Done Being Forgotten

After five years in captivity, I finally came home. Except there was already another daughter in my place, and somehow, Mom, Dad, and my brother, Samuel Lewis, had all developed strange "conditions." When I broke my ankle and texted Dad for help, he took forever to show up. "Sorry. My eyesight's been acting up lately. I couldn't make out the location you sent me." I was allergic to seafood, but Samuel brought me seafood chowder anyway. "Sorry. You know how bad my memory is. I forgot you couldn't eat it." One winter night, I came home without my keys and spent five hours locked outside before Mom finally opened the door in the middle of the night. "My hearing problems flared up again. I didn't hear you knocking." Desperate to fit into this family, I smiled and told them it was fine. Every single time. Until today, when my advisor gave me two choices. I could stay at my university and pursue my graduate degree there. Or I could join a highly classified research project across the country, where I'd live on a secure campus and wouldn't be allowed home for ten years. Holding both applications, I walked through the front door, intending to ask my family which one they thought I should choose. Then I saw Dad, whose eyesight was supposedly so bad, pick a single cat hair off Brie Lewis, my sister's collar, without even wearing his glasses. Mom, with her intermittent hearing loss, heard Brie give the slightest cough and immediately rushed to the kitchen to make her a hot drink with honey and pear. And Samuel, whose memory was supposedly terrible, sat at the piano playing a melody Brie had casually hummed a month ago. He didn't miss a single note. That was when I finally understood. Around Brie, all their conditions miraculously disappeared. And suddenly, I knew there was no reason to ask them anything. I tore up the application to stay at my university and texted my advisor: [I've made my decision. I'm joining the classified project.] Chapter 1 Corinne's POV Brie Lewis's eyes crinkled with delight as she applauded our brother, Samuel Lewis, at the piano. The living room had been warm and cheerful. Then I walked through the door, and for a split second, everything went still. A familiar ache tightened my throat. I'd been separated from my family and abducted when I was three. I didn't come home until I was eight, after the trafficking ring that had taken me was finally caught. When the police first brought me back, my parents, Gregory and Diana Lewis, had been overjoyed. Then one of our neighbors pointed at Brie and joked, "Now that your real daughter's back, I guess you'll have to send the adopted one away." Brie burst into tears on the spot. That night, Mom locked me outside and made me stay there until morning. "Brie's been part of this family longer than you have. You need to learn right now that you're not going to push her out." For five years, I'd dreamed of coming home. From that moment on, home became nothing more than a dream I'd never truly be part of. Fourteen years had passed since then. And in their eyes, I was still an outsider who might take Brie's happiness away at any moment. My phone vibrated in my pocket. My advisor, Dr. Vance Herring, had replied. [Corinne, once you commit to the classified research project, your records will immediately be sealed and transferred. You won't be able to come home for ten years. Are you sure about this?] I headed to my room to gather the documents I needed to start the process. But when I opened the door, my desk was empty. The envelope containing my paperwork was gone. I searched every drawer, then even checked the storage bins under my bed. Nothing. My heart skipped a beat. I hurried back to the living room. "Samuel, did you see the manila envelope on my desk?" Samuel was peeling an orange for Brie. He didn't even look up. "Oh, that envelope. Brie said she needed something to put her old sketches in. I saw the envelope sitting on your desk and figured it would work, so I gave it to her." His casual tone made my chest tighten. "I specifically told you yesterday that those were important documents and not to touch them." Samuel frowned and pulled out a wet wipe to clean his hands. "Sorry. You know how bad my memory is. It was sitting in the corner of your desk, so I thought it was just some old paperwork you didn't need anymore." There it was again. His bad memory. The familiar pain twisted in my stomach. On my eighteenth birthday, Mom and Dad had completely forgotten about me and taken Brie on the beach trip she'd always dreamed of. They didn't remember until they were already on the road. Then they called Samuel and told him to pick up something nice for me to eat. He came home with a container of steaming seafood chowder. And just as casually, he'd said, "You know how bad my memory is. I forgot you're allergic to seafood." Seafood chowder was