Chapter 153
Blake
The ride back to my mother's apartment was tense and silent. My stomach was in knots, and I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing nervously. Mia stared out the window, her jaw set in defiance while occasionally shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
Mom sat beside her, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Blake reached over and squeezed my hand, his presence a silent reassurance that I wasn't facing this goddamn nightmare alone.
When we arrived at the small apartment building, I took a deep breath, feeling like I might throw up. This is the past I've been running from for years. "We need to get some of your things," I told them, trying to keep my voice steady. "I've booked rooms at a hotel where you'll be safe until we figure things out."
My mother looked up at the building, her expression a mixture of relief and reluctance. "This is my home, Sophia. The only thing I have."
Fuck. How do I explain that this dump is exactly what I've been fighting to escape my entire life? I bit my tongue and nodded, following them inside.
As Mom began to slowly gather some belongings, Mia turned to her. "I'm sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have gone there. I just..." her voice trailed off.
Mom's face softened as she pulled Mia into a hug. "I forgave you the moment I knew you were safe."
My chest tightened painfully, and I had to look away. Where the hell was that forgiveness when I was growing up? I felt a strange hollowness watching them, a gnawing emptiness that made me want to scream.
Mom had never embraced me that way, never offered that kind of unconditional forgiveness. Our relationship had always been strained, filled with unspoken resentments and disappointments that clung to me like a second skin.
While Mom continued packing in her bedroom, Mia flopped onto the couch, arms crossed defensively.
"So what's the plan now?" she asked with a sneer. "Pack us up, drop us at some hotel, then go back to your perfect life?"
"My life isn't perfect, Mia," I said, keeping my voice level despite the rising irritation burning in my throat. You have no fucking idea what I've been through.
"I don't plan on going to college," she declared suddenly. "So don't think you can save me with your rich-person charity."
"Education is important—" I began, but she cut me off.
"Says the enemy," she snapped. "You're one of them now. The people with enough money to make sure nobody goes hungry."
Her words stung more than they should have. My cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and anger. Is that all she sees when she looks at me? Some privileged bitch who forgot where she came from?
"Is that what you want? Money? I can help you and Mom financially, but—"
"We don't need your money," Mia interrupted, though her eyes betrayed her. "Just give us what you think we're worth and then you can disappear from our lives again."
That's such bullshit. I wanted to scream at her, tell her how hard I'd worked, how much I'd sacrificed. Instead, I dug my fingernails into my palms, trying to stay calm.
"Mia!" My mother's voice cracked like a whip from the doorway. "That's enough. Don't be rude to your sister. Sophia's life hasn't been easy either. You don't know what she's been through, so don't judge her."
Mia rolled her eyes but fell silent. My mother's defense surprised me—it was more protection than she had offered during my entire childhood. Where the fuck was this backbone when Dad was using me as a punching bag?
While Mia retreated to her room to pack, I found myself alone with my mother in the small kitchen.
"Why are you so attached to this place?" I asked quietly, running my finger along a crack in the wall. "It's falling apart."
She ran her fingers along the chipped countertop. "Because I was afraid to leave," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "After what happened with Soren... I was terrified of change."
"He wasn't always violent, you know," she continued, not meeting my eyes. "When we first met, he was charming, attentive. But after the financial crisis, when he lost his job... the drinking started. Then the violence."
I leaned against the refrigerator, arms crossed protectively over my chest, my heart hammering. Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry now.
"Why didn't you leave him? Take us somewhere safe?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to keep it steady.
Her eyes filled with tears. "He made me economically dependent on him. I couldn't leave with you because I had nowhere to go, no savings." She swallowed hard. "And he threatened that if I left, he would find you and do to you what he did to me."
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. All these years, I'd resented her for not protecting me, for choosing him over my safety. But she had been protecting me in the only way she knew how. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
"You were sacrificing yourself," I whispered, my voice breaking.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face now. "I thought if I took the worst of it, he would leave you alone."
Something shattered inside me. The wall I'd built between us for so many years crumbled in an instant. I crossed the small kitchen in two steps and wrapped my arms around her. She stiffened momentarily, then melted into the embrace, her thin shoulders shaking with sobs. For the first time in my adult life, I truly held my mother, feeling the weight of everything she had endured.
"I'm sorry," I whispered into her hair, my own tears falling freely now. "I'm so damn sorry I didn't understand."
Blake stood in the doorway, his expression pained, his fists clenched at his sides. I could see the barely contained rage in his eyes—not directed at us, but at the man who had caused so much suffering.
"I have trouble remembering things sometimes," my mother confessed as we pulled apart. "The doctors say it's from years of stress and..." she trailed off, not needing to complete the thought.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling raw and exposed. "I should check on Mia," I said, needing a moment to pull myself together.
"Be patient with her," Mom said. "She's angry at the world, not just you."
In Mia's room, posters of bands I didn't recognize covered peeling wallpaper. She was stuffing clothes into a backpack with unnecessary force.
"I can help you with that," I offered, my voice still thick with emotion.
She paused, not looking up. "Why are you doing this? You barely know us."
"Because you're my sister," I said simply. "And because I understand what it's like to feel trapped." To feel like the world is nothing but walls closing in on you, to have your choices ripped away.
She didn't respond, but her movements became less aggressive. It was a start.
An hour later, we checked into the hotel I'd chosen—comfortable but not ostentatious enough to make Mom and Mia uncomfortable. As Mom explored the room with wonder, touching the plush towels and testing the softness of the bed, Blake pulled me into the hallway.
"There's something I need to discuss at our next therapy session," he said, his voice low. "And I might need to handle some company business soon."
My stomach clenched. What isn't he telling me? I searched his face, trying to read what was behind his words. "Is everything okay?"
"There are some things I need to deal with personally," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "If you need me, I'll come back immediately. Just one phone call."
I nodded, still uncertain, a knot of anxiety forming in my chest. After everything we've been through, he's still keeping secrets. "I want to stay here at least a week. I need to convince Mom to let go of that apartment, and maybe talk Mia into college."
Blake touched my cheek gently. "You can't force people to make decisions, Sophie. Everyone has the right to choose their own path. Just like you did."
His words held no judgment, only understanding. I leaned into his touch, grateful for his presence and the space he was giving me to reconnect with the broken pieces of my past.