- 6.
Grandma Walker got straight to the point,
laying both the papers right in front of me.
“Emily, the Walker family was facing
bankruptcy back in the day. The Carter
family’s inheritance saved us. So, we kept our
promise and raised you like you were made of
gold.”
<.
“Liam is a good, honorable boy. He knew
you’d been mooning over him for years. He
married you out of gratitude.”
“But Emily, the Walker family doesn’t owe
you anything. You can’t bite the hand that
feeds you.
She took my scarred hand in hers.
Her words were kind, but her tone left no
room for argument.
“I’m returning the Carter family’s inheritance,
doubled.”
“I don’t need you to pay back the Walkers‘
kindness.”
“Just do us a favor. Let Liam go. Let him be
happy with Jessica.”
I just stared at Grandma Walker.
I remember when I was little, she used to hold
me in her arms.
She’d tell me that Liam and I were a match
made in heaven.
But years flew by.
And now, I, the childhood sweetheart, was the
villain trying to tear them apart.
This world is messed up.
I took the divorce papers and signed them
without hesitation.
From now on.
The Carters and the Walkers were strangers.
And Liam and I would never see each other
again.
Grandma Walker said a few polite things,
satisfied, and left.
I lay in the empty room.
Counting the zeroes on my bank statement.
I didn’t know how to feel.
All I knew was I needed to find a place to
start over.
As far away from Liam as possible.
As soon as I could stand on my own two feet,
I transferred to a new hospital.
I used the money Grandma Walker gave me
to buy a house with a yard.
I filled the yard with sunflowers.
I thought moving would erase the past, but
every time I closed my eyes, I was wrong.
The memories were like venomous snakes,
coiling around me.
I woke up from nightmares, again and again.
The physical and mental pain was unbearable.
I tried to see a therapist, but I was terrified of
people.
Jessica’s press conference was all over the
news.
Everyone believed her story.
That I’d ignored warnings, gone into a
restricted area to take pictures, and gotten
trapped.
They said I deserved it. I brought it on myself.
That I should have died over there. That they
wasted resources trying to save me.
L
<.
“Why should we pay for the rich girl’s
mistakes? She should’ve just died.”
“Couldn’t she clean herself up on the plane?
She’s just trying to get attention.”
“She’s disgusting!”
They spread my photos everywhere.
Someone even screenshotted when my dress
rode up, writing nasty, filthy things about me.
It was torture.
Whenever I felt like giving up, I’d look at the
sunflowers.
Those flowers, always facing the sun, gave
me the will to keep going.
Finally, I found the courage to leave the house
and contact a well–known therapist.
He listened to my story, silent for a long time.
“You need more than a therapist right now.
You need a lawyer.”
