Chapter 3

3.

I walked into my own dorm room. The smell of old wood hit me.

My three roommates were already there. A girl with fiery red curls greeted me warmly.

"Hey! You must be Harper, right? I'm Chloe, journalism major!"

She had a bright smile, like the damn sun outside, but not scorching. She keenly sensed my mood was off, glanced at my red palm, and took my suitcase without a word.

"God, this thing is heavy! Did you bring the entire law library with you?"

Before I could answer, my phone started vibrating wildly in my pocket.

The name "Dad" flashed on the screen.

I silenced it, letting it buzz in my palm until it stopped. Immediately, a furious text message popped up:

[You have one hour to get your ass over here and apologize to Lily! Otherwise, I'm cutting off your credit card, and you can forget about finishing this semester!]

Threats. It was always about financial control.

I stared at the message, then calmly, word by word, I blocked his number.

Then I took off the back of my phone and removed the SIM card.

With all my strength, I snapped it in half.

A soft click.

It sounded like some kind of shackle breaking.

I threw it into the trash can on my desk.

The world was finally quiet.

Chloe witnessed the whole thing, her eyes wide. Then she whistled.

"Damn, girl. You're kind of a badass."

I tried to smile, but my facial muscles felt incredibly stiff.

Night fell, and the noise in the dorm gradually subsided.

Chloe was a social butterfly and pulled me into a long chat, talking about everything from the terrible pizza in the school cafeteria to the weirdo professor in the journalism department who had supposedly won a Pulitzer.

I responded vaguely, trying to act like a normal college freshman.

Just then, the old landline phone on the dorm room wall rang abruptly.

Ring―ring―

The harsh sound cut through the quiet night. Chloe, being the closest, picked it up. "Hello, this is…"

The person on the other end said something, and Chloe paused, then handed the receiver to me, mouthing silently, "It's for you."

I took the phone. It smelled of cold plastic.

"Hello."

"Let me speak to Harper."

A cold, familiar female voice. It was my mother, Eleanor.

I took a deep breath. "This is she."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and then, as expected, the accusations came crashing down, her voice hoarse from years of alcohol.

"Harper, what was that scene you caused with your father at school today? Lily is so well-behaved, can't you learn from her? Do you have any idea how angry your father was? You've embarrassed us in front of all our friends!"

Not a single word of concern. She didn't ask if I had arrived safely, or if I'd had dinner.

The first thing out of her mouth was a defense of her husband and the "well-behaved" Lily.

In that moment, my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark pit.

But this time, I didn't stay silent or offer a numb apology.

I asked her a question, my voice as calm as still water.

"Mom, do you remember that dress?"

The line went silent. A long, deathly silence.

I didn't wait for her answer. I just kept talking.

"My twelfth birthday. You took me to that department store downtown and bought it for me. You said it was my birthday present."

My voice was steady, not a tremor. But the long-buried memories were flooding my mind.

That day was one of her rare, sober days. She hadn't been sitting on the sofa with a wine glass, staring into space. She had taken my hand.

"Harper, let's go out for a walk."

That was the first time she had gone out without the "poor" Lily.

We spent hours at the mall. She patiently watched me try on dress after dress. Finally, I chose that one. When I put it on, I saw myself in the mirror, and next to me, a mother with a sparkle in her eye.

That was the last time I remember her smiling at me so genuinely.

But that beautiful moment was as fragile as a soap bubble.

Richard’s angry face when we got home, and the cruel words that came out of his mouth, popped it instantly.

"Vain!"

"Inappropriate!"

"Get rid of it!"