BEYOND YESTERDAY

PROLOGUE Eliana woke to the sound of rain. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. Then the pain reminded her. The basement. Her room. She stared at the cracked ceiling above her. A single bulb flickered weakly, casting shadows across the walls. The room was cold, but she barely noticed. At sixteen, Eliana had learned not to expect comfort. This basement had been her bedroom for years. An old bed stood against one wall. A small wooden desk sat beneath the narrow window near the ceiling. Her schoolbooks were stacked neatly on the desk, even though she hadn't been able to concentrate on her homework that evening. Beside her pillow was the only thing she treasured more than anything else. A photograph of her mother. Eliana reached for it carefully. Her ribs hurt when she moved, so she stopped halfway and rested her head against the pillow. She looked at the photograph. Her mother was smiling. A real smile. A smile that belonged to a time when Eliana had still believed that home was the safest place in the world. A tear slipped down her cheek. "Mom," she whispered. The word barely escaped her lips. She closed her eyes. She could still remember her mother's voice. Her laugh. The way she used to brush Eliana's hair before school. The way she called her my brave girl. Eliana wished she could hear that voice again. She wished her mother had been there. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe her father wouldn't have changed. Maybe Eliana wouldn't have learned to fear the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. A noise came from upstairs. Eliana froze. Footsteps. Her father's footsteps. Her breathing became shallow. She stared at the basement door. One step. Another. Then silence. Eliana pulled the blanket closer. She hated being afraid. She hated what her life had become. Most of all, she hated the thought that perhaps her father was right about her. For years, he had blamed her for her mother's death. He had told her that her mother worried too much because of her. That Eliana had made things harder. That maybe her mother would still be alive if Eliana had been different. And Eliana had believed him. She had been a child when her mother died. A child who didn't understand cancer. A child who didn't understand grief. A child who only knew that her mother was gone and her father was angry. But tonight, lying alone in the darkness, something inside Eliana began to change. A tiny thought appeared. Maybe it wasn't my fault. She opened her eyes. For the first time, she allowed herself to consider it. Maybe she hadn't caused her mother's illness. Maybe she wasn't responsible for her father's anger. Maybe she wasn't the person he had spent years telling her she was. Eliana looked toward the tiny basement window. Beyond it was the outside world. A world she had almost forgotten existed. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. She didn't know how she would escape the life she was living. She didn't even know if she was strong enough. But somewhere beneath the fear, there was still a small part of her that wanted to live differently. And that small part was enough. Because this was not the end of Eliana's story. It was the beginning.