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Left In The Fire: I Am Reborn

Chapter 3 

Word Count: 1660    |    Released on: Today at 09:51

ed my entire life into a

es Belinda had bought me

amond stud earrings Damian had g

ry pair of designer heels neatly folded

my Social Security card, my passport

and plain cotton shirts I h

as a senior financial analyst at a m

as modest, because I told them

$140,000, plus a generou

d into an independent credit union account

nt, I had sav

cape route, I had rented a furnished studio apartment a

the mansion still lay in dead silence, I

unk of the rideshare

e the bag straight t

mansion, I pulled a small black l

in black ink, I w

Danica Spencer

ook into the inner

ont door burst open am

escorted Jocelyn i

large shopping bags from the high-en

nk cashmere cardigan a

of health-not a trace

or, and she was giggling a

nounced brightly, tossing her ha

e living room sofa, read

da said, coming toward me, triumphant. "He said Jocelyn's recover

aper and set it on

derful,"

rm, polite-and

glasses and gave me a lo

finger?" she said, reach

flat on my knees

ing stoppe

elvet jewelry box

a vintage gold chain with a

if a stone of ice had

that pendan

vere pneumonia and fought for my life

ns to an old temple and obtained that jade pe

she fastened it around m

a guardian charm to

ago, Belinda told me the pendant h

lding that pendant up

said, fastening the gold clasp behind Jocelyn's neck. "This jade has been in our family

green stone with her imma

Mommy," Jocelyn c

eaming from the b

and kissed Jo

od for our little

pendant resting on

up from somewher

shivering under the rough, cold hospital sheets, th

hand, whispering that I w

ied three years b

mily who ever truly loved me-and n

ng around the neck of the

mself from the lit

o the sofa and s

searching for the faintest

reaction, masking that cowardice flawlessly

today," Damian whispered. "

at Dami

y trimmed stubble; the shrewd calculation

lmly. "I was thinki

d closer. "W

one gets exactly what

short laugh, v

s afternoon, we'll go out to an early dinner. First we'll celebrate

ou say, Dam

my arm, smug

est until two. You need a cal

ight,"

idor to my little bedroom

tched the wall clock, the second hand

Tick

rek knocked

go. Damian's pull

he door. "

ans's clinic in Da

nd Derek

to rest under a pr

ans's treatment room, the a

k, holding a stack of neuropsy

, with dark shado

t Belinda. He did

came stra

minary assessment. If we proceed with the high-intensity cognitive intervention today, there is a ninety-eight

d forward, nar

plainly. What d

member the family arguments, the hospital ordeals, or any of the entanglements between the people in this house. Her brain wil

nce fell ov

hung in the air, hea

their fin

maternal instinct left, she

of brotherly feeling, he wou

oke the

into his trouser p

better if Danica forgets the last five years. She won't be jealous of Jocelyn a

d at me for t

imperceptible-wavered i

er expression hardened into

clean slate is best for this fami

came to

stroked my hair wit

fraudulent voice. "You'll forget all the bad things. I'll make you

veled the cha

ith eyes full of

one-the final informed consent must be confirmed b

ital recorder from the desk and

e, his voice grave. "Regarding the cognitive blocking and memory s

ed at

g me with greed

ed at

ly up, waiting for me to b

ed at

o turn me into a docile,

and met Dr.

word with quiet, unshakable fir

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Left In The Fire: I Am Reborn
Left In The Fire: I Am Reborn
“Left with Nothing, I Am Reborn Five years ago, a car accident took away every memory I had of my family and my fiancé. They treated me. They encouraged me. And every time a memory came close to the surface, it vanished-until this time, when I told no one, and all of it came back. It turned out I had not been the only one in that crash. While I lay trapped in the flames, my fiancé peeled my fingers off him one by one. Simply because their adopted daughter had suffered a trivial fright, they abandoned me without hesitation and left me to be swallowed alive by the fire. To bury that filthy crime, they bribed doctors, again and again, to wash away my memories-molding me, stroke by stroke, into an obedient, hollow shell. For five whole years, I apologized like a criminal for being a "burden." At that moment, the last humble flicker of longing for family and love inside my chest died completely. So when they dragged me back to the clinic by force for one final memory wipe, I calmly met the psychologist's terrified gaze. "Begin. But leave the painful wounds untouched-what I want you to erase is every last scrap of love I hold for them. Not a shred of it may remain."”