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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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"No, I won't!" I shouted.

"Apologize!" my stepmother barked, slapping me hard across the face.

Pain exploded, but I stood my ground. "Why should I? I did nothing wrong. She did," I said, pointing at Ava, my stepsister.

Her eyes darkened with fury. "Since you refuse to accept your mistake, you won't eat anything in this house for the next three days."

"But Mom....."

"I am not your mother!" she cut me off sharply. "Your mother is dead. She's been dead for a long time."

That was it.

The tears I had been holding back spilled freely, sliding down my cheeks. What had I done to deserve this kind of life? What crime had I committed to be treated like I didn't belong?

I looked up and met Ava's eyes. She was smiling,slow, cruel, and satisfied. This was exactly what she wanted.

I said nothing.

I knew better than to argue. Her words were final. My father wouldn't defend me,he never did. Instead, he would accuse me of always looking for trouble with his precious younger daughter.

So I stayed silent, swallowing my pain, as I always did.

******

Author's Pov

She cried as she walked into her small room and locked the door behind her. Sliding down against it, Skyle buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as the sobs finally broke free. This room was the only place she could call hers,small, plain, but safe from their eyes.

Moments later, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen and saw Clara.

Taking a shaky breath, Skyle answered. "Hello?"

Clara's voice came through immediately, warm and familiar. "Hey, Sky. I was just checking up on you. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Skyle replied quickly.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Clara spoke again. "No, you're not. I can hear it in your voice." She sighed softly. "I've known you since we were kids. Something is wrong."

That was all it took.

The dam broke.

Skyle told her everything,how she had been in the kitchen that morning, quietly making tea because her stomach ached from hunger. How Ava had walked in, snatched the cup from her hands, and poured the hot tea over herself. They had argued briefly before Ava began crying loudly, tearing her own dress to make it look worse.

"She did it on purpose," Skyle whispered. "She wanted trouble."

She explained how her stepmother rushed in and, without asking for any explanation, immediately believed Ava. How she had been ordered to apologize for something she hadn't done. How the slap came next. And then the words,cruel and unforgivable,about her mother being dead and her punishment of not eating for three days.

By the time she finished, Skyle's voice was barely audible.

"Oh, Skyle..." Clara said gently. "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve any of this."

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