My mother shook her head. “You are ruining us.”
“You ruined yourselves when you exploited me,” I said quietly. “Family does not drain you. Family does not demand sacrifices and then spit in your face. Family does not celebrate your suffering.”
Trevor stepped forward. “Where are we supposed to go?”
“That sounds like your problem,” I replied.
I shut the door. The click echoed like a verdict.
For the first time in years, my chest did not feel tight. The air did not feel heavy. I sat on my couch with sunlight warming my skin, and I realized I had mistaken self-sacrifice for love.
I finally chose myself.
