I sat in the car staring through the window, trying to see them.

  My father.

  My mother.

  Standing somewhere outside the police station.

  Talking.

  Arguing.

  I tried to read their lips from where I sat, but the distance was too far.

  So I waited.

  Minutes passed.

  Then more.

  It felt like hours.

  Finally, I saw my father walking toward the car.

  Something about his face made my stomach drop.

  It was blank.

  Not angry.

  Not sad.

  Just… empty.

  The kind of emptiness that makes you feel like the world just shifted beneath your feet.

  He opened the door and sat down quietly.

  “Dad?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer immediately.

  Then he spoke, his voice bitter.

  “She wants custody.”

  My heart stopped.

  “What?”

  “Your mother,” he said slowly. “She wants to fight for custody of you.”

  The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

  After all these years.

  After leaving us.

  Now she wanted me back?

  Anger surged through me.

  I reached for the door handle.

  “I’m going to talk to her”

  Dad grabbed my arm gently.

  “Don’t.”

  His voice cracked.

  “It’s going to be fine.”

  But I knew it wasn’t.

  Dad had just lost a job recently.

  We were barely stable.

  If my mother fought for custody…

  She would win.

  There had to be something I could do.

  Something.

  Anything.

  When we got home, David was waiting.

  The moment I saw him, I ran straight into his arms.

  All the fear and exhaustion of the day finally caught up with me.

  “I almost went to jail,” I whispered.

  He hugged me tighter.

  Dad called him over after a moment.

  “David, we need to talk.”

  They went into the other room.

  I went to mine.

  And lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

  Helen falling.

  My mother appearing out of nowhere.

  The charges being dropped.

  Something about all of it didn’t feel normal.

  How did she know I was at the police station?

  How did she know I needed help?

  And why did the accusation suddenly disappear?

  The questions circled in my mind until sleep finally came.

  Morning came too quickly.

  Dad told me I could stay home.

  But I shook my head.

  “No.”

  If someone thought they could destroy my life

  Then they were wrong.

  I got dressed and went to school.

  The moment I entered the building, everyone stared.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Shock spread through the hallway.

  Whispers exploded around me.

  “She’s back.”

  “I thought she got arrested.”

  “How did she get out?”

  I walked past them without looking at anyone.

  Let them stare.

  Let them talk.

  I didn’t care.

  When I entered the classroom, the noise grew louder.

  Then I saw them.

  Clara.

  Steven.

  Both of them looked shocked.

  The sight made something dark and satisfied inside me smile.

  I sat down calmly.

  Students kept whispering, but I ignored them.

  Then Miss Rose walked in.

  For once, she didn’t look smug.

  She looked… nervous.

  She avoided my eyes.

  Didn’t ask me to answer questions.

  Didn’t make her usual jokes about my skin color.

  It was strange.

  Almost like she was afraid of me.

  I wondered if it was my imagination.

  After school ended, I was walking toward the gate when someone grabbed my arm.

  Steven.

  He pulled me aside roughly.

  For a moment, the old Teresa would have followed silently.

  But I was tired of being dragged around.

  I yanked my arm free.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He looked furious.

  “How did you get out of jail?” he demanded.

  His jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful.

  I stared at him.

  Why did he care so much?

  This was my life.

  My problem.

  Why did this Satan’s agent want me locked up so badly?

  “That’s none of your business,” I said coldly.

  I turned to walk away.

  He grabbed my arm again.

  That was it.

  I ripped my arm free.

  “Touch me again,” I snapped, “and I’ll show you exactly why you call me a black bitch.”

  The shock on his face was almost satisfying.

  For once, he had nothing to say.

  Then he muttered something that made me pause.

  “Because of you, our lives are ruined.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “What are you talking about?”

  But he looked like he had already said too much.

  His expression shifted quickly.

  He turned and walked away.

  I stood there, watching him disappear.

  In my mind, one thought echoed.

  How did I ever have a crush on that?

  Then another thought followed.

  Someone had planned this.

  Someone wanted to destroy me.

  Maybe even kill me.

  But who?

  The answer refused to come.

  A chill ran down my spine as I walked home.

  Because one thing was certain.

  I had enemies.

  Dangerous ones.

  What I didn’t know was that someone nearby had overheard the entire conversation.