Brie's favorite. Samuel didn't have a bad memory. He'd simply never cared enough to remember anything about me. Not even for a second. Brie's eyes immediately turned red. "Corinne, I'm sorry. I didn't know those documents were important. I already threw the envelope away with my old sketches... in the dumpster downstairs. "I'll go get it back for you, okay? Please don't be mad at Samuel." She started toward the door. "It's over ninety degrees outside, and that dumpster is filthy. What are you going down there for?" Dad grabbed Brie and stopped her, then turned on me. "Corinne, it's just some paperwork. Print another copy tomorrow. Brie didn't do it on purpose. Do you really need to act like you're putting everyone on trial over this?" Mom patted Brie's back soothingly. "Exactly. Corinne, if those papers were so important, you should've kept them somewhere safe. Don't turn around and blame everyone else now." Chapter 2 I would've kept them somewhere safe if I could. But Mom seemed to have forgotten. The tiny room they'd given me had nothing but a sliding door that didn't even lock. My desk was an old dining table they'd repurposed. There wasn't a single place in that room where I could lock away anything important. I looked at the three of them gathered protectively around Brie. Then I turned away, numb. "Fine. I don't blame any of you." I opened the door and stepped alone into the suffocating heat. The high temperature had turned the dumpster into a festering mess that reeked of sour, rotting garbage. By the faint glow of a streetlight, I fought back my nausea and dug through it with my bare hands. A sharp wooden takeout skewer sliced my finger, and blood immediately welled from the cut. Ignoring the pain, I kept digging until I reached the very bottom. Finally, I found the manila envelope, smeared with grease. When I saw that the documents inside were still intact, I breathed a sigh of relief. Back in my room, I sent Dr. Herring my final answer. [I'm sure. I'll leave in three days.] The project in Redstone was classified at the highest level. In addition to signing my own confidentiality agreement, I needed an immediate family member to sign an acknowledgment form. The next afternoon, I came home with the form. Dad was looking over a car purchase agreement. Brie leaned against him, pointing to several lines on the page. "Dad, I don't really understand this part about the maintenance plan." Dad leaned closer to the contract. His finger moved patiently over the dense fine print as he explained in a gentle voice, "Take your time. We need to go through these terms carefully. We can't let the dealership slip anything past us." He scrutinized every word, determined to make sure Brie wasn't taken advantage of. "Dad, I need a family member to sign something for a school project." I cleared my throat and held out the form. Dad looked up from the car contract, and the warmth vanished from his face. "Can't you see I'm busy? Brie's car costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. What happens if I miss something important in the contract?" He rubbed between his brows impatiently. "What kind of project needs my signature, anyway? My eyes are bothering me right now. Just tell me where to sign." I pointed to the blank space in the bottom right corner. Dad grabbed a pen from the table. Without so much as glancing at the title, he scribbled his signature across the page. His careless movement knocked over a half-full cup of coffee on the coffee table. Coffee spilled everywhere, soaking more than half of my form. "Oh!" Brie let out a startled cry. Dad reacted instantly. He snatched up some tissues and carefully blotted the coffee from Brie's car contract. Then he casually set the cup down in the middle of my soaked document to hold it in place. "Your form should still be fine even if it got a little wet, right? I'm getting older. My eyesight isn't what it used to be." His voice was flat, almost dismissive, just like it had been during my sophomore year of high school. One night, during a severe storm, I was walking home after an evening study session when an electric scooter ran a light and hit me. My ankle was broken. The pain was so intense I couldn't even stand. I texted Dad for help and sent him my location. I waited in the pouring rain for two full hours before a stranger finally called an ambulance for me. Dad's explanation that time had been simple. "I've been so busy lately that my eyes were blurry. I couldn't read the location you sent me, so I went the wrong way and lost time." Only later did I find out what had really happened. That night, Brie had told him she was afraid of the thunder. Dad had driven clear across the city to her favorite aromatherapy store to buy her a box of calming candles. Dad finished drying Brie's car contract, then seemed to remember something. "Oh, right. Your academic advisor