Left to Rot, Held by Her Again

“Shut up—don’t you dare bring up my mother!”

Rose, tucked smugly beside Dad, laughed like she owned the room. Then she put on the sweetest face and cooed, “Dad, don’t be angry. Mom wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

That line hit him like a trigger. Ethan instantly calmed, as if she’d flipped a switch. After that, Rose moved into our house and settled in like she belonged there. I faded into the background like a ghost.

She took over my room. She took the childhood things my parents had given me. She got all the attention I’d been starving for—and she loved to provoke me.

When things went quiet and tense, Rose would smile and say, “Dad, my birthday is tomorrow. Make sure you get home early to celebrate, okay?”

Ethan’s whole face lit up. “Of course, my baby girl. How could I miss it? We’ll throw you a big party.”

Rose grinned that practiced grin. Then she added, faux-sweet, “If my sister wants to come, she’s welcome. We’re family, right, Dad?”

Ethan stroked Rose’s hair, all softness. “Rose can invite whoever she wants.”

I turned away, defeated, and slipped back into my cluttered little room. I fell asleep exhausted.

The next morning, I woke to noise—laughter, music, the kind of party sounds I’d been erased from for years. Rose’s birthday. I went out because it was easier than hiding. The living room was decorated like a dream. I couldn’t help it—I felt a sharp, jealous pang.

We went to the same school. Some of her guests were classmates. A few faces looked familiar. They saw me and, from Rose’s version of our family story, they’d already formed opinions. One girl didn’t bother to keep them to herself.

“Ava Harrington, you really are Rose’s sister?” she sneered. “How do you always manage to steal my spotlight, jinx?”

“I’m not a jinx!” I snapped, furious.

“Oh please. Your mom died because of you—you’re a curse!” she taunted, then shoved me. I shoved back. She laughed and, before I could react, bit my wrist hard.

People swarmed. The big cake wobbled and tilted. Somebody—God knows who—slashed at my side with something sharp. Pain exploded. Blood streamed everywhere.

By the time Dad got back, the family doctor was tending my wounds. The kids who had attacked me stood with their heads down, their parents gathered, hands wringing, pleading.

“Miss Harrington, we—our kids weren’t raised right. Please show mercy,” one parent begged. “My son doesn’t know better. I’ll accept any punishment.”

They all wanted to shield their kids. They loved them. I felt a flicker of something nasty and soft inside—jealousy. I wanted that too: a parent who would stand up, who would fight for me. Since Mom died, I’d been starving for it.

Ethan arrived like a storm. The room fell silent the moment he stepped in. The butler bowed. “Miss—” he began, but Ethan waved him off with a cold hand.

“Show me.” Ethan’s voice was low. He leaned in to look at the cut on my side, frowning like he cared. For a second, hope brightened me. Maybe he still loved me. Tears leaked out of my eyes before I could stop them.

“Dad,” I whispered, “they called me a—”

He cut me off with a bitter laugh that sounded like it came from somewhere empty. “They’re right. You are a jinx.”

The words stopped me from crying. My pain lodged in my throat. His voice felt like ice across my skin. I stared at him, unbelieving that he’d say such a thing in front of everyone.

Then he hauled me to my feet and pushed me forward like some exhibit. “Look,” he told the guests, his voice loud and furious. “This is the girl who caused her mother’s death—the curse that ruined our family.”

I couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. People looked at me with pity or disgust. I couldn’t speak. Why would he humiliate me like this? I’m his daughter. Didn’t the years of him calling me his “little treasure” mean anything? Why did he keep dragging Mom’s death back into my face? I’d lost my mother—how could he still blame me?

Just then, Henry Hale rushed in—my maternal grandfather. He stepped in front of me, blocking the stares. “Ethan Harrington!” he demanded. “Ava is your daughter. She’s an heir to the Harrington name on both sides. She does not deserve this.”

Even Grandpa came to stand up for me, saving me a little dignity. But Dad snorted and looked away like it meant nothing. “A heir?” he scoffed.

When the guests were shown out, Grandpa walked with me into the study. He confronted Ethan. “You can’t treat her like this. How can Fiona rest if you keep acting like this?”

Ethan’s jaw twitched. “Enough!” he barked, veins at his neck standing out. His eyes flashed like lightning and then clouded over. I curled into Grandpa’s arms, too scared to look at him.

Grandpa sighed and tried to steady me, eyes sad. “Ava, you’re part of this family. I can’t always interfere, but please—try to get along with your father. He’s not the same since Fiona… he’s more violent, volatile. Try to understand.”

I forced a small smile and nodded, but my heart felt empty. After Mom died, Dad grew into a man with power and money no one could push around. Even Grandpa didn’t dare change him. Our small defenses didn’t matter.

I picked up the small bottle of ointment the doctor had left and for a tiny second let myself imagine a different truth—maybe Dad still loved me, but couldn’t show it. Maybe he just didn’t know how.

Then Rose ruined the moment. That night, in the middle of the mess she’d made of her own party, she drifted over in a voluminous dress and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dad gave me this dress because I asked for it—don’t be mad, okay?”

That dress was one of Mom’s things. It had been a keepsake from when she was young—one of the few pieces of her left in the house.

⸻