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Chapters (85)
  1. BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY
  2. ONE
  3. Rosey
  4. TWO
  5. Byron
  6. THREE
  7. Rosey
  8. FOUR
  9. Byron
  10. FIVE
  11. Rosey
  12. SIX
  13. Byron
  14. SEVEN
  15. Rosey
  16. EIGHT
  17. Rosey
  18. NINE
  19. Byron
  20. TEN
  21. Rosey
  22. ELEVEN
  23. Byron
  24. TWELVE
  25. Rosey
  26. THIRTEEN
  27. Byron
  28. FOURTEEN
  29. Rosey
  30. FIFTEEN
  31. Rosey
  32. SIXTEEN
  33. Byron
  34. SEVENTEEN
  35. Rosey
  36. EIGHTEEN
  37. Byron
  38. NINETEEN
  39. Rosey
  40. TWENTY
  41. Rosey
  42. TWENTY-ONE
  43. Byron
  44. TWENTY-TWO
  45. Byron
  46. TWENTY-THREE
  47. Rosey
  48. TWENTY-FOUR
  49. Rosey
  50. TWENTY-FIVE
  51. Byron
  52. TWENTY-SIX
  53. Rosey
  54. TWENTY-SEVEN
  55. Byron
  56. TWENTY-EIGHT
  57. Rosey
  58. TWENTY-NINE
  59. Byron
  60. THIRTY
  61. Rosey
  62. THIRTY-ONE
  63. Rosey
  64. THIRTY-TWO
  65. Byron
  66. THIRTY-THREE
  67. Rosey
  68. THIRTY-FOUR
  69. Rosey
  70. THIRTY-FIVE
  71. Byron
  72. THIRTY-SIX
  73. Rosey
  74. THIRTY-SEVEN
  75. Byron
  76. THIRTY-EIGHT
  77. Byron
  78. EPILOGUE
  79. A month later – New York City
  80. 14 months later - Star Falls
  81. MR. MAYFAIR
  82. Beck
  83. Beck
  84. Stella
  85. BOOKS BY LOUISE BAY

Because she was my mother and I thought it was her job to do what was best for me. I thought it was my job to do what she told me.

I was wrong on both counts.

“I miss you,” I say, looking at all my sisters.

Marion’s eyes are glassy. I don’t want her to cry. I don’t want any of them to face the consequences of missing me too.

Unless.

Unless.

Unless I could encourage them to break free as well. They’ve all finished high school. None of them have to be here. I can’t scoop them up and bundle them into the back of a cab, but maybe I can give them hope.

I glance back to Mom, whose gaze is stuck on the TV. She’s so mad, she can’t even look at me.

I look at my sisters, trying to convey, without words, how much I love them. I have to tread a tightrope. I want to show them how good it feels to be independent, but at the same time I don’t want to make their lives more difficult when I leave.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I say to them, not looking at my mother.

“Exactly what I was about to say to you,” my mother hisses, suddenly coming back to life, as if she knows what I’m saying threatens her. Like she thinks there might be a chance my sisters will listen to me and break free from her. “Why are you here anyway? I’ve burned all your things. There’s nothing left for you here. Just get out.”

Even though I’ve always known my mom can be cruel and nasty and hurtful, I don’t think it’s until this moment that I realize she doesn’t love me. Not like a mother should. She doesn’t love my sisters either. If she did, she wouldn’t lash out like this. She’s not concerned about how I’m feeling, where I’ve been, how I’ve been surviving. All she cares about is herself. Aren’t all mothers supposed to love their children? Mom doesn’t love any of us.

Of course she doesn’t love me. She can’t. It’s not in her.

The last thread of attachment I have to this woman withers and dies. A deep sense of sadness settles over me. It’s grief for the mother I should have had.

“You deserve a happy life,” I say to my sisters, pushing down the feelings of betrayal I feel straining to get to the surface. “You don’t exist to serve this woman, even though she’s your mom.”

“I thought I told you to get out.” She switches off the TV and turns to face me.