texted yesterday asking me to confirm something about some kind of placement. "My vision was blurry, so I thought it was one of those automated spam messages and deleted it. You'll have to explain it to the school yourself." My hand froze in midair. My university had a strict confirmation process for guaranteed admission to its graduate program. If a parent failed to respond within forty-eight hours, the system automatically treated it as a rejection of the offer. With one casual tap of the delete button, Dad had turned years of my hard work into a joke. "Corinne, don't be mad at Dad," Brie said cautiously. "How about we put my car contract aside for now and let Dad focus on fixing the issue with your graduate school offer?" "No need." I pulled the coffee-soaked document out from under the cup. Dad's signature in the bottom right corner was still barely legible. Gregory Lewis. That was all I needed. "I don't need that graduate school offer anymore." I turned and went back to my room, then slipped the stained acknowledgment form into my document folder. My phone vibrated in my pocket. Dr. Herring had sent confirmation. [All paperwork has been reviewed and approved. Your car will arrive to pick you up at eight tomorrow night.] I looked out at the blazing afternoon sun and replied with a simple acknowledgment. Then I opened my closet and dragged my suitcase out from the very bottom. Chapter 3 After dinner, Mom was in the kitchen cutting fruit. I'd just showered and was heading back to my room when she called out to me. "Corinne, the AC in Brie's room is drying out the air, and her throat's bothering her. Go down to the storage room, find the humidifier, and clean it for her." "Okay." There was no AC in the storage room, so the place was stifling. Because the light had been broken for ages, I had to use the faint glow from my phone to find my way around. The shelves were high, so I climbed onto a wooden stool and stretched onto my toes to reach the humidifier on the top shelf. Just as my fingers brushed it, the stool beneath me gave a sharp crack. One of its old, worn legs snapped. I lost my balance and crashed hard to the floor. A cardboard box toppled from the shelf with me. The glass pitcher inside hit the floor and shattered. A jagged shard of glass buried itself in my calf. Cold sweat broke out across my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath as I sat there on the floor, fighting the pain. "Mom!" I gritted my teeth and shouted. The kitchen was close to the stairs leading down to the storage room. If she'd been paying even the slightest attention, there was no way she could've missed the crash. "Mom! I fell! There's glass in my leg!" I shouted louder. Still, there was no response. I could even hear Mom talking to Brie in the living room, "Brie, why are you coughing again? Is the AC too cold?" "Mom, I'm fine. My throat's just dry." "That's not fine. Hearing you cough like that scares me to death. Lie down on the couch. I'll make you some chamomile tea." I looked at the blood running down my calf and understood. Mom's "condition" had flared up again. Intermittent hearing loss. That was what she always called it. Last winter, on one of the coldest days of the year, I'd accidentally left my keys at school. It was fourteen degrees outside, and I stood at the front door knocking for two full hours until my hands went numb from the cold. Mom didn't finally open the door until the middle of the night, yawning as she did. I stood there with my lips blue from the cold. All she said was that her intermittent hearing loss had flared up again, so she hadn't heard me knocking. Later, Samuel told me the truth. Brie hadn't been able to sleep that night, so Mom had spent the entire evening in her room watching movies with her. I took a deep breath and pulled the shard of glass from my calf myself. Blood poured even faster from the wound. I tore a strip of fabric from my clothes and tied it tightly around my leg. Using the wall for support, I limped up the stairs one painful step at a time. By the time I appeared in the living room, I was covered in dust, with blood staining my pant leg. Mom emerged from the kitchen carrying an elegant cup of chamomile tea. When she saw me, her brows drew together slightly. "How do you make such a mess of yourself just getting one thing?" She didn't ask what had happened or how badly I was hurt. There was nothing in her voice but mild irritation. "My ears started ringing again, so I didn't hear anything downstairs. Did you bring up the humidifier?" I looked at the chamomile tea in her hands, then calmly lowered my gaze. "The stool broke. I couldn't reach it." Brie walked over, covering her mouth in alarm. "Corinne, you're bleeding so much... Do you need to go to the hospital?" "I'm fine." I stepped around her outstretched hand and headed for my room. Once inside, I cleaned the