Chapter 6: Freedom in Goodbye

I focused on the task at hand.

“Making a deposit? Those birthday cards?” Carter sneered. “I thought you’d let Mom and Dad keep the cards. Savannah always does that.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

His words dripped with judgment.

I didn’t reply.

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to rise to the bait.

Carter scoffed, “So greedy for money at your age. But remember, you can be greedy for your own cash, but don’t reach for the family’s.”

He straightened, his tone icy.

The message was clear: know your place.

He was just the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

He’d made up his mind about me before I even opened my mouth.

The first week I came home, a gold necklace went missing.

I remembered the accusations, the way everyone looked at me like I was a thief.

Carter was sure I stole it.

He didn’t even ask for my side of the story.

He’d already decided I was guilty.

He thought I was badly raised, cared only about money, and was nothing but trouble.

He never let me forget it, not for a second.

Unexpectedly, this time, even before the necklace was lost, Carter had already made up his mind about me.

It was almost impressive, how quickly he found reasons to dislike me.

But I didn’t argue or care.

I handed my deposit slip to the teller, my hands steady.

I was done fighting for scraps.

I just made my deposit.

The teller smiled, counting out the bills.

I watched the numbers appear on the screen, each dollar a step closer to freedom.

Carter huffed and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

I felt lighter as soon as he left.

That night, my parents and Savannah were all there.

The dining room was bright, the table set with fine china.

It looked like a scene from a movie, but the script was all wrong.

They were helping me pick a school.

Brochures were spread across the table—glossy photos of manicured lawns and smiling students.

It all felt so staged.

The brochures were all for private academies.

Names I’d only ever heard in passing, places where kids wore blazers and talked about ski trips.

I spoke up for myself: “I don’t want to go to a private school. I want to go to Maple Heights High.”

My voice was steady, clear.

I met their eyes, daring them to argue.

A top public high school.

It had a reputation for being tough, but fair.

It was where I wanted to be.

Go to high school, take the SATs, and get out of this house.

I repeated the plan in my head, each step a promise to myself.

That’s my plan.

It was simple, solid.

It was mine.

I don’t want to be the rich family’s daughter.

I’d seen what that meant.

I wanted no part of it.

My parents were surprised. Savannah hid her delight and said, “Sis, we don’t need to go to a regular high school, we don’t even need to take the SATs—we’ll study abroad in the future.”

Her voice was sweet, but her eyes gleamed with relief.

She didn’t want me in her world.

“That’s right, Ellie, go to Rosehill Academy with your sister. We’ll plan your future for you,” my mother said, patting my hand.

She squeezed my fingers, her grip too tight.

I wanted to pull away.

My father’s eyes flickered, clearly thinking about something.

He tapped his pen against the table, lost in thought.

I knew that look—it was about appearances, always.

I knew what he was thinking.

He wanted to keep up the image of a perfect family, no matter the cost.

In my last life, I went to Rosehill Academy and became famous overnight—not in a good way.

Not the kind of fame anyone wants.

I was the subject of every whispered conversation, every sideways glance.

Not because I was dazzling, but because I stood out for all the wrong reasons.

I was the odd one out, the country girl in a sea of polished, privileged kids.

A small-town girl, studying with the richest kids in Maple Heights, completely out of place.

I never fit in.

I was a curiosity, a punchline.

And after news spread that I was the Brooks family’s real daughter, it became a joke.

People whispered behind my back, pointing and laughing.

I was a scandal, not a student.

People came to see me, only to find I was just a skinny, awkward country girl—of course, I was ridiculed.

They expected drama, glamour.

All they got was disappointment.

Worse, Savannah fanned the flames, not only finding people to bully me, but also getting a cute boy to flirt with me.

She orchestrated every humiliation, every cruel prank.

I didn’t stand a chance.

When I got swept up by sweet words, the boy recorded us and posted the videos online.

He posted them online, turning me into a joke for the whole school.

I’d never felt so exposed.

I became a laughingstock, completely disgracing the Brooks family.

The shame was suffocating.

I wanted to disappear.

At that time, my father was furious and slapped me so hard I fell.

The sting of his hand burned long after the mark faded.

I never forgot the look in his eyes.

“I knew this would happen if I let you go to a fancy school. You really embarrassed our family!”

His words echoed in my head, louder than the slap.

I stopped believing in apologies after that.

My father cared a lot about appearances, and I ruined that.

He never let me forget it.

I became the family’s dirty secret.

Now, my father was thinking about nothing but appearances again.

He glanced at Savannah, then at me, weighing which daughter would look better in the family photo.

Savannah could keep up his image, but what about me?

I was a liability, a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.

“I only want public school. Let me go to Maple Heights High.” I was firm.

I looked him in the eye, daring him to refuse me.

My mother still tried to persuade me, but my father interrupted, “Alright, alright, let the child decide. If we love her, we shouldn’t force her.”

He waved a hand, dismissing the argument.

I saw relief in his eyes—one less problem to manage.

I almost laughed, but held it in.

