Ep 2

The Dawson house hadn’t changed.

That was the first thing that hit Jade as she stood at the edge of the driveway, clutching her coat tighter around her frame. The siding still peeled in the same corner, the shutters hung slightly crooked, and the porch light flickered like it always had — a bulb perpetually on its last breath, much like the family inside.

Her gut told her to turn around. To walk away, text her mother some excuse, and never look back. But her chest ached with a hunger that wasn’t just for food. It was for warmth, for the scent of her mother’s cooking, for a glimpse of the woman who had been both shield and chain all at once.

She pressed the doorbell.

It was her mother who answered, as if she’d been standing just on the other side, waiting. “Jade,” she breathed, and for a moment her eyes shone so brightly it almost undid Jade’s resolve.

“Hi, Mom.” Her own voice cracked, and she hated how much it gave away.

Her mother pulled her into a hug that smelled of garlic, thyme, and the faint powdery scent of the drugstore perfume she’d always worn. For just a heartbeat, Jade let herself melt into it. She had missed this — the press of her mother’s arms, the way her cheek always brushed against Jade’s hair like she was trying to memorize the feel of her.

Then a voice sliced through the fragile peace.

“So, the prodigal daughter returns.”

Jade stiffened. She pulled back, and there he was.

Her father.

He hadn’t changed either. Still broad-shouldered despite the years, his presence filled the hallway like smoke — suffocating, bitter, impossible to ignore. His eyes locked on her with that same cold scrutiny that had gutted her since childhood.

“Dad.” She said it flat, clipped, like the word was poison on her tongue.

His mouth curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Didn’t think you’d crawl back, not after the little voicemail you left your mother.”

Her mother flinched. “Dinner’s getting cold,” she murmured quickly, ushering them both toward the dining room, as though mashed potatoes and roast chicken could soak up the venom already dripping into the air.

---

The table was set for three. Jade lowered herself into the chair she’d once occupied night after night, back when she was still a girl trying to survive in this house. The familiarity of it all was dizzying.

Her mother served chicken, ladling gravy over mashed potatoes, filling the silence with clinking cutlery and soft pleasantries. Jade tried to smile, to answer questions about school and work, but every time her father spoke, the food turned to ash in her mouth.

“So,” he said finally, carving into his chicken with deliberate force. “You still wasting money on that psychology nonsense?”

Jade’s jaw tightened. “It’s not a waste. I’m close to finishing.”

He snorted. “Close to finishing what? A degree that won’t pay your rent? That’s not education, that’s a hobby.”

Her mother’s hand twitched on her fork, eyes darting between them. “She’s doing well—”

“Don’t defend her,” he cut in, voice sharp. “She thinks she’s better than us because she can spout textbook nonsense about feelings.”

Jade set down her fork. Her hands trembled, but her voice came out sugar-sweet, laced with venom. “You’re right, Dad. Who needs education when I could just follow your example? Drinking myself into oblivion and blaming everyone else for my failures?”

The air went still. Her mother’s face drained of color.

Her father’s eyes narrowed, his knuckles whitening around the knife. “Careful, girl.”

Jade smiled tightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just making conversation.”

The rest of the meal dragged like barbed wire. Every comment he made was a jab; every response she gave was a polished blade wrapped in silk. Her mother tried to smooth over the silences with questions about friends, work, recipes — but it was like placing bandages over a gaping wound.

By the time dessert came, Jade’s insides were raw. She stared down at the slice of pie on her plate, appetite gone, chest pounding. Her mother smiled faintly at her, eyes pleading: Just get through tonight. Please.

Jade forced another sugary smile. For her mother’s sake.

But when she finally stood to leave, the relief was palpable, like she was stepping out of a chokehold. She grabbed her coat, slung her purse over her shoulder, and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Dinner was good, Mom. Thank you.”

Her mother’s arms lingered around her for just a second too long, like she wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

Jade didn’t look back at her father as she stepped out the door.

She thought she was free.

The night air cut cold against her cheeks as she stepped off the porch, purse heavy at her side. Relief surged with every step toward the curb, her lungs gulping greedily at freedom.

Then her stomach sank.

She froze on the sidewalk.

Her purse felt too light.

Keys.

She swore under her breath, turning back toward the house. The thought of facing him again made her chest tighten, but she told herself she’d be quick — grab the keys off the counter, mutter a goodnight, and leave.

The front door was still ajar. Her mother must not have latched it. Jade pushed it open silently, stepping into the hall.

That’s when she heard it.

Her father’s voice — low, venomous, rising with each syllable.

“…raised her like some whor* who thinks she’s better than me—”

A sharp crack cut him off. The sound of a hand striking flesh.

Jade’s stomach lurched.

Her mother’s broken gasp followed. “Stop—please—”

Rage tore through Jade so violently it rattled her bones. For years she had swallowed this poison, carried it in silence. For years she had believed leaving was enough. But standing there, seeing shadows thrash across the dining room wall, hearing her mother’s sob choke the air—

Something inside her snapped.

She stormed into the room, voice hoarse with fury. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

Her father’s head whipped around. His face was red, eyes glassy with drink, spit shining at the corner of his mouth. “You—”

But Jade didn’t let him finish.

She shoved him. Hard.

It startled him, knocked him back against the chair with a grunt. For a heartbeat he looked stunned — as if the girl who had once cowered in corners had finally grown claws.

Jade’s chest heaved. Years of fear, humiliation, shame poured out all at once. Her voice shook but it was thunder.

