Chapter 4

"Rain!" My mother's voice turned shrill and furious. "What is wrong with you?!"

I wanted to say I didn't do it, but my mouth opened and the words caught in my throat once again.

All I could do was shake my head, shaking it frantically.

"You're still denying it?!" My mother turned pale with rage. "Lily has a heart condition! Don't you understand that pushing her could kill her?!"

Lily curled against my mother's chest, tears dripping steadily as she whined, "Mommy, don't be mad at Rain... She didn't mean it... She probably just doesn't like me..."

With every word out of Lily's mouth, my mother's expression grew more vicious.

Finally, supporting Lily with one arm, my mother pointed a trembling finger at me.

"You go straight home and think about what you've done! No dinner for you tonight!"

I stood frozen, watching them walk away.

The sales clerk stood awkwardly to the side, looking uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

Wiping away my tears, I clutched the shopping bag against my chest and walked out of the mall completely alone.

Outside, the sun beat down relentlessly. People bustled past on the sidewalk, everyone having somewhere to go, someone waiting for them.

I crouched down on the concrete steps by the mall entrance, clutching the bag with the white dress, sobbing until my entire body shook.

Strangers glanced at me as they walked by, but nobody stopped.

I wanted to scream that I truly hadn't pushed her.

Yet I knew that even if I found my voice, no one would believe me.

It had been the exact same in those cellars. When the man beat me, the woman never believed I was innocent.

She would always sneer, If you didn't provoke him, why would he hit you?

It was always the same.

It was always my fault.

People swarmed past the entrance. I hadn't been crouching on the steps for more than five minutes before a middle-aged woman approached me.

"Sweetie, why are you crying out here all by yourself? Did you get lost?"

She wore a floral blouse, carried a canvas tote bag, and wore an eager smile. She looked exactly like one of those friendly, helpful neighbors you see on the street.

I ignored her, burying my face into my knees.

After spending seven years around that broker ring, I had seen far too many faces disguised as "good people." The woman who first lured me away from my kindergarten playground had a smile even warmer and kinder than hers.

"Did you have a fight with your parents?" The woman knelt down, patting my shoulder gently. "How about I help you find your mommy?"

I flinched back, pulling my shoulder out of her reach.

Her eyes flashed with something dark for a split second, though her face quickly settled back into that warm, neighborly mask.

"Look at you, why are you so shy? I'm not a bad person."

Bad people never say they're bad people.

I had learned that harsh lesson in the home of my third buyer. She had been an old woman in her sixties, looking gentle and grandmotherly, who bought me solely to serve her mentally impaired adult son.

I survived three months in her house, waking up every night being choked and pinched by him.

Those three months taught me one absolute rule: the people who look the most harmless are often the most dangerous.

Clutching my bag, I scrambled to my feet, aiming to bypass her and run back inside the mall.

My mother and Lily were still in there. As long as I found them, I would be safe.

Yet, the moment I took a single step, a sharp, stinging pain flared at the back of my neck.

A syringe needle sank into my skin.

My legs instantly buckled. My vision blurred and warped, the mall's glass doors splitting into two, then three, swaying wildly before my eyes.

The woman caught me in a firm grip, calling out loudly to the surrounding crowd, "Oh, poor baby, you're burning up! Such a terrible fever! Come on, sweetie, let's get you to the doctor!"

Passing pedestrians glanced at us briefly, then went on about their day.

Nobody looked twice at a child being carried off by a stranger.

Just before darkness claimed me completely, I heard the woman pull out her phone, her tone casual and breezy, like chatting with an old friend. "Hey, it's done. I got the package you wanted. Great quality this time, so the price goes up."

My eyes fluttered shut.

The entrance to the mall vanished entirely into the dark.

Here it was again.

Taken for seven long years, barely brought back home, and in less than forty-eight hours, I was grabbed again.

I hadn't even had the chance to call that woman "Mom."