Problems Ongoing

Chapter 5 – Echoes

Nia didn’t sleep.

She lay in bed, eyes open, staring into the dark as the hours dragged past. The city outside had gone quiet, but her mind hadn’t.

It never did.

By 2 a.m., she gave up trying.

By 4 a.m., she stopped pretending she was fine.

By 6…

She was still awake.

The ceiling blurred slightly as she blinked.

Then—

Laughter.

Faint.

Distant.

But familiar.

“You don’t even belong here.”

Her eyes shut tightly.

No.

Not now.

“They left you, you know.”

Her chest tightened.

Her fingers curled slightly into the sheets.

“You’re not really one of us.”

The voices were younger.

Sharper.

Cruel in that effortless, careless way only children could be.

Flashback – Age 12

The house had been brighter back then.

Full of noise. Movement. Life.

But not all of it was warm.

“You’re not even their real daughter.”

Nia stood frozen at the base of the staircase, her school bag hanging loosely from her shoulder.

Her younger sister stood a few steps above her, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. Their brother leaned against the railing nearby, watching with quiet amusement.

“They found you,” her brother added casually. “Like some stray.”

“That’s not true,” Nia said quickly, her voice smaller than she wanted it to be.

“Oh, it is,” her sister replied, tilting her head. “Why do you think you don’t look like us?”

Silence.

That question hit harder than the words before it.

“They didn’t want you,” her brother continued. “Your real parents, I mean.”

Nia’s grip tightened on her bag.

“They left you in a basket,” her sister said, almost sing-song. “Who does that?”

A pause.

Then the final blow—

“You’re basically a reject.”

Nia didn’t cry.

Not there.

Not in front of them.

She just turned and walked away, her steps quick, controlled.

But her chest felt tight.

Too tight.

School wasn’t better.

If anything… it was worse.

“Hey, isn’t that the girl?”

“Yeah—the adopted one.”

“The one who got dumped?”

Laughter.

Whispers.

Eyes that followed her down hallways, conversations that stopped when she passed.

Her siblings had made sure of it.

Told just enough people.

Let it spread.

“Guess even her real parents didn’t want her.”

That one stayed.

Nia sat at her desk, staring straight ahead, her hands folded neatly like everything was normal.

Like she didn’t hear it.

Like it didn’t matter.

But it did.

It settled somewhere deep.

Quiet.

Waiting.

Present

Nia’s eyes snapped open.

Her breathing was uneven now.

The room was dark. Silent.

Empty.

But the feeling wasn’t.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair.

“Get it together…” she muttered under her breath.

Her voice sounded steady.

But her chest wasn’t.

She swung her legs off the bed and stood, pacing the room once… twice… trying to shake it off.

It didn’t work.

It never really did.

You don’t belong.

Her jaw tightened.

“I do,” she said quietly.

Like she was arguing with something no one else could hear.

They left you.

She stopped pacing.

Just stood there.

Still.

“Then why am I still thinking about it?” she whispered.

No answer.

Only silence.

Morning came too fast.

Again.

By the time Marcus and Ryan saw her later that day, it was obvious.

Not to everyone.

But to them.

“You look worse,” Marcus said bluntly.

Nia shot him a look. “Good morning to you too.”

“I’m serious.”

Ryan didn’t speak—but his gaze lingered, sharp and observant.

“You didn’t sleep,” Marcus added.

“I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And I keep meaning it.”

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nia—”

“I said I’m fine.”

This time, her tone cut sharper.

Final.

Silence settled between them.

Tense.

Uncomfortable.

Ryan finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone.”

Nia looked at him.

Really looked this time.

For a second… just a second… something in her expression shifted.

Cracked.

Then it was gone.

“I’m not alone,” she said.

But it didn’t sound convincing.

Not even to her.

The conversation ended there.

But the tension didn’t.

Because the truth was—

Nia Carter could handle pressure.

She could handle responsibility.

She could handle the world watching her every move.

But the past?

The voices?

The questions she never got answers to?

Those were the things she couldn’t outrun.

And slowly…

They were catching up.