Chapter 6: The Price of Betrayal

That day, we parted on bad terms.

The fight clung to the air, thick and bitter. Evan’s jaw was clenched, his eyes flat. I didn’t even look back as he left.

Evan wanted to say more, but was called by my parents to Lily’s room.

I heard his footsteps echoing down the hall, away from me, toward her. Again.

I pulled out my IV and left the hospital on my own.

My body protested, weak and sore, but my pride pushed me forward. I wrapped a scarf around the bandage, stuffed my things in a duffel, and slipped out past the nurses’ station.

I hid in a private clinic on the outskirts of Maple Heights.

It was small, run-down, but quiet. The doctor didn’t ask questions, just handed me antibiotics and a stern warning.

I had a high fever again and again, my mind often fuzzy.

Some nights I woke up drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around my legs. The fever left me adrift, floating in and out of dreams.

In my dreams, I always heard someone whispering by my ear, but when I opened my eyes, it was just the nurse changing my IV.

She was kind, in a brisk, no-nonsense way. She left me crackers and a bottle of ginger ale on the nightstand.

A week later, I returned to the house Grandma Carol left me.

The key felt heavy in my palm. I hesitated at the gate, my heart pounding, hoping for a slice of peace.

As soon as I opened the wrought iron gate, all the blood in my body ran cold.

The yard was full of sunlight, birds chattering in the oak tree. But none of it mattered. My world shrank to the porch.

Evan was standing next to Lily, who was holding a bunch of flowers Grandma had grown, wearing the pearl bracelet Grandma left me.

Lily spun the bracelet around her wrist, laughing. Evan stood too close, his hand hovering at her back. It was all wrong.

When Grandma was dying, she put the bracelet on my wrist and kept wiping my tears.

Her hands had been thin, trembling, but full of love. The memory hurt more than the wound on my head.

She said to forgive her selfishness—she was going to join Grandpa.

She smiled, even as she faded. “Don’t be afraid to let go, honey.”

She said this bracelet would always protect me in her place.

It was supposed to be a shield, a promise. Seeing it on Lily’s wrist felt like someone had reached inside and twisted my guts.

I was shaking with rage, rushed up, and hit Lily with my bag.

My breath came in ragged bursts. My bag—full of loose pens and receipts—swung wild, connecting with her shoulder.

“Who let you in here!”

My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. This was mine—my house, my things.

Evan blocked her behind him.

He stepped in front of Lily, arms out. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow where my bag’s zipper caught him, but he didn’t flinch.

The metal zipper on my bag left a cut on his forehead, now bleeding.

A bright red line slid down his temple, staining his white collar. I almost felt sorry—almost.

I didn’t care. I’d lost control: “Take off the bracelet and get out of my house!”

My voice echoed off the walls, desperate and raw.

Evan hugged me tightly, trying to calm me down. “Maya, you just recovered, calm down.”

His arms were strong, but I fought against them, clawing to get free.

How could I calm down?

All the anger, the betrayal, the loneliness crashed over me at once. I was done pretending to be okay.

I slapped him, crying and yelling, “This is my house, it’s in my name! Evan McAllister, what right do you have to bring her here?”

My hand left a red mark on his cheek. My voice cracked with every word.

“What right do you have to let her take my things!”

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Evan’s face twisted in something like regret.

I broke free from his arms, pulled a utility knife from my bag, and charged at Lily.

I didn’t want to hurt her—I just wanted her gone. The blade gleamed in the afternoon light, my hands shaking.

She stumbled back two steps and ‘accidentally’ fell to the ground.

It was a familiar move—Lily collapsing, playing the victim. Her flowers scattered across the polished wood floor.

Only the sound of a ‘clink’ was left in the air.

The bracelet hit the tile, pearls bouncing in all directions. It sounded like a heart breaking.

The bracelet broke.

The string snapped, pearls rolling under the couch. My stomach twisted.

The flowers scattered across the floor.

Pink petals mixed with shards of mother-of-pearl. Chaos everywhere I looked.

At that moment, I felt something inside me shatter too.

I sank to my knees, hands pressed to my chest. The world blurred around the edges.

My legs gave out and I nearly collapsed. Evan caught me just in time, but I pushed him away hard.

He tried to hold me up, but I shook him off, not wanting his comfort.

“Maya…” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable.

He sounded like a stranger, lost and desperate.

Lily sat on the ground sobbing, “Sis, I didn’t mean it…”

Her voice rose in a wail, perfectly pitched. I wanted to scream.

So noisy, so noisy.

The world spun, my head buzzing. I pressed my palms to my ears, but it didn’t help.

“Get out!” Kneeling on the ground, I trembled as I picked up the shattered pieces of pearl, not even noticing the sharp edges cutting my fingers. Blood welled from my fingertips, mixing with my tears. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Evan suddenly grabbed my fingers and, without hesitation, put them in his mouth to stop the bleeding. “Don’t cry, okay? I’ll find someone to fix it, it’ll definitely be fixed.”

His lips were warm, his hands gentle. He looked at me as if he could will the world right again. I didn’t believe him.

It can’t be fixed.

Some things can’t be put back together, no matter how hard you try.

Grandma won’t protect me anymore.

She was gone, and with her, my safety net.

Tears blurred my vision.

I let them fall. I was done pretending.

I pulled back my hand, looking coldly at Evan, the real culprit. “She’s taken everything from me. Are you satisfied now?”

My voice was flat, empty. I wanted him to feel what I felt—hollow and used up.

“What?” His eyes were a little red.

He looked at me like he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he never did.

My reason returned. I dialed 911 with shaking hands. “I’d like to report a crime. Someone broke into my house and stole valuables.”

My voice was icy, my hands steady. If they wanted a war, I’d give them one.