Chapter 2

2 We arrived at the Ethan family mansion. I was led to a guest room. Passing my old room, I glimpsed inside. It was unrecognizable. My desk by the window was now a vanity. My beloved lily-of-the-valley was gone, replaced by roses, my least favorite flower. Even the décor was different. It screamed that the room had a new occupant. No, it never belonged to me in the first place. I'd forgotten. I was just a stray taken in by the Ethans. I should be grateful for any shelter. Ethan noticed my glance, mistaking it for resentment. He frowned. “The room was empty after you left. Chloe’s staying there for now.” I nodded. “Let Chloe have it. I don’t mind where I stay.” I kept my head down. My old room was across from Ethan’s. I didn’t want to see him every time I left my room. In the guest room, a maid brought in an array of dresses. I used to enjoy pretty clothes, but now, the sight of them made my skin crawl. In rehab, we were forced to wear such dresses, but with insects crawling inside. They would crawl over us, the sensation both painful and itchy. It was a lesson: girls shouldn’t dress provocatively to tempt men. Only then would we be “cured.” I begged for a long-sleeved, high-necked black dress. Only in clothes like that did I feel safe. Opening the door, I saw Ethan leaning against the railing, his expression unreadable. Seeing my outfit, he scowled. “Wearing black? Are you here for a funeral? Are you trying to embarrass the family?” He reached out. I flinched, stepping back. “Don’t hit me!” I was so terrified I almost tumbled down the stairs. Ethan caught me, his eyes filled with bewilderment and exasperation. “When did I say I was going to hit you?” He had only meant to fix my hair. I followed Ethan to the party. Chloe, on Ethan's mother's arm, looked every bit the lady of the house. My appearance drew stares. The scandal had been too public. Seeing my attire, their gazes turned scornful and mocking. Ethan's mother, however, rushed towards me, her eyes welling up. "Amelia! You're back! You left for school without a word. I was so worried!" Ethan shot me a warning look. So that was why my usually loving adopted mother had been silent. Chloe chimed in, “Aunt Margaret, you’ve been so worried your hair’s gone gray.” Dressed in a simple, elegant dress, Chloe was radiant. Beside her, I felt like a dull, ugly duckling. With a single sentence, she painted me as a selfish, ungrateful daughter who’d abandoned her family. Ethan's mother held my arm, lamenting her worry. Chloe, like a devoted daughter, comforted her. I couldn’t shed a single tear. I’d cried them all already. Ethan cut in, his voice cold. "Enough. Let's eat." Ethan's mother wiped her tears, pulling me to sit beside her, piling food on my plate. But the sight of the delicacies made my stomach churn. I felt like throwing up. Still, I forced myself to eat, like a robot, shoving the food down. I instinctively reached for the food with my hands, only to be stopped by Ethan. In rehab, we were given only leftovers, mixed together like slop and served in a single dish. We had to eat with our hands. If we didn’t eat everything, the dish would be overturned, and we’d be forced to lick it clean off the floor. I couldn’t tell if I was eating food or dirt. Now, looking at the food in front of me, all I could picture was it scattered on the floor. Whether to show familial affection or for some other reason, Ethan unexpectedly put some food on my plate. Fighting nausea, I forced it down. But the revulsion overwhelmed me. I vomited in front of everyone. I felt as disgusting as the mess on the floor. Everyone stared, stunned. Panic seized me. I knelt, crawling to Ethan, begging, "I’m sorry! I’m wrong! Please don’t send me back!" Ethan’s face was grim. He had someone take me away to clean up.