I might be headed to my parents’ house, but that will never be my home.
As far as I’m concerned, I haven't found my home yet, and I don't know if I ever will.
But I’ll fight like hell for it, and maybe one day,one day, it will all work out for me.
Please let it work out for me.
— MAD WOMAN BY TAYLOR SWIFT
I storm into myparents’ house, not bothering to knock because I know they’re home. Vince and I passed about fifteen different news vans on the way in. I know my parents, and they must be rolling over with all this attention on them. I don't think they fully thought this through—exposing my story to the public. After all, the reason they moved to this house in the first place was because my fame became too much for them, especially after Ralph was caught. I had more attention on me than ever, and now, it’s worse.
I hope they’re uncomfortable. I hope they’re afraid to leave their house while the story floats around. It’severywhere, which means that only another huge story can dethrone it. I hope they start to understand that this is what I feel like every time I leave my fucking house—mobbed, terrified, nervous, and like my privacy is always being invaded.
They deserve to feel a fraction of how I’ve felt because they did this to themselves when they airedmystory to the entire world.
I stand in the foyer after slamming the door open, knowing they’ll find me in a minute, and I feel Vince behind me as I hear the slow, calculated steps of my parents. When I see them both appear on the staircase in front of me, I hold their stares.
They look surprised to see me, as if they weren't expecting me to show up after they did what they did.
“Were you scared one of the reporters somehow made it in here?” I ask them, and before they can answer, I speak again. “That’s how I feel everytime I hear a door slam, or a loud noise, or whistling. For that fraction of a second, you felt what it was like to be me. It doesn't feel great, does it?”
“Bree, it’s lovely to see you,” my mom says, walking down a few more steps but not meeting me at the bottom.
“Vince,” is all my dad can seem to say.
All I hear is Vince grunt a response back, not wanting to say a single word to them.
“I’ve barely heard from you guys since you moved, and after Liv told you guys off, I considered you to be cut off from me, too.” I take a steadying breath before I continue. “So why, after all this time, are you choosing to keep using my name to get your fifteen seconds of fame? Why the fuck did you tellmystory to the world for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Is that how much I’m worth to you? If it is, as far as I’m concerned, you two don't deserve to have the title of parents.”
All I hear is my father sigh heavily before he rolls his eyes at me. “You seem angry, Bree.”Seriously?That’s all he has to say?
My mother’s heels click against the floor. “We got laid off a week ago, and we have yet to find jobs, so money has been tight. You must understand why we did it.”
“You expect me to hear you out after what you did? Not only did you tell a story that wasn't yours to tell, you gotpaidfor it. And you got to sit comfortably in those fancy interview chairs while you did it. You two told my story! You didn't live through it, and you fucking told it anyway! Where do you get off doing that?”
“We got laid off because of you! We lost our jobs because of our fucking last name! Your name is everywhere and very recognizable now that you’re with Alex. The partners got tired of reporters camping out in front of our offices and disrupting work hours,” my dad yells at me from the top of the stairs before he comes stomping down, his finger pointed right at me. “All of this is because of you, so don't blame anyone but yourself, Bree!”
Before I can snap back at him, Vince steps in front of me and grabs my father’s hand. “Lower your voice when you speak to her, and if you lay a finger on her, I’ll kill you.” My father only laughs as he keeps his finger pointed at me.
“Vince, it’s okay,” I say as I put my hand on his bicep. “Dad, I appreciate your misplaced anger, but none of this is on me. I didn't ask to get famous, I didn't ask to get assaulted, and I didn't ask to be fucking stalked.”
I step around Vince but keep him close since I want to leave here as soon as possible. I only have a bit left to say, and then I’m gone.
I’m fucking done. These two people in front of me are no longer my parents. They’re merely two people who conceived me, but Liv is the one who raised me. She’s always been all I’ve ever needed.
“If you needed jobs, that might’ve been easier before you went on a fucking talk show for the whole world. If you’re blaming me for this, then maybe you should take a long, hard look in the mirror, because I never asked to be born.”
“The only reason you exist is because your sister was a failure from the moment she stepped out of the womb. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her low potential,” my mother states, a cold bite to her words.
Tears fill my eyes as they talk about my sister like that. “Liv was only two or three when I was born! How the hell could you deem her a failure only a few years into her life?”
“She was slow to develop, but you…you were practically gifted from the time you were born. We always had high hopes for you, Bree, but you chose a different route over what we planned for you.”
I scoff at them, already knowing what they wished I would’ve become. “Law school, right? You wish I would’ve followed in your footsteps and become successful that way instead of this, right?”
The two of them nod their heads. “It’s too much now. We did what we had to.”
“That’s your excuse? You told the story of the worst night of my life to the entire world becauseyou had to?”