wound with antiseptic and wrapped my calf in gauze. Then I opened a drawer and took out every thoughtless gift my family had given me over the years: shoes two sizes too small, an old scarf covered in pills, dresses that would only ever fit Brie's figure... I didn't keep a single thing. I stuffed all of it into a large garbage bag. Chapter 4 At seven thirty the next evening, the house was packed with people. Mom and Dad had invited some close relatives and family friends over to celebrate Brie's college graduation and her new car. I'd already packed the last of my things in my room. Dad knocked twice on my door, his voice cold. "Corinne, come out and prepare the dessert. Look how good Brie is, spending time with everyone. Stop hiding in your room all the time." I checked my watch. Thirty minutes until eight. I opened the door, went to the kitchen, and picked up a fruit knife. One of my cousins, Vanessa Lewis, was sitting on the couch, scrolling through the news on her phone. "The world is terrifying these days. Look at this. The police just busted a child trafficking ring." She shook her head. "Apparently, to keep the kids under control, the traffickers would force the older ones to lure younger children in for them. It's sick." The living room went quiet for a moment. Brie sighed, her gaze drifting toward me. "I've always felt so sorry for Corinne. She was with those people for five years... She must've gone through things the rest of us can't even imagine." She paused before continuing, "I've heard that some kidnapped kids are forced to help the traffickers just to survive... Of course, Corinne was so young back then. Even if she did do something bad, you can't really blame her..." She let the sentence trail off. But the way everyone looked at me changed instantly. Curiosity. Disgust. Even a hint of wary suspicion. The strip of apple peel in my hand snapped and fell into the trash. I stood and walked over to Brie. "Where did you hear the rumor that I helped the traffickers?" Brie shrank behind Samuel. "Corinne, I was just trying to explain things to everyone..." "Explain that I helped abduct children? The police report says I tried to escape with two other kids they were holding. The traffickers caught us and broke two of my ribs. So this thing you 'heard'—are you willing to be held responsible for spreading a lie like that?" Brie's shoulders trembled, and she began to cry. "Corinne, I'm sorry. I remembered it wrong. You don't have to yell at me in front of everyone." Dad slammed his cup onto the table. "What kind of attitude is that? Brie heard a couple of rumors and was trying to defend you. Do you have to make everyone uncomfortable just to prove a point?" Samuel stepped in front of Brie protectively. "Corinne, we have a house full of guests, and you're really going to make Brie cry? We've never held those five questionable years of your life against you. Isn't that enough? Stop pushing it!" Suddenly, the room went silent. Every whisper died. I looked past him at Mom on the couch. She was gently wiping Brie's tears, completely unfazed by what Samuel had said. Then she gave me a cold glance. So that was what she thought too. Those five "questionable" years. Outside, the sun blazed and heat shimmered in the air, but inside, I felt frozen. The darkest years of my life, when I'd fought desperately to survive, were nothing more than an ugly stain on my past in the eyes of my own blood relatives. The fragile family bond I'd spent fourteen years painstakingly piecing together shattered completely in that moment. The alarm on my phone went off, pulling me from the cold that had settled inside me. It was time to leave for the train station. I didn't bother responding to them. I turned, went back to my room, and rolled out the suitcase I'd packed hours ago. At the sound of the wheels, the relatives in the living room stared at me in surprise. But my family was still focused on Brie and her tears. Mom dabbed at Brie's face with a tissue. Dad murmured reassurances that she hadn't done anything wrong. Samuel glanced at my suitcase, his frown deepening. "Corinne, aren't you a little old to be running away from home? We said a few things you didn't like, and now you're going to threaten the whole family with this?" Mom looked up, her face full of irritation. "Let her go! If she walks out that door, she'd better never come back!" Dad didn't even turn around. He just kept patting Brie's back. Not one of them cared enough to ask where I was going. I opened the front door. A wave of heat rushed inside. Behind me, Mom was still soothing Brie. "Don't cry. Once she's had enough of struggling on her own, she'll come crawling back and apologize." I didn't respond. I let go of the door. It slammed shut behind me. For fourteen years, I'd been knocking on that door, desperate for them to let me in. Tonight, I finally stopped knocking.