Chapter 3 The weight of being alone

Chapter 3

Crystal stumbled backward, her legs trembling. The house felt suffocating, the walls pressing in, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat.

She turned toward the stairs, desperate for a moment of quiet, just a moment to breathe, to think, to cry.

But her mother's voice pierced the air like a blade.

"You need to pay for the funeral expenses," Abigail said flatly, as if discussing a grocery list rather than the death of her husband.

Crystal froze. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. "I already drained my savings for his surgery," she said, voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed. "I can't afford the funeral fee. I can barely even afford a taxi to work."

Abigail stepped into view, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her expression was stony, emotionless.

"Then you're no use to us," she said. "Pack your things and leave."

Crystal blinked. "What?" she breathed, her voice small and stunned.

"You heard me," Abigail replied, her tone cool. "Leave."

Crystal stared at her mother, disbelief crashing over her like a tidal wave.

"I've done everything for this family," she said, voice breaking. "Ever since Dad got sick, it's been me. Not Mia. Not Matthew. Me."

She walked into the living room, her eyes flicking between her siblings. Mia scrolling lazily on her phone, Matthew yawning as if he'd just woken up from a nap. Neither looked up. Neither cared.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I was the one who took him to his appointments. I stayed by his side. I..."

A sharp slap cut her off.

Crystal gasped as her mother's palm connected with her cheek. The sting burned, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading through her chest.

"How dare you speak to your siblings like that?" Abigail snapped, eyes blazing with disdain. "You think we owe you something just because you played nursemaid?"

Tears welled in Crystal's eyes. "Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered. "Why have you always treated me like I don't belong here?"

Abigail scoffed and rolled her eyes. "If you want to stay, there's one condition," she said, her voice suddenly calm.

Crystal's stomach twisted. "What condition?"

"You'll marry Mr. Wren."

The name dropped like a stone.

Crystal's eyes widened. "What?"

"The dowry's already been collected," her mother continued, her tone disturbingly casual. "He agreed to pay for the funeral and take you as his wife."

"Mr. Wren?" she echoed in disbelief. "He's old enough to be my grandfather and a drunk! You know that!"

"I asked him for money right after I got the call," Abigail said with a shrug. "Told him your father needed surgery. Then showed him your picture. He definitely liked what he saw."

Crystal's breath hitched. "You knew Dad was already gone... and you still took the money?"

Abigail's smirk was cruel. "Of course. I had to look out for myself."

Crystal's world spun.

She was nothing but a bargaining chip to them.

A means to an end.

Crystal could barely stand. "You sold me... to him? For what? A few thousand dollars?"

Abigail didn't flinch. "It was enough. Enough for us to get by. And enough for you to have a roof over your head. If you're obedient."

Footsteps clicked down the stairs.

Mia strutted in, a smug smile curling on her lips and a brand-new Gucci bag slung proudly over her shoulder. She gave a little twirl, letting the soft leather gleam under the light.

"Here's your dowry," she said mockingly. "Looks better on Mom than wasted on that dead old man."

Crystal stared, her entire body shaking. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths. She looked at the bag, the smirk on Mia's face, the indifference in Matthew's slouch. All of it, all of them. It made her sick.

"You spent the money?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Abigail shrugged. "What did you expect? That I'd hand it over to you?"

Crystal swallowed the scream clawing at her throat.

"Since you all want me to leave, fine I'll leave," she said through gritted teeth. "Tomorrow."

She turned and started toward the stairs, but paused mid-step.

"Return the money," she said without turning around. "I'll pay for the funeral myself."

Abigail let out a cold laugh that echoed down the hallway. "You think you have a say in anything?"

Crystal didn't answer. She walked upstairs, every step heavier than the last. She pushed open the door to her father's room and sank onto the edge of his bed. His scent still lingered faintly in the air warm, comforting, like a memory trying not to fade.

She reached for the old watch on the nightstand. His watch. The one he wore every day. She folded it gently into a handkerchief and tucked it into her bag.

That night, she didn't eat. She didn't speak. She lay curled in bed, her pillow soaked with tears that wouldn't stop falling.

Downstairs, her family laughed over dinner like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn't died.

Like he wasn't part of the family.

When dawn broke, Crystal was already awake. Her eyes were dry. Her soul wasn't.

She had no love left in this house. No place. No home.

So she walked away with only her father's watch in her bag and her dignity barely intact.

She would leave the pain behind.

The betrayal.

The people who called themselves her family.

And for the first time... she saw the truth clearly.

She had never truly belonged here.

Crystal stood at the edge of the pavement, clutching her small suitcase. The early morning air, damp with yesterday's rain, whispered against her skin. She hadn't slept all night, packing in a daze, wiping away her tears. She had to be strong, she couldn't break now.

She unlocked her phone, her thumb hovering over Ian's name. It felt like an eternity before she dialed.

The phone rang. Once.....twice.

"Hey," Ian's voice answered, thick with sleep or indifference. Crystal couldn't tell which.

"Hey babe..." Her voice cracked, but she pushed through. "I... I need somewhere to stay. Things got worse at home. Can I stay with you... just for a bit?"

A long pause.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Ian finally replied, his tone flat.

Crystal blinked. "What? Why not?"

He sighed. "I heard what happened. Your sister told me."

Her heart raced. "My sister?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, voice detached. "She told me everything. Even guessed you'd call to stay with me."

Crystal's mind spun. Betrayed by her sister. Her stomach twisted in disbelief.

"Ian, please. I have nowhere else to go. Just for a week. I'll find a place soon."

He didn't hesitate. "Crystal, I don't have the money to feed you. You'd be a burden. I can barely feed myself."

Her breath caught in her throat. "A burden?"

"This relationship isn't working for me. I think we should take a break."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"Are you serious?" she whispered, the reality of his cold detachment sinking in.

"I need to do what's best for me," he said, unemotional. "You'll figure it out. People without homes find places to stay all the time. I'm sure you'll find someone who can take you in."

Her chest tightened as he ended the call. The phone dropped from her hand, her thumb numb against the screen. She dialed again, but it went straight to voicemail. She tried again....beep. Again.....beep. Again.....beep. No answer.

She stared at the phone, her reflection in a passing car window. Haunted eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. Her heart felt like it was shattering.

Sick, betrayed and alone.

Crystal clutched her suitcase tighter, wiping her eyes. She couldn't fall apart. Not now and not here.

She thought of calling her sister, demanding answers, but what was the point? Both of them had turned their back on each other.

She reached for Emily's number, desperate for the one person who might still care.

One ring.....two...three.

Then, beep... beep... beep. The call was cut off. No answer.

Her pulse quickened. She dialed again. Beep... Beep....Beep.

Her heart pounded, a cold knot tightening in her stomach. Why wasn't Emily answering?

The world felt hollow. The faces of passersby busy and whole only reminded her how far she'd fallen. Alone in a city that had once felt like home.

She sat down on the curb, burying her face in her hands. Her phone lay next to her, dark and silent, mocking her. No Emily. No Ian. No one.

Her chest heaved with the weight of it all. She refused to break, but one question burned in her mind: Why wasn't Emily who was her best friend answering at this dire moment?