What had caused this?

Was it something I could fix? Was this another one of the consequences of the life we had been left with?

Or was this something worse?

The thought gnawed at me, but I couldn't stop it.

"Please, God," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Not him. Not my brother."