Part 3Her Own Life

When my mother picked me up from the hospital, I clung to the hem of her skirt, my knuckles white. I hadn’t slept the entire night, convinced she would never come back. Seeing her walk through the door had been a dizzying relief. The moment we got home, a secret joy bloomed in my chest. See? She still wants me.

But the second we were inside, I watched her pull a large suitcase from the hall closet.

With a manic, joyful haste, she began throwing clothes and makeup inside. There was a lightness in her movements I’d never seen before, a smile playing on her lips.

“Mommy?” I whispered, reaching for her hand.

She didn’t look up. “Oh, I made plans with Sharon. We’re going to that music festival in the desert. I have to leave now if I’m going to make it on time.”

I stood frozen. “Mommy, what about me?”

She finally paused, her eyes skimming over my pale, sweat-slicked face without a flicker of concern. “The medicine is in the bag on the counter. You’re a big girl. You can take care of yourself for a few days.”

A few days?

The residual weakness from the hospital was instantly consumed by a tidal wave of panic. I grabbed her sleeve, tears streaming down my face.

“Don’t go! I’m scared to be alone… my stomach still hurts… Mommy, please!”

My cries were shrill in the quiet apartment.

Her brow furrowed, the cheerful smile vanishing, replaced by a familiar, sharp-edged irritation. She yanked her arm away, the force of it sending me stumbling backward onto the cold tile floor.

“What are you crying for? Stop it!” she snapped. “I said I’ll only be gone for a few days! Can’t you be a little more independent? Stop clinging to me all the time! I’m exhausted enough as it is.”

Her voice rose, cracking with a frantic self-pity. “No one has ever helped me! I just want a moment to breathe! Why is that so much to ask?”

The zipper on the suitcase shrieked as she pulled it closed.

The doorbell rang.

My mother’s face instantly transformed, the anger replaced by a bright smile as she hurried to the door.

Outside stood Sharon, dressed in a trendy festival outfit, and her daughter, Jessica. Jessica was wearing a brand-new pink dress, clutching a beautiful doll, her face alight with excitement.

Sharon’s eyes fell on me, and she flinched. A flicker of awkwardness crossed her face. “Oh, Mia. Look how big you’ve gotten.”

I didn’t speak. I was afraid of this woman, the one who had made me eat the pepper. After that incident, my parents had a huge fight, and I hadn’t seen her since.

Sharon must have remembered too. She gave a strained laugh and turned back to my mother. “Ready? The Uber’s waiting downstairs.”

My mother grabbed the suitcase. “Let’s go, let’s go. We’ll be late.”

They turned, laughing and chatting, as they walked away. My mother glanced back at me one last time, not with concern, but with a warning. “Be good and stay inside.”

The heavy security door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. It cut off their laughter and locked my sobs inside.

Through the thick metal, I faintly heard Sharon’s voice.

“…Hey, are you sure about this? Leaving her alone? What if she tries to go outside?”

My mother’s footsteps stopped.

A few seconds of dead silence.

Then, the distinct sound of a key sliding into the lock.

Click.

A clean, cold, metallic sound.

From the outside, my mother had thrown the deadbolt.