Chapter 1 - The Shadow in the Corner
The gravel crunched beneath the tires of Clarissa’s car,
sending a spray of dust into the afternoon air.
She had driven three hours in the sweltering heat,
dreaming of the look on Dustin’s face when he saw her.
She imagined his laughter,
his small arms wrapping around her neck,
and the smell of his sun-warmed hair.
The country house stood tall and white against the green hills,
a sanctuary she had bought with her own hard-earned money.
She adjusted the heavy grocery bags on her shoulders,
careful not to crush the fresh strawberries she had picked.
As she stepped onto the porch,
the silence of the house felt strange,
almost heavy.
She pushed the front door open with her shoulder,
expecting to hear the television or the sounds of boys playing.
Instead,
the air was filled with the savory,
greasy scent of fried chicken.
Laughter drifted from the kitchen,
the shrill,
mocking tone of her sister-in-law,
Ellie.
Clarissa moved quietly,
not out of malice,
but because she wanted the surprise to be perfect.
But as she neared the dining room,
the first words she heard stopped her cold.
"Children who aren't really family need to learn their place,"
Alana’s voice was sharp,
like a knife cutting through silk.
Clarissa froze,
her heart beginning to hammer against her ribs.
She peeked around the corner,
and the scene before her felt like a physical blow.
At the grand oak table,
Alana and Ellie were feastng.
Gold-brown chicken,
steaming rolls,
and bowls of creamy mashed potatoes covered the surface.
Ellie’s son,
Mason,
was stuffing his face,
his fingers dripping with honey-butter.
But in the far corner of the room,
away from the light of the window,
sat Dustin.
He was perched on a stool that was too small for him,
his eyes fixed on the floor.
On his lap was a chipped plastic plate.
It held a single,
naked,
cold boiled potato.
Clarissa felt the blood drain from her extremities,
leaving her fingers numb and cold.
The grocery bags felt like lead weights,
the plastic handles digging into her skin.
Dustin didn't look up,
not even when Ellie let out a loud,
boisterous laugh.
"He looks like a little beggar,"
Ellie remarked,
wiping grease from her chin with a napkin.
"It’s better this way,"
Alana replied,
taking a large bite of a drumstick.
"He needs to understand that he is a guest in this family,"
"not a member."
Clarissa stepped into the light,
her shadow stretching long across the floor.
The bags hit the ground with a dull thud,
the fruit rolling across the hardwood.
The silence that followed was absolute,
broken only by the sound of Mason’s chewing.
Dustin’s head snapped up,
and the look in his eyes wasn't joy.
It was shame.
He quickly moved his plate behind his back,
trying to hide the evidence of his humiliation.
Clarissa didn't speak,
because if she had,
she feared she would scream until her lungs burst.
She walked toward her son,
ignoring the gasps of the two women.
She reached out,
her hand trembling,
and took the plate from him.
The potato was hard,
grey,
and smelled of the refrigerator.
"Mom,"
Dustin whispered,
his voice cracking.
"I'm sorry."
Clarissa looked at him,
at his hollow cheeks and the sadness in his eyes.
"You have nothing to be sorry for,"
she said,
her voice a low,
May you like
dangerous rumble.
"Nothing at all."
