I grabbed her sleeve with every scrap of strength I had left, desperate to make her see.
"No—I'm your—"
She slapped my hand away.
"What are you standing around for?" she snapped at Joel. "Get her inside!"
Joel clamped his hand over my mouth. "Get me a rope. She's going to fight."
My mother shoved him forward. "Forget the rope. That soup she drank this morning—I drugged it. She's got nothing left. Just hurry up." Her voice dropped, cold and final. "And don't come out until I tell you to."
I grabbed my mother's wrist, tears streaming down my face, shaking my head in desperate, wordless pleading.
She peeled my fingers off one by one.
"Irene, if you want to blame someone, blame your real mother. She's the one who brought this on you."
I watched, helpless, as my mother shut the door with a smile plastered across her face.
A hollow ache carved through my chest, winding around my organs like it meant to split them apart. I couldn't even form a single word of protest.
She threaded a long iron chain through the door handles and locked it. Every last shred of hope drained out of me.
Then Aunt Grace burst in with my cousin. "Vivian! What have you done with Irene?"