I was painting by the lake with my son when I ran into my parents for the first time in eight years.
My son, flying a kite, bumped right into my father.
When my father saw Leo’s face, the ceramic piece fell from his hand.
This child…he looks just like Skylar did.
I dropped my brush, stepped between them, and turned to leave.
Skylar Wallace!” My mother was in front of me, blocking the path. ” Eight years without a word.”
“Do you know how many cities we’ve searched for you in? Your brother got into a car accident looking for you. He still has a limp!”
“Why are you still so selfish and stubborn? You’re nothing like Chloe.”
I calmly looked them over.
“You’ve got the wrong person. My name is Rain.”
The home they spoke of had died in my heart eight years ago.
“Skylar! Is that any way to look at your own parents?”
Seeing my expressionless face, Father grew even angrier. “We were too soft! Should’ve let you rot in prison!”
My five-year-old son thrust himself forward, arms spread.
“Don’t you dare yell at my mom! You’re bad!”
Father’s face turned purple with rage, his finger practically poking my face.
“Is this your son?! No wonder you’re hiding! Who’s the father? Some backwater nobody?”
He raised his hand and slapped me hard.
Seeing me get hit, Leo cried and rushed forward, his tiny fists pounding against Mr. Wallace’s leg.
“Bad man! I’ll tell Daddy to stab you with his carving knife!”
Ignoring the stinging pain on my face, I quickly scooped Leo back into my arms.
“Leo, let’s go home.”
My mother ran up, grabbing my sleeve.
“Skylar, stop this nonsense! Your dad is just upset! He was diagnosed with liver cancer last year; the doctors say three years at most… Can’t you show him some understanding? Please, come home with us!”
I shook off her hand, my voice as cold as ice.
“I told you, my name is Rain. If you harass me again, I’m calling the cops.”
With that, I carried Leo and walked towards my husband’s studio.
Back in the studio, I collapsed onto the sofa, trembling all over.
Leo, still sobbing, pulled my husband, Alex, out.
“Daddy! He hit Mommy! Look!”
Alex, still holding a sculpting tool covered in clay, rushed to me in a few strides.
He cupped my face, his fingertips gently tracing the red, swollen area.
“Who did this? Tell me.”
I gripped his wrist, shaking my head. “I ran into two people I wish I hadn’t.”
Alex didn’t press further, just pulled me into his embrace, stroking my back gently.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one will hurt you again.”
Leo stood on his tiptoes, his little hands stained with paint touching my cheek, mimicking how I’d comfort him.
“Mommy, no boo-boos. I will kiss it better.”
Alex also lowered his head, his forehead resting against mine.
“Rain, honey, I’m here.”
My vision suddenly blurred.
A long time ago, I was cherished like this too.
I was afraid of thunderstorms, so Mom and Dad covered my room ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars.
Dad said each star was an eye watching over me.
I was afraid to sleep alone, so they set up a small cot by my bed and took turns sleeping next to me.
“Skylar, honey, Mommy and Daddy will always be with you.”
All of that crumbled when I was six, after my father brought home the orphaned daughter of his army buddy.
“Skylar, this is Chloe. From now on, she’s your sister.”
I was so happy. I brought out all my most treasured picture books for her, and gave her the limited-edition music box Mom had brought back from Paris.
Finally, I carefully took out the ceramic vase from the display cabinet.
“Chloe, look, this is the first piece Mom and I ever made together. It’s one of a kind!”
Chloe took the vase, stared at it for three seconds, then suddenly let go… The porcelain vase crashed to the floor, shards flying everywhere.
“What are you doing?!” I shrieked, pushing her away.
Chloe fell back among the shards, her palm pressing onto a piece, and blood instantly welled up.
Her cries drew my parents. Father rushed in and scooped her up, while Mother hurried to find the first-aid kit.
“Skylar pushed me… She said a stray like me doesn’t deserve to touch her things…” Chloe sobbed, gasping for breath.
