Chapter 2

She carried the medicine into the kitchen.

In less than half an hour, a bitter, rank smell filled the living room.

My stomach turned, and I spun around to go back to my bedroom.

My father blocked the door.

"The medicine's ready. Drink it first, don't waste all the trouble your mother went to."

On the table sat a big bowl of black liquid, unnamed bits of debris floating along the rim.

I said, "I'm not drinking it."

My mother's face soured a little.

"I got up at five this morning to buy that medicine for you. Walked three streets over, spent more than three hundred dollars."

"Do you have any idea how tired I get, walking that far at my age?"

I looked at her, and suddenly the whole thing felt absurd.

She'd handed my sister three hundred thousand without blinking.

Spend three hundred on me, and it cut her to the bone.

My father picked up the bowl and shoved it in front of me.

"Don't be ungrateful."

"You gave yourself cancer, staying up all hours the way you do, and now you're being picky about this."

The liquid sloshed over the edge and splashed onto the back of my hand.

Hot enough that I flinched.

My mother jumped in at once.

"See, even your father's worried."

"Hurry up and drink it. When you're done, I'll make you more."

They closed in on me, one on each side.

And in that moment I finally understood.

They weren't afraid I'd die.

They just couldn't accept me dying in any way but the one they'd arranged.

I pushed the bowl away and locked myself in my bedroom.

Outside, my father started pounding on the door.

My mother didn't cry this time.

She asked me coldly, "Layla, you think your wings are strong enough now, that there's nothing I can do about you?"

I slid down with my back against the door.

My phone buzzed more than a dozen times.

The family group chat.

My sister, Wanda Swanson, had fired off nine photos in a row.

Snow-capped mountains, hotels, a yacht, and a table lined with champagne.

She was wearing a newly bought dress, making a heart at the camera.

"Thank you Mom and Dad for the trip. I feel so much better now that I'm away."

"I'll bring you presents when I get back."

My mother replied in a heartbeat.

"That's our Wanda, so thoughtful."

"Don't bother with presents, all that matters is that you're happy. If you run short on money, just tell Mom anytime."

My father sent a thumbs-up.

My aunt praised how pretty Wanda looked.

My uncle told her to stay safe.

No one asked where the money for the trip came from.

No one asked why I hadn't said anything in the chat.

I opened the member list and stared at my parents' and sister's names for a long time.

Then I left the family group chat.

When the notification popped up, I actually felt relieved.

Then I changed every one of my payment passwords and turned off Face ID.

My mother always used to say a family shouldn't keep secrets from each other.

So I'd never hidden my bank card PIN from her.

She knew my salary too.

She even remembered which day my company paid out bonuses better than I did.

My sister's income, though, she never once asked about.

When Wanda first started working she made eight thousand a month and spent twenty thousand.

Where the extra came from, everyone understood without saying it.

Only I had to be "independent."

After eighteen, I never spent a cent of the family's money, not even on a pair of slippers.

Things went quiet outside the door.

I called my best friend, Lavinia Dickerson.

When she picked up, I opened my mouth a few times and no sound came out.

Lavinia knew something was wrong.

"Layla, where are you?"

"Home."

"Did the medical results come back?"

I made a small sound of yes.

"Stomach cancer. I might need surgery."

She went silent for two seconds.

"How much are you short?"

My nose stung all at once.

She didn't push to ask if it was real.

She didn't tell me to try some folk remedy.

The first thing she asked was how much I was short.

I said, "Lend me thirty thousand first, and once I—"

"Account number."

"Lavinia, I don't know when I can pay it back."

"Cut the nonsense. Account number."

Before long the money came through, a full fifty thousand.

She said thirty might not be enough, and to keep the other twenty for the hospital stay.

I clamped a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't cry out loud.

Lavinia cursed at me. "Layla, if you dare skip treatment over money, I'll come to your place and drag you out myself."

I laughed a little.

That same night I packed my ID, my medical records, and a few clothes into a suitcase.

This home, I would never stay in again.