Chapter 2

Hours passed. My legs trembled uncontrollably, and a fire burned through every muscle. My vision started to blur at the edges. The ropes had rubbed my wrists raw.

"I can't," I gasped, my voice a dry rasp.

"You can and you will," Uncle Caleb's voice boomed from the doorway. "Pain is weakness leaving the body."

My mother stood beside him, her expression unyielding. "Stop being dramatic, Molly. This is nothing. Think about your future."

I let my head fall back against the wall, the rough concrete scraping my skin. They didn't see me. They only saw a problem they needed to erase.

Suddenly, a tiny figure appeared in the doorway. It was my little brother, Ryan. He was only seven, and his eyes were wide with fear and confusion. He clutched a granola bar in his small hand.

He tiptoed over to me, his movements silent and cautious.

"Molly," he whispered, holding out the bar. "Are you hungry?"

Before I could answer, my mother's sharp voice cut through the air.

"Ryan! Get away from her!"

She strode over and snatched him by the arm, pulling him back. "Don't you dare give her that. She's being punished."

She glared down at me. "See what you're doing? You're a bad influence. You're a quitter, and you're teaching him to be one too."

Ryan started to cry, his small body shaking. "But she's hurting, Mommy."

"She's faking," Debra snapped, dragging him out of the garage. "Don't you ever listen to her."

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the dim, cold light. The burn in my legs was now an unbearable agony. My body was screaming, but the pain in my chest was worse. The one person who showed me kindness was punished for it.

Just as I felt I was about to pass out, the garage door flew open again. This time, my mother's face was pale with panic.

"Get up," she ordered, her voice frantic. "We have to go. It's Grandpa. He's had a massive stroke."

Uncle Anthony untied my wrists with a grunt of annoyance. My legs gave out instantly, and I collapsed onto the concrete floor, my body a useless heap of pain. I couldn't feel my legs at all.

"Get up, I said!" Debra yelled, kicking my foot. "We have to go now. You're watching Ryan."

I tried to push myself up, but my arms trembled and failed. My vision swam. "I can't move," I choked out. "My legs..."

"Oh, for God's sake, stop the act!" she shrieked. "We don't have time for this!"

They left. They just walked out, leaving me on the cold floor, barely conscious, with the responsibility of my seven-year-old brother. The sound of their car speeding away echoed in the empty garage.