Chapter 3

3 Two weeks later, I was back at the Van Derlyn mansion.

Mom felt guilty, heaping food on my plate.

But the smell of fish made my stomach churn.

My hand flinched away, sending the fish to the floor.

Dad slammed his silverware down, the sound echoing in the silent dining room.

"After a scare like that, you're still being picky? You couldn't be more different than Brittany. I wanted to yell at you for being so immature when you were in the hospital."

I stared at him, shocked.

For the last two weeks, they had been in the hospital.

But I didn't want to see them.

Especially not when Brittany was there, all smiles, trying to cheer them up and telling me to get better soon so they wouldn't worry.

So, I pretended to be asleep.

Seeing I didn't speak, Carol nudged Dad.

"Why are you yelling? Ashley still can't remember anything!"

"Once she remembers, she won't be picky like she used to."

Carol turned to me, looking guilty. "Darling, it's okay if you don't like fish. I'll get you some chicken soup."

"No thanks, I'm full."

I stood, limping toward my room.

Dad's voice rose again. "You don't leave the table until the adults are finished! Don't think because you're hurt, you can do whatever you want."

I touched the fading bruises on my arm and turned to look at him.

Thanks a lot.

I'd rather die out there than come back to this.

That night, I found the diaries under my bed. How I found them is beyond me, but it felt like a sixth sense.

The diaries were just pages and pages of how awful my life had been before my kidnapping.

My dad was demanding and wanted things done his way.

He and Brittany's dad had been buddies in the army.

When Brittany's dad died saving another soldier, he took Brittany in as his own.

At first, I liked having another girl in the family.

But ever since she came, Brittany seemed to steal the love from Mom and Dad.

To my parents, she was the hero's daughter, which meant she could do no wrong.

I'd get angry whenever I fell into her traps, and we'd almost come to blows.

With those incidents happening, she started telling my parents that I was a picky eater, never paid attention in class, and even flirted with the boys.

I argued at first.

But my dad was strange and always took the word of others over his own daughter.

My mom was passive and was always going to parties with the ladies or bringing people to Brittany's shows.

She forgot that I had talents too.