They Found Me, Then Ordered Me To Leave

Chapter 4 The Shattered Prize

"What did she say?" Amelia let out a sharp, bitter laugh, her eyes instantly swimming with tears. "She didn't say anything. She took one look at this and fainted. She's in the hospital RIGHT NOW!"

The world went silent, a hollow ringing in my ears.

"Do you have any idea what this did to her?" Amelia's voice was a blade, twisting. "It took her right back to the day you vanished! You were sitting by the door, drawing, just waiting for her! That broken plate? It's the one she served your honey-glazed barbecue ribs on! That bird? It was a sparrow on the power line that day!"

She pointed a trembling finger at me, her accusation hanging in the air. "You're throwing it in her face. Reminding her it was her fault she lost you! Jessica, this painting is nothing but blame!"

The spark of hope didn't just die; it was drowned, leaving not even smoke behind.

I wasn't blaming her.

Every line I sketched was a reflection of my own heart.

I drew that sealed door, for the doors of my family had always been slammed shut in my face.

I drew that broken plate, for my return shattered the fragile peace they'd clung to for so long.

I drew that lone bird, for I had always envied its freedom to fly off and own the boundless sky.

Never once, not even for a second, had I ever intended to blame her.

The words were a faint breath, lost before they fully left my lips. "I didn't mean to. That's not—"

"Yes, it is!" She snatched the framed picture back from my numb hands.

With a look of pure revulsion, as if handling something contaminated, she gripped the sides and ripped it—canvas, backing, and all—straight down the middle.

The pieces fluttered to the dirt between us.

"Jessica, why did you even have to come back?" All her pent-up resentment burst forth in a tearful, sharp cry. "We were finally okay! Mom and Dad had finally moved on! Why did you have to wreck it all? Mom just started having normal days again, and now you're trying to destroy her!"

Sobbing, she turned and ran, leaving me alone with the wreckage.

The golden "First Place" seal was torn in two, its broken edge catching a pathetic glint of light.

I stood there until the shadows grew long, then slowly bent down to gather every wrinkled fragment, stuffing them into my backpack.

*****

The night was a deep well by the time Samuel finally came home. He carried the sharp scent of hospital antiseptic and a weariness that seemed bone-deep. But there was no violence that night—no raised hand, no shattered yell.

Wordlessly, he entered my cramped storage-room bedroom.

I was sitting on the bed, trying to piece the fragments back together with glue.

The moment his gaze landed on it, the air around him seemed to solidify.

All warmth drained from his expression, leaving behind something unreadable and hard.

Bending down, Samuel dragged my hidden drawing board and my tin of precious art supplies from under the bed.

A wave of panic hit me. "Dad, please—"

Ignoring me, he stood in the center of the room, raised his foot, and brought his heel down hard.

A sickening "c***k" split the air as the wooden board snapped in half.

Then he opened the tin. One by one, Samuel took out the pencils and brushes I'd saved for, bought with skipped breakfasts. They were my only friends, my only color. Now, they were gone. All gone.

Each crisp, breaking sound was a direct blow to my chest.

He dropped the last bisected pencil into the trash and straightened up, his gaze absolute.

"No more drawing. Ever." His voice was colder than winter ice, harder than stone.

Samuel looked at my ashen face, devoid of any pity. "Jessica, listen closely. There's only one way this family finds peace."

He paused, a judge delivering a final sentence. "You. Have to. Forget. You're Jessica Nelson."