Chapter 1: The Cold Pavement
The front door slammed with enough force to rattle the windows.
A second later came the sharp metallic click of the deadbolt—a small sound that landed like a gunshot.
Avery stood frozen on the porch.
The black trash bag hanging from her hand felt heavier than it should have. Inside were three pairs of faded jeans, a handful of oversized sweaters, a toothbrush, and one framed photograph of her grandmother—the only person who had ever made her feel safe.
For a long moment, she couldn't move.
She stared at the weathered oak door, silently waiting for it to open again.
It never did.
The quiet suburban street stretched around her as if nothing extraordinary had happened. Sprinklers hissed across perfectly trimmed lawns. Somewhere down the block, children laughed while riding bicycles. A dog barked behind a white picket fence.
The world had already moved on.
Avery looked back one last time.
Through the narrow strip of decorative glass beside the front door, she caught the outline of her older brother.
Leo.
He was leaning casually against the hallway wall, laptop still tucked beneath one arm. Even through the distorted glass, she recognized that smile.
That same smug smile he'd worn every time one of his lies had been believed.
Six months.
It had taken him six months to convince their parents she was selfish... dishonest... ungrateful.
Six months of whispered accusations.
Six months of carefully planted evidence.
Six months of watching them choose him over her.
And now he had finally won.
"Where am I supposed to go?"
The question echoed through her mind, mocking her.
No answer came.
The afternoon sky was fading into bruised shades of purple as autumn wind swept through the neighborhood. It sliced through the thin pink sweater she hadn't bothered replacing in years.
She wrapped her arms around herself, but the cold wasn't coming from outside anymore.
Forty-two dollars.
That was everything left in her checking account.
No apartment.
No relatives willing to take her in.
No friends whose parents wouldn't call hers the moment she showed up.
Just forty-two dollars... and nowhere that felt like home.
A tear slipped down her cheek before she angrily brushed it away with her sleeve.
No.
She refused to let Leo have the satisfaction of imagining her standing here crying.
Taking a slow breath, Avery adjusted the worn backpack on her shoulders, tightened her grip around the trash bag, and stepped off the porch.
She didn't look back again.
May you like
Home had already decided it didn't want her.
So she'd have to build another one.
