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I wanted to see Fin.
Amid everything, I needed to see him.
We locked eyes for a second when he was being removed from the doorway and the look in his eyes was murderous. If the aides didn’t reach for him when they did, he would have barged in there and destroyed everything.
But there was also a promise behind his gaze. A promise that this would not be the last time we saw each other. And that was the only reason I left without putting up one last fight.
My adoptive parents walked on ahead and climbed into the red BMW parked at the front entrance.
The aide released my arm and strolled over to the trunk and tossed my suitcase inside before slamming it shut.
“Get in the car!” My mother’s voice rang out.
From the sound of her tone, there was no room for discussion. I walked towards the car door, dreading each step I took towards my personal hell.I didn’t even have time to turn around and say goodbye to Murdoch Home one last time before they shoved me inside the car.
“Hello, Barbara.”
Goose bumps brushed my skin as I came face to face with Grant Walsh. At the obvious shock on my face, his lips turned upwards into a smile, but the smile never reached his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, mortified.
“Is that anyway to greet him? I thought we raised you a little better than that, but clearly, we were wrong.” My mother gawked, turning around in her seat to give me another pointed glare.
“I heard you were being released, and I wanted to see you,” Grant answered, never breaking his smile.
“That’s a lie.”
“That’s not nice. I missed you,” he said, his fake smile widening.
“If you missed me, you would have checked on me. You would have meant something to me even before I was admitted into Murdoch Home.”
“Please, Barb, you are being dramatic.” Grant sighed, finally giving up on his facade.
Ever since I was in high school, my adoptive parents had been trying to get Grant and I together. He was fifteen years older than me, but that didn’t bother them. Especially when he would approach them after sermon on Sunday to butter them up with talks about the Bible and how Jesus saves all. In the beginning, I was also captivated by him. The way he could light up a room and grab hold of everyone’s attention without saying much. But then I heard the stories about him—how he treated women. He was a man who believed women were only good for one thing —taking care of a man. Women belonged at home, preparing dinner for the man and tidying up the house. There was no room for wants or dreams or desires.
In his eyes, it was deemed more appropriate for women to be submissive and on their knees. But the only man I would ever humble myself for was inside Murdoch Home.
I opened my mouth to fight back, but then John turned around and gave me one of his looks. The one that told me if I opened my mouth again, there would be hell to pay. So I shut it and resorted to glaring at Grant. This earned me one of his half smiles before he shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and turned his attention to the window.
I felt the car come to life and my heart raced. Blood rushed behind my ears and I wished more than anything to see Fin run out the front door.
One… Two… Three…
I counted until the car pulled away, then I was hit with the earth-shattering realization:
No one was coming to get me.
Two hours later, we pulled up to the house. My little slice of personal hell. I walked into my old room and already felt out of place.Memories of my time in Murdoch Home made me miss the overly white walls and cleaning supplies smell. As I stared at my pretty pink walls and stuffed animals that lined my bed, I didn’t feel like this girl anymore.I dropped my luggage by my closest and left to find my parents in the living room. On the way home, we’d dropped Grant off at his house. He made a show of kissing my hand before leaving. But I knew he was just faking it, like with everything he did.
My slippers brushed against the hardwood floor and stopped when I stood in front of my parents. They were whispering something under their breath, but stopped when I entered the room.
“Have a seat.” John pointed to the chair across from them and I sat down.
I never had an issue calling Susan ‘Mom,’ but her husband John never gave off the fatherly feeling to me, so I always called him by his first name. Or called him nothing at all.
“We sent you there to get better, and you did the opposite,” John said.
They looked at me as though I was a failure, as though they wished they had adopted another little girl or had one of their own instead. But did the doctors also tell them that someone almost raped their daughter? They never once called to check up on me.
