The day I returned home, the rain was pouring. My brother, Mitchell Bishop, didn’t come to pick me up. 

“Maggie’s not feeling well. You’ll have to get home yourself.” 

His voice over the phone was cold and detached, devoid of any warmth. 

I quietly packed my things and set out for home. 

It had only been a year since I was sent away to boarding schooll, yet somehow, I had forgotten how to get back. 

The day Mitchell drove me to that place, the journey felt so short—so short, I didn’t have time to explain to him that I didn’t push Maggie Andrews down the stairs. 

So short, I couldn’t calm Mitchell’s fury before he shoved me into that dark, suffocating prison. 

But now, after walking in the rain for what felt like forever, soaked to the bone, I still couldn’t find my way home. 

Maybe, I no longer had a home. 

Our parents had passed away when we were young, leaving Mitchell and me to rely on each other. 

But now, Mitchell had chosen Maggie over me. 

For more than a year, he didn’t visit me once. 

Once, when I fell gravely ill, all I wanted was to go home. I desperately missed Mitchell. 

But when I called him, he didn’t even let me finish my sentence before cutting me off. 

“Don’t be such a crybaby.” 

Mitchell abandoned me. I had no home to return to.