Chapter 5: Breaking June’s Fairytale

She swayed, her knees buckling. The tears came fast, silent and hot, leaving streaks down her cheeks. My heart twisted, aching for her.

"My baby, Zoey."

Her voice cracked on my name. She reached out, fingers trembling, and I took a hesitant step forward. I wanted to close the gap between us.

Her hands trembled as she stroked my hair, her whole body sinking into some kind of pain I couldn't understand.

She pulled me close, burying her face in my hair. Her body shook with silent sobs, and I felt her pain seep into me, heavy and suffocating. I held on tight, afraid to let go.

Dad Carter calmly walked over and helped Mom up, just as smooth as always.

He played the gentleman, even when he was being cruel. He lifted her to her feet, his touch possessive. I watched, anger burning in my chest.

"Alright, you've seen the kid. Don't throw a fit anymore."

His words were cold, dismissive. He acted like I was a problem to be managed, not a person. I wanted to shout at him, but I stayed silent.

Mom's crystal tears still clung to her cheeks. She turned her gaze away from me, staring off into space.

She looked past me, her eyes empty. I wanted to call out to her, to beg her to see me, but I couldn't find my voice. My throat felt tight.

I heard her say, slow and distant,

Her words drifted through the air, barely more than a whisper. I strained to hear, hoping she would change her mind.

"Seeing Zoey makes me sad, Carter. Can you send her to boarding school?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at her, stunned, as Dad Carter pulled her into his arms. My knees went weak.

Dad Carter pulled her into his arms, pulling her close.

He stroked her hair, murmuring reassurances. I watched them, feeling smaller than ever. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"Sure, whatever you want, sweetheart."

His voice was syrupy sweet, but his eyes were cold. I knew he didn't care about what I wanted. The room felt colder than ever.

Before I was taken away by the staff, Mom got permission to hug me once.

She knelt down, wrapping her arms around me. Her grip was desperate, almost painful. I held on tight, not wanting to let go. My eyes stung with tears.

Her burning tears soaked into my collar, and I heard her whisper,

Her voice was barely audible, but I heard every word. It was the first time she'd ever apologized to me, and it broke my heart. The words echoed in my head.

"Zoey, I'm sorry."

She kissed my forehead, her lips trembling. I tried to memorize the feeling, knowing it might be the last time. My heart felt like it was breaking.

Mom's scent was complicated—a sweet perfume with a faint trace of blood.

There was something sharp beneath the sweetness, something that made me uneasy. I clung to that scent for years, long after everything else had faded. The memory lingered in my nose.

I remembered that smell for a long, long time.

It haunted me, lingering in my dreams. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night, convinced she was there, only to find my room empty. The loneliness would hit me all over again.

On the first day of elementary school, I saw a familiar figure from behind.

The school was huge, full of strangers. I kept my head down, clutching my backpack. Then I saw her—a woman with dark hair pulled into a bun, walking with that same confident stride. My heart skipped a beat.

She looked just like Ms. Ramirez. I froze, then ran after her.

My heart pounded as I chased her down the hallway, my shoes squeaking on the linoleum. I didn't care if people stared. My hands shook as I ran.

I didn't dare call her Mom, so I screamed until my voice cracked,

The words tumbled out, desperate and wild. I wanted her to turn around, to see me, to take me home. My throat burned.

"Ms. Ramirez, don't go! Please, Ms. Ramirez, don't leave me!"

My voice echoed down the hallway, raw and pleading. I felt tears sting my eyes, but I kept running. My chest hurt from hope and fear.

But I was too small. I couldn't catch up to anyone. The bodyguard scooped me up like a sack, and I watched that figure disappear.

He picked me up without a word, carrying me away as if I weighed nothing. I twisted in his arms, straining to see her one last time, but she was already gone. My hands reached out, empty.

I knew then that I'd never see Ms. Ramirez again.

Something inside me broke that day. I stopped believing in happy endings. I stopped believing in rescue. My heart felt hollow.

Some people only go numb after living long enough to realize life is full of bad things.

But for me, numbness came early. I learned to expect disappointment, to brace myself for the worst. Hope was a luxury I couldn't afford. I told myself it was easier that way.