"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?''
The butterfly clings to the inside of the jar, its fragile wings fluttering with silent desperation. It's delicate. Precious. And so heartbreakingly alone. Beautiful—but not free.
Just like me.
Then, the sound of raised voices slices through the stillness. Harsh andHeated. I jolt, clutching the jar for a second before carefully tucking it behind the row of porcelain dolls.
My heart taps a nervous rhythm against my ribs.
I crack the door open and peer into the hallway. The argument is coming from downstairs—the living room. Uncle Ethan's voice, sharp and firm. Aunt Serena's, tight and strained.
I know I shouldn't listen. I know it's wrong.
But curiosity slips past caution.
On bare feet, I creep out of my room and descend the stairs, one careful step at a time, stopping midway. From this spot, I can hear them clearly—see just the edge of the room where shadows flicker against the walls.
I hold my breath and listen.
"You promised, Ethan. No cameras. No locked doors"
"She was sneaking around, Serena. I saw her coming from our room. That's not normal."
"I..i think this is misunderstanding Ethan,we are supposed to have a nice dinner" she snaps at him.
"She's unstable, you are not listening to me, She barely talks. She's always wandering—"
"She has been through a lot,Ethan.''She says carefully.
"That girl is up to something,I can feel it,there is this pressure and constant negative energy coming from these god damn walls,maybe just let her go and socialize" he says coldly.
She pauses,then says.
"I don't wanna lose her too.I know its a little much for her but I just wanted to protect her,"
" If anything happens again—if she finds out—this all comes crashing down. You said it yourself, she can't handle the truth." he says slowly.
She takes a harsh breath.her voice drops to whisper barely audible
"What about you, Ethan? Can you?"
I hear something hit the floor. A clatter. A shaky inhale. Then silence.
I step away from the railing,
My heart pounding.
What the actual fuck is going on?
What do they mean?
What are they hiding?
A thousand questions flood my mind, crashing into each other like waves in a storm. Panic curls around my chest, making it harder to breathe—each inhale feels tighter, shallower. Then, suddenly, the front door slams shut like a gunshot.
I flinch.
From the window, I watch as the Mercedes pulls out of the driveway and disappears down the street.
Then I hear it—soft, broken sobs echoing from the living room.
Aunt Serena.
My chest tightens for a different reason now—guilt, maybe. I shouldn't have listened, but I did. And now I know too much… or maybe not enough.
What is wrong with Uncle Ethan?
I don't want Aunt Serena to know I heard—every single word. So I retreat, as quietly as I came, slipping back into my room like a shadow.
Next day.In the afternoon, once I'm certain Aunt Serena has gone down for her nap, I slip out the back door and rush into the garden,thankgod Montricia is not following me right now. The sun filters through the trees, dappled light dancing across the stone path. To my surprise, Cade is already there—standing just outside the iron fence.
He didn't bring his cart today.
I walk up to him, heart thudding. I hold out the two dollars I took from Aunt Serena's purse. Do I feel guilty? Maybe. But not enough to stop me.
He eyes the money, then shakes his head.
"What?" I blurt out.
He smirks. "What about a 'hi, how are you?'"
I frown, and he chuckles, eventually pocketing the money anyway.
He runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, suddenly looking away. Is he... awkward?
"I heard about your mom," he says softly.
I stiffen. Of course he did. Everyone has.
"I mean—I didn't know she was your mom. I'm sorry."
I say nothing.
A pause. Then he asks, quietly, "Are you okay?"
"No," I whisper.The scene from last night floods in my mind and everything that happened."IM NOT OKAY!"
And then the truth comes spilling out in that single word, and suddenly, my eyes burn. I haven't cried in so long. But now I tell him everything—the argument I overheard, how uncle ethan's rules control every part of my life, the way the house feels like a prison dressed in expensive wallpaper.
I don't know why I told him, but I do even with the guilt of letting a guy I know about this whom I barely know but I just want to talk to someone.
Maybe because I needed to. Maybe because he's the only person who's ever truly looked at me.
Cade listens, every second, without interrupting.
Then he says, voice sharp and eyes wide, "You gotta get out of that house."
I blink at him, tears on my cheeks. "Pardon?"
"I'm serious, Odessa. You have to. This is insane. Sure, they took you in—great. But that doesn't mean they get to dictate your every move like you're some puppet. You're a person. You deserve your own life."
I open my mouth, but no words come. He's right. Every word cuts through the fog in my head. But...
"Where would I go?"
"Yeah... right," he mutters, looking off into the distance, thinking. "But they're hiding something. You know it. Something they're desperate for you not to find."
I breathe in. Slow. "Then I better find it."
He raises an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"
"I'll find a way."
Cade gives me a crooked, serious smile. "Well, I'm here to help."
I nod,we kept sitting in the grass for I cannot recall how long ,me on the one side of the fence and him on the other, then he turns and disappears down the street.
I sit still for a moment, staring at the house that looms behind me. So beautiful from the outside. So cold on the inside.
I won't let it trap me forever.