Chapter 5%
Callie’s POV
I listened to the voicemail again.}
Twice.
I already memorized the way her voice cracked when she said, “Please.“}
Each time, Sophie’s voice broke in a different place. Each time, I felt my resolve tremble like a cracked window in a storm.
“I keep opening the door like maybe you’ll come back…”
I wanted to drive straight home.}
I wanted to hold her.”
I wanted her to say those things while I was still standing in the doorway, before I had to become the woman who left.
But wanting doesn’t fix damage.}
And love isn’t always enough.
Later, I journaled just to breathe.
Day 30
I miss her. God, I miss her. But I don’t miss being invisible.
The silence was awful, but the pretending was worse.
I think Sophie’s hurting more than she knows how to say.”
l’hope Marcus sees it before it’s too late.
But I’m not the fixer anymore.}
I put the journal down, looked at my phone again, and hated myself for still hoping it would ring.
It didn’t.”
So I sat quietly, and tried to let it be enough.”
<-0
Sophie’s POV
The rnoment Callie left, everything tilted.”
Ava had moved in like she belonged. Her suitcases spilled into the hallway, her perfume clung to every doorknob, and she laughed too loud for a house like ours. Like Mom had never died. Like Callie had never mattered.}]
At first, I ignored her. Pretended she was another one of Dad’s disappearing guests. But she didn’t disappear.
She started trying to act like she was in charge.}
“Eat your dinner, Sophie,” she said the second night, tapping her blood–red nails against the plate like I was a dog.”
i didn’t answer. I stared at the table. The seat across from me was still empty, Callie’s seat. She always sat there, even when she was too tired to eat. She used to cut my toast into stars.
Ava wasn’t cutting anything into stars.
“You’re gonna have to use words eventually,” she said. “That whole mute act’s getting old.“}
That’s it. I looked her straight in the eye and pushed the peas off the table with the back of my fork. Let them scatter.
“You little-” she started, standing from her chair.
Dad walked in just then, setting down his briefcase like he hadn’t noticed the storm in the room.”
“What’s going on?” he asked.”
Ava smiled. Sweet. Sugar and knives. “Just working through a little attitude, babe.“}
“She’s adjusting,” he mumbled, not looking at me.”
I glared at him. Say something. Do something. But he didn’t. Just left again.}
They all don’t get it. No one does.”
They all think I’m angry. That I’m lashing out.”
But I’m not mad.”
I’m scared.”
I keep hearing the way Callie caid, “You can call her whatever you want.“}
Like she meant it.
Like she was already gone in her head.”
I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to fight me, fight for me. I wanted to know I still mattered.”
Instead, she packed her bag and walked away.
And now… I don’t know what to do with what’s left.”
Ava waited until Dad was out of earshot.!
Then she leaned down, close to my ear. “I’m not Callie. I don’t do patience. Try that again, and you’ll find out.”
11:15
Then she leaned down, close to my ear. “I’m not Callie. I don’t do patience. Try that again, and you’ll find out.”
Her breath was hot. Her voice too calm. It scared me more than if she’d yelled.}
I didn’t answer. I just left the table.
But that was just the beginning.
At school, I started drawing things I couldn’t explain, angry, loud things. My teacher asked if something was wrong. I said no. Because no one would believe me if I said yes.§
I left my homework in my bag and doodled in the margins of my math test until the teacher said my name three times.
I snapped a pencil in half just to feel something.
During recess, I shoved a girl who asked if I missed my mom.
The principal talked to me. She looked at me like she wanted to say I understand, but she didn’t.
She said maybe it would help to talk to someone.
I said I was fine.
She didn’t believe me.
Neither did I.§
At home, Ava picked little fights. Snatched my book when I wasn’t listening. Turned off my favorite show halfway through and said I didn’t “deserve screens” after my “little tantrums.“}
She never hit me.
But sometimes words feel worse.
She called me a brat. Told me I should be grateful someone like her was trying at all. Said Callie had left because I was too much to handle.
That night, I screamed at her to shut up. I pushed the plate of pasta she made onto the floor.
She slapped the table and shouted, “I’m done with you!“}
And I shouted back, “Good! Go to hell!”
I thought she’d hit me. But instead, she stepped close and said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard.}
“No wonder your real mom didn’t make it. You’ve probably been like this forever.“}
2/2
