I honestly didn’t want to move to Laramie. It’s too close to home. I wanted to go far away from Ralingford and my home, across the country, across the planet. The University of Wyoming was the only place I could afford the tuition, though, without my parents’ help. If I’d been valedictorian, I might have been offered more scholarships, but I ruined that chance the night I snuck out of my house. The scar on my back took time to heal and kept me out of school for a while, causing me to fall behind. I don’t care, though. If I hadn't snuck out, I would have never discovered the truth, and I’d still be naively living in Ralingford.

“You should be more grateful.” My mother restlessly taps her shoe on the tiled floor. “But no, you have to pay us back for the life we’ve given you by moving out of the house and into this repulsive place.”

Sometimes, I feel sorry for her. More than likely, my father will punish her for driving me here. Unlike my father, my mother has a drop of humanity left in her.

“I am grateful,” I lie through my teeth. “But I also need to learn to start taking care of myself and get the education I want.” I sit down on a stack of boxes. “And this apartment you call repulsive is the main reason I worked at the pharmacy for the last two years. It works for me.”

Shaking her head, she joins me in the living room. The curtains are open and sunlight glitters in the room, highlighting her hardened features.

“I still can’t believe you played me like that and used the job I so generously gave you to save up money to ruin your life as well as your father’s and mine.”

“I didn’t play you, just like I didn’t ruin your lives or mine.”

“You really think that?” She pats my cheek with disdain in her eyes. “Just wait and see, Emery. You’ve lived a very sheltered life. You’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Good,” I dare say, leaning away from her touch. “That was part of the reason I moved out.”

Her surgery-enhanced lips thin as she frowns. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you over the last couple of weeks, but this little backtalk habit you’ve developed needs to stop now.”

I don’t know what my problem is, either. Maybe it’s the taste of freedom in the air, but I feel different, lighter, as if I can finally breathe for the first time. No more obeying my parents’ rules all the time. No more scheduling with my parents when I want to leave the house. No more falling asleep to the crying and screaming I heard every night. No more getting told when and how I need to go to bed.

“Sorry,” I utter an apology. When she raises her brows, I add, “Ma’am.”

“Good girl.” She pats my head. “And just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean when this all falls apart I won’t be there to pick up the mess. You’ll be welcomed at home again, at least by me. You’ll have to work extra hard to get on your father’s good side. You know how he is, and don’t be surprised if he shows up here to drag you home.”

Of course I know how he is: unforgiving, violent, controlling, perhaps a bit crazy. It all really depends on what exactly causes those screams in the basement. I once tried to go peek, but to no avail.

“I’m eighteen-years-old, Mother. He can’t just drag me home against my will.”

“You really believe that?” she asks condescendingly. When I don’t say anything, she grins, like my silence is me agreeing with her. She taps her finger to her cheek. “Now give me a kiss so I can get home before I miss curfew.”

I press a kiss to her cheek and bid her farewell, but instead of heading to the doorway, she starts down the hallway. When she reaches the middle of it, she retrieves a hammer, a nail, and a small wooden circle from her purse. In the center of the wooden circle is a pattern of angled shapes that curve around. The same shapes cover the walls of our living room. I once asked my mother what exactly they represent, and she’d slapped me and told me never to ask such questions again.

“Keep this up to remind you of our home,” she says as she pounds the nail into the wall, securing the circle in position. “To help you never forget who you are, to follow the rules and behave properly, and that your father and I will always keep an eye on you, no matter where you are.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I smash my lips together as she drops the hammer back into her purse.

I desperately want to march up to the circle and yank it down, right in front of her, but I’m too afraid of what she might do to me. Tantrums aren’t allowed with the Iverysons; otherwise, I’ll be punished. And punishments with the Iverysons aren’t normal forms of punishment. Never physically of course—that would ruin appearances. Mentally—always mentally.

“Remember what we’ve taught you.” She unfastens a silver bracelet from her wrist. “Families stick together, no matter what. We’re bonded for life, even when one moves away.” She grabs my arm with her free hand and links the bracelet around my wrist. The clamp is a silver butterfly that sparkles when it catches in the sunlight. “You won’t take that off. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She releases my wrist and hands me two bottles of pills she fishes out of her bag. “And don’t forget to take your pills. One pink one every day, and the reds are for the bad days, when you can’t breathe and you know you’ve messed up and need to make amends. I’ll be checking up on you to make sure you’re taking them. When you run out, you’re going to have to call me to refill the prescription. A normal pharmacy won’t do it for you.” When I remain silent, she adds, “Emery, this is important. If you don’t take your pills, you will end up suffering for your sins. Got it?”