My father’s eyes were bloodshot. He held her tight. “Chloe, don’t cry. From now on, I’m your dad.”
He turned and roared at me, “Skylar! Apologize to Chloe right now!”
I pointed at the scattered shards, tears streaming down my face. “She broke my vase first!”
“Is a stupid vase more important than your sister’s hand? How could you be so cruel?!” my father roared.
“Mom and I worked on that for three whole days…'” I choked, unable to finish.
“Skylar, we’ve spoiled you too much!” Mother sighed, shaking her head. “No dinner for you tonight. Go to your room and think about what you’ve done.”
That night, they took Chloe to the restaurant I’d always wanted to go to. When they returned, they brought me a slice of Black Forest cake.
Mother said Chloe had lost her parents, so I needed to be understanding and let her have her way more often.
I ate the cake, nodding in naive agreement.
But that ‘giving in’ ended up costing me my entire life.
Whenever Chloe wanted something, Mother would say, “Skylar, let Chloe have it.”
My art supplies, my study room, even my dreams.
When I was twelve, Chloe stole my pottery piece, the one Id worked on for a year. She submitted it to the National Youth Art Competition. She took home the Grand Prize.
I stopped Mother in the hallway. “Why?”
“Haven’t you won enough awards? Just let Chloe have this one.”
“That was a year’s worth of work for me!” I nearly screamed.
“Enough!” Father emerged from his study, his face dark.
“It’s just one pottery piece! If it took you a year, it means you have no talent. Don’t touch clay again!”
That night, I had an acute gastritis attack, curled up on the floor in pain.
They were out with Chloe, attending the awards gala, being interviewed by the media.
The next day, Grandma Rose, who had rushed from a neighboring town, found me and took me to the hospital.
The doctor said that if we’d been half an hour later, a stomach perforation would have been serious.
Grandma Rose flew into a rage on the spot. Ignoring my parents’ objections, she insisted on taking me away.
They tried to pick me up later, but every time they were about to leave, Chloe would either have an asthma attack or threaten to hurt herself.
Gradually, they stopped coming to see me, and I stopped asking.
My time with Grandma Rose was the most peaceful period of my life.
She didn’t call me Skylar; she called me Rain.
She said I was her proudest grandchild, the smartest kid in the world.
But Grandma Rose was getting old, and I had to return to that house my sophomore year of high school.
Before my senior year started, Grandma Rose’s heart condition flared up. She insisted my parents take me home, saying she couldn’t let my studies be interrupted.
I held a bottle of Grandma Rose’s homemade wine, pushing open the door with anticipation.
Grandma Rose had once said that my father loved her homemade wine most when he was young.
But when I got home, the nanny told me my parents had taken Chloe to Switzerland for skiing.
A week later, they finally returned.
“Skylar, I missed you so much!” Mother hugged me.
Father also patted my shoulder. “Kiddo, you’ve grown taller.”
I was about to turn and get the wine when Chloe suddenly shrieked and tumbled down the stairs.
They immediately released me and rushed over.
“I wanted to help Skylar with her luggage… I slipped…” Chloe’s face was as white as a sheet, clutching her ankle.
“I’m so useless…”
Mother examined her foot. “Silly girl, your ballet recital is next week. What if you’ve injured your foot?”
“Let’s go get X-rays at the hospital right now.” Father already had the car keys.
Before leaving, Mother glanced at the wine bottle in my hand. “Stay away from that stuff. You’re a senior, you need to focus on your studies.”
I sat on the stairs, uncorked the bottle, and drank it all, sip by sip.
That night, I suggested moving out, into the school dorms.
My parents initially disagreed, but eventually nodded after Chloe’s persuasive argument that “Skylar needs a quiet environment to study for her exams.”
The day I received my acceptance letter to the Art Academy, I rushed home to pack.
Grandma Rose had always said her favorite was Italian Renaissance painting.
So I applied to a university in Italy; I wanted to take Grandma Rose with me.
Just as I was dragging my suitcase out, my phone rang.
It was the nursing home calling.