The absurdity of it all threatened to bubble over.

I bit my lip, swallowing the sound.

The laughter that didn’t escape turned into a cold calm inside.

I straightened my shoulders, determined to see this through.

I started high school.

The first day was a blur of new faces and unfamiliar hallways.

I kept my head down, blending in as best I could.

Maple Heights High.

The building was old but sturdy, the kind of place that had stories in its walls.

This school was the farthest commute, so after two weeks, I suggested living on campus.

I waited until dinner, the words rehearsed in my head.

I wanted to be gone before they could change their minds.

The whole family, eating dinner, was surprised.

Forks paused midair, eyes wide.

Savannah’s mouth fell open in perfect shock.

Carter, rarely home, glared at me. “Live on campus? Ellie Brooks, why do I feel like you’re not close to us at all?”

His tone was sharp, accusatory.

I met his gaze, unflinching.

“You’ve been back for over half a month and still aren’t used to home?”

He made it sound like a crime, like not fitting in was a personal failing.

How could I get used to it?

I wanted to ask him that, but I held my tongue.

I tried for three years and never got used to it.

Some things just aren’t meant to fit, no matter how hard you try.

“Living on campus makes it easier to study.”

I calmly explained.

I kept my voice even, refusing to let them see how much this meant to me.

Carter narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

I could feel his disapproval from across the table.

My mother squeezed my hand. “Ellie, is something wrong? Mom always feels like you don’t fit in with us…”

Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

I wanted to tell her the truth, but I didn’t see the point.

Yes, I don’t fit in.

I wanted to scream it, but I stayed silent.

So, out of sight, out of mind.

It was easier for everyone that way.

“It’s just for studying.”

I explained again.

I forced a smile, hoping she’d let it go.

Beside me, Savannah’s eyes filled with tears, about to cry. “Sis, you must hate me, right? Don’t live on campus. I’ll go—I won’t bother you anymore.”

She sniffled, her voice trembling.

She played the martyr perfectly.

After saying this, she went to pack her things.

She made a show of it, slamming drawers and dragging her suitcase into the hallway.

I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

The whole thing was so transparent, it was almost funny.

Savannah, you’re really desperate.

She was running out of moves, and she knew it.

For more than half a month, she’d always tried to pick fights or provoke me.

She’d push my buttons, waiting for me to snap.

I never gave her the satisfaction.

But I didn’t fight or compete, like a stone in the river.

I just floated along, letting her drama wash over me.

Savannah couldn’t do anything about me.

She was used to being the center of attention.

I refused to play along.

Now, finally catching a chance to get sympathy, she immediately started acting.

She knew exactly how to work the room.

I almost admired her commitment.

Anyone with half a brain could see through Savannah’s little tricks.

Her tears dried up the second no one was watching.

I saw her smirk as she passed by the kitchen.

My parents and brother certainly saw it too, but they didn’t care.

They favored Savannah.

They let her set the rules, and everyone else played along.

Carter put down his fork. “Savannah, why live on campus? Sit down.”

His tone was firm, final.

Savannah obeyed, slipping back into her seat with a pout.

Savannah sniffled and sat down.

She dabbed at her eyes, already moving on to her next performance.

My father took the chance to agree to my request. “Since Ellie wants to live on campus, let her. It’s no big deal.”

He shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

I saw the relief in his eyes.

Of course it’s no big deal.

After all, in my last life, I lived on campus too.

Nothing I did ever really mattered, not to them.

Strictly speaking, I lived in a rented room near the school.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine.

I learned to love the quiet.

Back then, because Savannah repeatedly provoked and slandered me, I was still immature and got into a fight with her.

She pushed every button, and I finally snapped.

It was a mistake I’d never forget.

We fell down the stairs. I wasn’t hurt, but Savannah’s head was bleeding.

Blood pooled on the hardwood, and I froze in shock.

Savannah’s screams echoed in my ears.

I thought I’d won, but when the family rushed over, I realized I’d lost completely.

Their anger was swift, overwhelming.

I was the villain in their story, no matter what really happened.

My mother hugged Savannah, crying, in pain.

She rocked her, whispering apologies.

I stood alone, shaking.

My father, furious, grabbed me and yelled, “Ellie Brooks, what are you doing! Are you crazy?”

His grip was bruising, his words louder than the pain.

Carter was home too, and without a word, kicked me. “You think this is the sticks? Who lets you fight like that? Apologize to Savannah!”

The kick knocked the air out of me.

I gasped, clutching my side.

The whole family’s anger crashed down on me.

Their voices blurred together, a storm I couldn’t escape.

I apologized, terrified, while Savannah packed her things, crying.

She slammed drawers, her sobs echoing through the house.

I watched, helpless.

She said I didn’t like her, so she wanted to live somewhere else, leaving me the house.

Her words were a dagger, twisting deeper with every syllable.

Of course the family didn’t want that—they begged her to stay.

They pleaded, promising anything if she’d just forgive me.

I stood aside, stunned.

I pressed my back to the wall, wishing I could disappear.

