I took a slow breath and rang the doorbell. My mother opened the door.
The moment she saw me, her eyes widened. “Summer… sweetheart… you’re back.”
She hugged me, but it felt forced. Her arms barely wrapped around me before she stepped back and looked me over.
“You’ve lost so much weight. You must have suffered terribly.” If I hadn’t heard the conversation only seconds earlier, I might have believed she meant it.
“I’m okay, Mom,” I replied quietly. “I came straight from the prison.”
Before she could answer, Sheila appeared carrying a large bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Without saying hello, she sprayed me from my shoulders down to my shoes.
The sharp smell instantly filled the hallway. “Don’t take it personally,” she said with a smile that never reached her eyes.
“I’m just getting rid of the prison smell.” Nobody stopped her. Austin stood against the wall, staring at the floor.
My father didn’t even bother looking away from the television. I swallowed my pride.
“I’ll just put my things in my room.” No one answered. I walked down the hallway, opened my old bedroom door…
… and stopped cold. Everything was gone. My bed. My books. The family photos I had collected since childhood.
The sewing machine I bought with my very first paycheck. Even the small jewelry box my grandmother left me.
Nothing remained. Instead, the room was filled with unopened diaper boxes, baby clothes, a stroller, and broken furniture stacked against the wall.
I slowly turned back toward my mother. “What happened?” She lowered her eyes.
“It’s been two years, sweetheart. The house is small. Sheila needed the space for the baby.”
“And my things?” Before she could answer, my father crushed his cigarette into an ashtray.
“We got rid of them.” I stared at him. “You… threw everything away?”