“Is this Skylar? Your Grandma Rose… had a sudden heart attack. She’s being resuscitated. Please come quickly…”
The phone slipped from my grasp.
Trembling, I opened the door. My parents stood outside, their faces grim.
“Mom… Grandma Rose, she…” I gripped Mother’s arm, my voice shaking. “Take me to the nursing home… I need to see Grandma Rose… please…”
“Skylar, Grandma Rose will be fine,” Mother said, hugging me and patting my back gently. “But before you go, can you do us a favor?”
“What favor?” I asked, looking up through tears.
“Save Chloe.” Mother looked past me.
Chloe emerged from behind Father, covered in blood, trembling all over.
My mind went numb, and a chill spread through me.
“What happened to her?”
“Chloe… she got into a fight with someone in the art studio tonight. She accidentally… pushed someone down the stairs.”
Mother’s voice trembled. “That person is still in critical condition, and Chloe was scared, so she ran back here.”
I understood instantly, but still asked, “How do you want me to help?”
Father gripped my shoulders. “Skylar, you need to take the fall. Chloe is only seventeen; her life can’t be ruined like this! She’s already an orphan; she can’t go to prison too!”
I shoved him away, screaming with all my might, “What about me?! My life can just be ruined?! I’m only eighteen!”
“How could you be so selfish?” Mother looked at me, incredulous. “You’re our daughter! Even if you go to prison, we can support you for the rest of your life! But what about Chloe? She has nothing!”
I looked at her and suddenly laughed, tears streaming down my face.
“I can’t help you with this. If you won’t take me to Grandma Rose, I’ll go myself!”
I dragged my suitcase and rushed for the door.
“Stop!”
Father’s sharp command. Two bodyguards emerged from the shadows and pinned me down.
“If you don’t agree today, you’re not walking out this door!”
I looked at them, then at Mother.
“Mom, Grandma Rose is being resuscitated, and you don’t care?”
“Skylar, your Grandma Rose has doctors treating her, but if you don’t help Chloe now, her life will be over!” Mother cried.
“Chloe said if she goes to jail, she’ll kill herself! Skylar, please, just take pity on us, save her life!”
As she spoke, she pulled my ID card from my pocket, handed it to the lawyer standing nearby, and then dialed 911 right in front of me.
“Hello, I’d like to report a crime. This afternoon’s fall from the Art Academy building? My daughter, Skylar, did it.”
The call ended. I looked at them, my tears all dried up.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, you truly are saints.” I said calmly. “Fine, I’ll confess. But you must take me to the nursing home now. I need to see Grandma Rose one last time.”
When I arrived at the nursing home, the lights in the emergency room were already off.
Grandma Rose had stopped breathing an hour earlier.
I knelt by her bed, placing my Art Academy acceptance letter next to her cold hand.
“Grandma Rose, look, I got into the Art Academy. I can take you to Italy now…”
Later, the police took me away from the nursing home.
At the police station, I tried to recant my confession.
But my parents and their lawyer fabricated everything. They planted my clothing fibers at the scene. The surveillance cameras captured a figure resembling me from behind. They even had a text message, supposedly from me to Chloe, admitting it all.
On the day of the trial, my parents sat in the front row of the courtroom.
Chloe wept delicately against my mothers shoulder.
My mother gently patted her back. Father murmured comforts to her.
I kept my eyes forward and never looked back.
In the end, I was convicted of aggravated assault resulting in serious injury and sentenced to five years.
“Mommy, your hands are so cold.” Leo’s voice pulled me from the dark well of memory.
I pulled him close, my lips pressed to his hair.
“I’m okay. I have you and Alex. I’m not afraid.”
Then Alex was there, his arms encircling us both, his kiss a soft promise against my temple. “It’s all over now. I’m here.”
Suddenly, the wooden door of the studio was kicked open.
My parents stormed in, faces contorted with rage.
↓ ↓ Download the Novel Master app, Search 【 314558 】reads the whole book. ↓ ↓
NovelShort
