Chapter 3 - Breaking the Ties
The next morning I drove home alone. The apartment felt tainted. Toys scattered where Clara had left them. The coffee mug Linda had been holding when I confronted her still sat on the counter.
They were both waiting in the living room. Linda looked exhausted. Natalie scrolled on her phone like nothing had happened.
“How is she?” Linda asked, voice small.
“Alive,” I said flatly. “No thanks to you.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “It was one mistake. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
I stared at my sister. The girl I had protected growing up. The woman who had called my daughter an inconvenience. “Pack your things. Both of you. You have two hours.”
Linda stood up, indignation flaring. “This is my home too. I help with Clara so you can work those godforsaken shifts.”
“You drugged her,” I said, voice low and steady. “You could have killed her. And you—” I turned to Natalie “—laughed about it. I don’t want your help. I don’t want either of you near my daughter.”
The argument escalated quickly. Linda cried. Natalie threatened to call family members and paint me as ungrateful. I stood firm, showing them the medical report on my phone. The numbers. The warnings about respiratory depression in children.
In the end, they left. Suitcases dragged across the floor. The door slammed. The silence that followed was the first peaceful one I had felt in years.
May you like
I spent the rest of the day cleaning. Washing sheets. Removing every trace of their presence. When I found Linda’s bottle of sleeping pills hidden in a drawer, I threw it in the trash like it was poison. Which it had been.
That night, I brought Clara home. She was still weak but smiling. We ordered pizza and watched cartoons. She fell asleep in my arms on the couch, her stuffed elephant between us. I carried her to bed and sat beside her until dawn, guarding her sleep like the treasure it was.