Carter suddenly yelled at me: “You mess up and don’t even know how to act sorry? I think you should move out. This house only has room for Savannah!”

His words hit harder than any kick.

I felt the floor fall out from under me.

I was shocked awake.

No wonder my parents always looked like they wanted to say something but stopped.

The truth was right in front of me, all along.

Turns out, they hoped I’d move out on my own.

They didn’t have to ask.

I did the hard part for them.

Like a slap in the face, it woke up me, the late-blooming girl.

I finally saw them for who they were.

It hurt, but it was freeing, too.

I moved out, forced to leave my family.

I packed my bags in silence, slipping away before anyone could stop me.

I lived in that rented room for two whole years.

The walls were thin, the heater barely worked, but it was mine.

I learned to be alone, and that was enough.

My thoughts returned, and I went upstairs to pack.

This time, I didn’t hesitate.

I moved quickly, determined not to look back.

I’m going to move out early.

If they wanted me gone, I’d make it easy for them.

As you wish.

I zipped up my suitcase, feeling lighter already.

I rented a tiny apartment near Maple Heights High, not actually living on campus.

It was barely big enough for a bed and a desk, but I made it work.

I hung fairy lights on the wall, a small rebellion against the darkness.

Only one housekeeper was around.

She was older, her hair pulled back in a neat bun.

She watched me with kind, worried eyes.

She looked puzzled and quietly asked me, “Miss, are the Brooks really okay with you living here alone? Why don’t they visit?”

Her voice was gentle, almost apologetic.

I could tell she wanted to help.

Of course, they wouldn’t come.

I shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter.

I’d stopped expecting anything from them.

After all, Savannah was upset again, and they were busy comforting her.

Their priorities were always clear.

Seeing I didn’t answer, the housekeeper awkwardly tried to comfort me: “Maybe they’re busy. They’ll come see you when they’re done.”

She patted my shoulder, offering a sad smile.

I nodded, not wanting to argue.

She was wrong.

I knew better.

Some people never change.

My parents and brother never came to see me at all.

Not once.

The silence was louder than any argument.

I moved out for over a month and didn’t get a single call.

My phone stayed silent, except for the occasional spam text.

I stopped checking after a while.

It was as if everyone had vanished.

I got used to the quiet, the freedom.

I started to feel like myself again.

Later, I ran into Savannah.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the sun low in the sky.

I was carrying groceries, minding my own business.

On the way back to my apartment after school, I saw her riding a motorcycle, leading a pack of friends down the street, looking so full of herself.

She was the picture of rebellion—leather jacket, sunglasses, laughter trailing behind her like perfume.

It stunned me for a moment.

I stopped in my tracks, watching her weave through traffic like she owned the road.

Savannah is the family heiress—she shouldn’t be acting like a street rebel, roaring around on a motorcycle.

It didn’t fit the image she showed at home.

I wondered if my parents knew about this side of her.

If my parents knew, they’d definitely scold her.

Or maybe they’d just turn a blind eye, like they always did.

She seemed to notice me too, revved up, and stopped right in front of me.

Her friends peeled away, giving us space.

She grinned, pulling off her helmet with a flourish.

Before I could say a word, she took off her helmet and looked at me with a sly grin. “Ellie Brooks, long time no see.”

Her voice was teasing, almost affectionate.

I wasn’t fooled.

I just nodded.

I shifted my groceries, waiting for her to get to the point.

She shook out her hair, crossed her arms, and asked, “Did Mom and Dad not call you even once?”

She arched an eyebrow, daring me to lie.

I nodded.

I kept my face blank, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

She asked if I wanted to know why.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

I shook my head.

I didn’t care about her reasons.

I’d heard enough lies for one lifetime.

She went on anyway, “Actually, they wanted to call you, but whenever they did, I cried. To take care of me, they just didn’t call you.”

She smiled, proud of her manipulation.

I wondered if she ever got tired of playing the victim.

“Of course, the real reason is, they blame you!”

Her words were sharp, meant to hurt.

I let them wash over me, untouched.

I listened quietly.

I’d learned the power of silence.

It drove her crazy.

Savannah held back a laugh. “You’ve been home a while, but you’re not close to Mom, Dad, or Carter at all. Don’t you think they’d resent you?”

She leaned closer, eyes glittering with malice.

I stood my ground.

“I used to be scared you’d come back and I’d lose my place. But what happened? You left home on your own, handed everything over. Thanks for that.”

She straightened, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

She thought she’d won.

As she spoke, she watched my face carefully.

She was searching for cracks, waiting for me to break.

She was testing me.

I could see the calculation in her eyes.

She wanted to know if I’d finally given up.

Trying to see if I was just dumb or if I was stepping aside on purpose.

She didn’t realize that I was done playing her game.

I wanted to laugh.

Not out of bitterness, but out of relief.

I was finally free of her, of all of them.

Savannah, aren’t you tired?

I wondered if she ever got tired of pretending, of scheming. I hoped one day she’d figure out what real love felt like. But that wasn’t my problem anymore.