The Girl Nobody Came For

Would there ever be a day in this house without arguments?

Without shouting?

Without someone crying?

I honestly didn't know anymore.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling above me, I felt exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Mentally.

Spiritually.

I was tired of pretending everything was okay.

Tired of smiling.

Tired of forgiving.

Tired of hoping.

Most of all, I was tired of being unwanted.

The argument downstairs had ended hours ago.

The house was quiet now.

Yet somehow, the silence felt louder than the screaming.

I pulled my blanket closer and turned onto my side.

Sleep should have come easily.

Instead, my thoughts refused to leave me alone.

Again and again, I replayed my mother's words.

"If I had just abandoned—"

Abandoned what?

Abandoned who?

Me?

The possibility made my chest ache.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No.

I shouldn't jump to conclusions.

Maybe she meant something else.

Maybe I was overthinking.

But deep down...

I knew I wasn't.

For years, I'd tried to ignore the truth.

Tried to convince myself that my mother loved me in her own way.

That one day she would change.

That one day she would smile at me the way she smiled at Linda and Elena.

But after twenty-two years...

How much longer was I supposed to wait?

Another twenty-two?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

What a joke.

At this point, I wasn't even angry anymore.

I was just tired.

So very tired.

I wanted to leave.

Not because I hated them.

But because staying hurt too much.

I wanted a fresh start.

A new life.

A place where nobody looked at me with disgust.

A place where I didn't have to earn every scrap of affection.

A place where I belonged.

But where would I go?

I had no relatives.

No close friends.

No secret inheritance.

No miracle waiting for me.

The only person I truly had was Dad.

And the thought of leaving him behind broke my heart.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"Dad..."

I whispered his name into the darkness.

Without him, I would have been completely alone.

And that thought scared me.

A lot.

My eyes drifted toward the small box resting on my desk.

The box that had contained the car keys.

The box that had somehow caused another family war.

The box that had revealed just how much Dad loved me.

And just how much everyone else resented me.

I sighed.

Then another thought entered my mind.

One I couldn't ignore anymore.

What if Mom wasn't my real mother?

The question made my stomach twist.

I'd asked myself that countless times growing up.

But tonight...

It felt different.

Tonight, I actually believed it might be true.

Maybe Dad had loved someone else before Mom.

Maybe he'd had a child with another woman.

Maybe that child was me.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

Because what mother could hate her own daughter this much?

I stared at the darkness.

Who was my real mother?

What did she look like?

Did she have my eyes?

My smile?

Did she think about me?

Did she miss me?

Was she alive?

Or had she already died?

My chest tightened.

If she was alive...

Why had she never come for me?

If she loved me...

Why had she abandoned me?

And if she didn't love me...

Then what was the difference between her and Kathy?

The questions wouldn't stop.

They chased each other around my head like a storm.

Hour after hour.

Memory after memory.

Pain after pain.

Suddenly, I found myself thinking about childhood.

The memories came without permission.

Like ghosts.

The first memory was from when I was ten.

A stupid glass ball.

I still remembered it.

Linda loved that thing.

She treated it like treasure.

One afternoon, she accidentally dropped it.

The ball shattered instantly.

I hadn't even been in the room.

Yet somehow...

The blame landed on me.

Like always.

"Laura broke it!"

Linda cried dramatically.

I remembered standing there in confusion.

"What?"

"You broke it!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Mom!"

The next thing I knew, Kathy was dragging me upstairs.

I tried explaining.

Tried defending myself.

Tried telling the truth.

She never listened.

Not once.

That day she locked me inside my room.

No dinner.

No water.

No explanation.

Nothing.

I spent an entire day alone.

Hungry.

Scared.

Crying.

I was only ten years old.

Ten.

And somehow, I still convinced myself Linda didn't mean it.

She was young.

Kids made mistakes.

At least, that's what I told myself.

The second memory hurt even more.

I was eleven.

Dad had bought me a beautiful dress.

Blue.

My favorite color.

It was the first expensive thing anyone had ever given me.

I loved it so much that I hung it carefully inside my closet.

A week later...

It was gone.

At first, I thought I'd misplaced it.

Then I smelled smoke.

I followed the smell into the backyard.

And there they were.

Linda and Elena.

Standing beside a pile of ashes.

Laughing.

My dress.

My beautiful dress.

Burned.

Gone forever.

I remembered crying.

Not because of the dress.

But because they looked happy.

Happy to hurt me.

When Mom found out, she didn't punish them.

She punished me.

For leaving my belongings where they could reach them.

Even now, I still couldn't understand the logic.

Maybe there wasn't any.

Maybe there never had been.

A fresh tear rolled down my cheek.

Then another memory surfaced.

The worst one.

The one that still haunted my nightmares.

I was thirteen.

Linda had asked for help.

That should have been my first warning.

"Laura."

"What?"

"Can you get my pillow from the storage room?"

I frowned.

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm busy."

She smiled sweetly.

A fake smile.

One I was too naive to recognize back then.

"Please?"

I nodded.

Of course I did.

Because I always wanted them to like me.

Even then.

I walked toward the storage room.

Opened the door.

And stepped inside.

The room was tiny.

Windowless.

Filled with old furniture and dusty boxes.

I found the pillow almost immediately.

Then—

SLAM!

The door shut.

I froze.

At first, I thought it was an accident.

Then I heard laughter outside.

Linda.

Elena.

My blood ran cold.

"Very funny."

No answer.

I grabbed the handle.

Locked.

My heart skipped.

"Open the door."

Silence.

I knocked.

Harder.

"Linda?"

Nothing.

"Elena?"

Still nothing.

Then panic began to set in.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Darker.

Harder to breathe.

I started pounding on the door.

"LET ME OUT!"

Nothing.

My breathing became erratic.

The air felt heavy.

My chest hurt.

Tears blurred my vision.

I screamed until my throat burned.

I begged.

I cried.

I apologized for things I hadn't done.

"I'm sorry!"

Silence.

"I'm really sorry!"

Nothing.

"Please let me out!"

No answer.

I called for Linda.

For Elena.

For Mom.

For anyone.

Nobody came.

Nobody.

Eventually, I started calling for Dad.

Because he was the only person who ever came when I cried.

"Dad!"

I pounded the door harder.

"Dad!"

My voice cracked.

"Daddy!"

The darkness swallowed my cries.

And for the first time in my life...

I genuinely thought I was going to die.

Alone.

Forgotten.

Unwanted.

Just like always.

I curled into a corner and cried until I couldn't cry anymore.

Hours passed.

Maybe six.

Maybe eight.

I didn't know.

Then finally—

Footsteps.

My heart leapt.

The lock clicked.

The door slowly opened.

Light flooded the room.

And standing there...

Wasn't Linda.

Wasn't Elena.

Wasn't Mom.

It was Dad.

The moment he saw me trembling on the floor, his face changed.

And what happened next was the first and only time I ever saw Giovanni McKenzie completely lose control...

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