Witching The Wild One

The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming

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My phone buzzed for the fourth time during my microeconomics lecture. Hospital. Again.

I slipped out of the back row, ignoring the professor's disapproving look. In the hallway, I answered with shaking hands.

"Maya Collins?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Patterson. I need you to come to the hospital immediately. Your mother's condition has taken a serious turn."

The world tilted. "How serious?"

"We need to discuss treatment options in person. How quickly can you get here?"

"I'm on my way."

I ran across campus to my dorm, my heart hammering against my ribs. Zoe was getting ready for her afternoon class when I burst through the door.

"I need to borrow your car," I said, grabbing my purse and keys to our room.

"Maya, what's wrong? You look"

"Mom's in the hospital. I have to go. Now."

Zoe tossed me her keys without hesitation. "Call me."

The drive to Hartford General took thirty minutes that felt like hours. I found Dr. Patterson in the oncology wing, his expression grave.

"Maya, sit down."

"Just tell me."

He pulled out a file. "The latest scans show significant progression. Your mother has maybe six months. There is one option an experimental treatment program, but..."

"But what?"

"The cost is two hundred thousand dollars. Insurance won't cover experimental procedures."

Two hundred thousand dollars. I stared at him, the number echoing in my head. I made maybe fifteen thousand a year between my tutoring and restaurant jobs, sending most of it home for bills and Jake's school expenses.

"There has to be something else. A payment plan, charity programs""

"I've already checked everything, Maya. I'm sorry."

I drove back to campus in a daze. Two hundred thousand dollars to save my mother's life. Impossible. But I had to try something.

That evening, I sat at my desk researching everything I could find. Emergency loans, fundraising ideas, selling everything we owned. Nothing came close to the amount we needed.

"You missed dinner again," Zoe said, returning from the dining hall with a container of food. "And you look like you're planning to tunnel through the earth with your bare hands."

"Two hundred thousand," I said without looking up from my laptop.

"What?"

"That's how much it costs to save my mom's life. Two hundred thousand dollars."

Zoe set down the food and sat on her bed, studying my face. "Maya..."

"Don't. Don't tell me it's impossible. I know it's impossible. But I have to try something."

"Okay. What's the plan?"

I laughed bitterly. "I don't have one. Work more hours? I'm already working every minute I'm not in class. Take out loans? I've been rejected by everyone. Sell my organs?"

"There's got to be another way."

"Like what? Rob a bank? Marry rich?" I slammed my laptop shut. "I'm out of options, Zoe."

Zoe was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You know what you need?"

"A miracle?"

"A break. One night where you're not Maya Collins, responsible daughter and sister. Just Maya."

"I don't have time for breaks."

"You don't have time not to take one. You're going to burn out completely, and then what happens to your family?" Zoe pulled out her phone. "There's this party tomorrow night at the Grandview Hotel. Some trust fund kids are hosting it."

"I can't afford hotel parties."

"You don't need money. Just show up and exist for three hours. Talk to people who don't need help with homework. Drink expensive wine someone else is paying for. Remember what it feels like to be young."

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