They want to pretend I wasn’t humiliated for years in hallways and locker rooms. Pretend I wasn’t stripped down to nothing while Cavin McCarthy laughed.
They want to pretend I have a choice. Pretend I’m the selfish one here.
No. I won’t let them twist me into that.
“And what doesCavinget out of this?” I ask.
“Were you not paying attention?” my mother snaps. She turns to me. I feel the distance between us and how different we are. Her makeup’s flawless. Her hair sculpted, unmoved by the storm she’s throwing me into, not a wrinkle on her clothes.
I’m a mess.
“The McCarthys get access to our trade routes.”
“Why?” I press.
“Don’t be stupid, Erin,” she spits. “For someone so smart, you really don’t see the forest for the trees.”
“Tara,” my father warns, chiding like a man who’s already surrendered.
My mother’s nostrils flare. “You both know what’s at stake, and you know what we hope to gain from the McCarthys. We forfeit our trade routes, but we could save Bridget.”
They forfeit trade routes, and… me. My mother folds her hands in her lap, prim and polished, as if she hasn’t just sold me like another shipment in the trade route.
The car is too quiet after that. The tires hum over smooth pavement, as if the world dares to pretend my life hasn’t just been detonated.
My father stares straight ahead, his jaw clamped, the silent executioner.
“I’m sorry,” my mother whispers finally. The words are so thin they barely exist.
I blink because I’ve never heard her say them. Not once.
“It had to be done, Erin. Ithadto.”
My father shifts, muttering something about timing, family needs, but I cut himoff.
“You didn’t even ask me. You didn’t ask if I wanted to marry him.” My voice breaks. “You just… gave me away.”
“You said you’d do this for your sister,” my mother fires back. You said you’d do anything, in the hospital, the day she collapsed.”
She trembles now, and it breaks me in ways I hate.
I don’twantto forgive her. I don’t want to feel her pain. I want to hate her. I want to hate someone for the way my ribs feel like they’re being crushed from the inside.
“I know you’ll do this for your sister,” my mother repeats, softer this time.
“Of course I will,” I whisper.
Tears burn down my face. My hands shake.
And the car hums on, relentless.
From the front seat, my father finally speaks. “You’ll do this for her because it’s the only way she lives.” He doesn’t meet my eyes in the rearview mirror.
I nod once. My throat is raw.
Iknow.
And that’s when it settles. The final truth. This isn’t a request. It’s a sentence. The decisions have already been made.