“You don’t get to hurt her anymore. You don’t get to hurt me anymore! Do you know what you made me, Dad? I don’t even believe in hate — but I hate you. I hate every night I had to lie awake praying you wouldn’t come into my room drunk. I hate every bruise you left on her arms. I hate every time you told me I was nothing!”

Her mother’s hands covered her mouth, eyes wide, tears brimming.

Her father recovered, pushing up from the chair, rage flaring. “You ungrateful little—”

But Jade cut him off again, stepping closer, her finger stabbing the air like a blade.

“No. You don’t get to speak. Not now. Not after everything. You’ve poisoned this house long enough. You want someone to blame for your failures? Blame yourself. You lost your job, your dignity, your family — all because you can’t control what you are. A coward. An abuser. A man too weak to admit he’s broken.”

Her words cracked like whips, and for the first time she saw it — the flicker in his eyes, the split-second where her father wasn’t towering over her, but shrinking under the weight of her truth.

He raised his hand again, as if muscle memory demanded it, but Jade didn’t flinch this time. She stepped forward, chest out, daring him. “Do it. Go ahead. But it’ll be the last time. Because I swear, I will drag you into the street myself if you ever touch her again.”

The silence was thick. Even the house seemed to hold its breath.

Her mother’s sob broke it.

Jade turned, grabbed her mother’s trembling hand, and pulled her up from the chair. “Come with me. You don’t have to stay here. Not anymore.”

Her mother hesitated, eyes flicking to the man she’d loved once, the man who had ruined so much. But Jade squeezed her hand tighter. “Mom. Please. Let’s go.”

Something shifted in her mother’s face. Resignation. Grief. A small, desperate spark of courage. She nodded.

Jade led her to the door, her father’s voice barking after them. “You think you can just walk out? You think the world will care about you? You’re nothing without me!”

Jade spun at the threshold, her own voice sharp as glass. “No, Dad. I’m finally something without you.”

Then she slammed the door so hard the windows rattled.

---

Outside, the night seemed different — colder, but cleaner. Her mother clutched her arm, still shaking. Jade pressed her lips to her mother’s hair, whispering, “It’s over. I’ve got you.”

For the first time in years, she felt the weight shift. The years of silence, the buried rage — they hadn’t destroyed her. They had armed her.

And she wasn’t afraid anymore.

The cab ride back to her apartment was silent. Her mother sat beside her, hands folded tight in her lap, staring out the window as though the city lights might wash away what had just happened.

Jade wanted to speak, to comfort, but her throat was raw. Every word she could imagine felt too small, too fragile, against the years of damage. So she simply pressed her hand over her mother’s and held it there the entire ride.

When they finally climbed the narrow stairs to her unit, Lisa’s voice floated from the couch. “You’re late—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes landing on the unfamiliar figure at Jade’s side.

“This is my mom,” Jade said quickly, her tone warning against questions. She tugged her mother toward her room before Lisa could push. “She’s staying with me tonight.”

Lisa frowned, but didn’t argue.

Jade shut the door behind them, exhaling shakily. Her mother perched on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, eyes red. Jade handed her a glass of water, then crouched in front of her.

“You’re safe here,” she whispered. “He can’t touch you now.”

Her mother nodded faintly, but Jade could see the terror still etched in her features. It struck her then — she wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore. She had someone to protect. Someone who’d never left that house until tonight.

It made the weight on Jade’s shoulders double.

And yet, beneath it all, was a flicker of pride. Because for once, she hadn’t run.

---

Morning arrived harsh and loud.

The constant banging on the front door jolted Jade awake. She scrambled up, heart hammering, careful not to wake her mother who was still curled under the blanket.

Lisa was already in the kitchen, eyes wide. “It’s the landlord,” she whispered.

Jade swore under her breath, smoothing her hair quickly before slipping out into the hall. She shut the bedroom door behind her.

Mr. Dwyer stood at the threshold, arms crossed, his thinning hair damp with sweat though the morning was cool. “Miss Dawson,” he barked, “I’ve been more than patient. But patience runs out. The rent is overdue. Again. And I don’t care about your excuses this time.”

Jade forced a tight smile, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind her so her mother wouldn’t hear. “Mr. Dwyer, please. Just give me a few more days. I’m working on it. I promise you’ll have the money.”

He snorted. “Promises don’t pay bills. Friday, Jade. That’s your last chance. After that, I start the eviction process.”

Her chest tightened. “I’ll have it,” she said quickly. She didn’t know how, but she couldn’t let him see the truth.

When he finally left, muttering to himself, Jade leaned back against the door, her hands trembling. She pressed her palms to her face, willing herself not to break.

She couldn’t let her mother hear. She couldn’t let her see how close they were to losing everything.

---

Her phone buzzed.

Jade jumped, fumbling it from the counter.

Unknown number.

She answered hesitantly. “Hello?”

A crisp female voice greeted her. “Good morning, Miss Dawson. This is Ms. Pierce, calling regarding your application for the live-in nanny position. Are you available for an interview today?”

Jade’s heart lurched. “Yes—yes, absolutely.”

“Excellent. One o’clock. The address is in your email. Be prompt.”

The call ended before Jade could even thank her.

She pulled the phone from her ear, staring at the screen in disbelief. One o’clock. Less than an hour.

Panic set in. She glanced at the laundry basket still half-folded in the corner, at her mother still asleep in her room, at the hollow refrigerator she’d meant to fill.

The walls seemed to close in again. Rent. Her mother. The practicum. Now this interview that might be her only chance.

Her stomach twisted with tension, her breath coming fast.

Because everything — absolutely everything — was riding on today.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***