Chapter 3The Fault Line: Buried in the Rubble with My Sister

I sat by Mom's hospital bed, staring at her unconscious face.

This was the first time in my life I had ever been able to study her features without her glaring at me.

Growing up, she never looked me in the eye.

According to Grandma, Mom had desperately wanted a boy to carry on the family name.

When they found out I was a girl, she was furious. They didn't have the money for a third kid, so they just dumped me at my grandma's dilapidated trailer park in East Texas.

Grandma had no choice but to take me in so I wouldn't starve.

I was practically raised on cheap formula and handouts from the neighbors.

It wasn't until I was eight that Grandma forced my dad to bring me back to the city for school.

Savannah was two years older. When I started first grade, she was in third.

Because I had never been taught to read or write at Grandma's, I struggled massively.

I was always at the bottom of my class.

Mom resented my existence. Every day after school, I was treated like Cinderella.

Dishes, laundry, mopping the floors—it was all my responsibility.

My time to do homework was practically non-existent.

Even in middle school, my grades were garbage.

Meanwhile, Savannah was an honor roll student. My parents treated her like absolute royalty.

My birthday was a month after hers, but I never once got a cake.

I wasn't even allowed to eat a slice of Savannah's cake, because Mom said my "bad luck" would rub off on her golden child.

But now? Savannah’s legs were gone, and her face had been severely lacerated by a jagged piece of rebar.

Would they still love her?

I watched Mom’s eyelids flutter open.

She stared at the ceiling, disoriented, before letting out a massive breath.

I immediately leaned in, playing the concerned daughter. "Mom? You're awake! Are you in pain? I'll page the nurse."

She grabbed my wrist. Her very first sentence was: "How is your sister?"

I almost let my mask slip.

"Savannah isn't doing great," I whispered softly. "They had to amputate both legs below the knee. And... her face was badly cut up. She hasn't woken up yet."

Mom went completely silent. She stared straight ahead, her face unreadable.

I couldn't tell if she was grieving or calculating.

The day Mom was discharged, Savannah finally woke up.

She lay in her hospital bed, staring at Mom—who was very much alive—with a mix of panic and guilt.

Dad was out talking to FEMA about emergency housing vouchers.

Savannah still didn't realize her legs were gone. She couldn't feel anything below her waist yet, and she hadn't seen a mirror to realize her face was marked with two massive, jagged scars.

"Mom..." Savannah started, her voice trembling. "I'm glad you're okay. We're both alive, that's what matters, right? Don't be mad at me... I was just so scared in the dark."

Mom’s expression was incredibly dark. The absolute terror of being abandoned to die wasn't something you just brushed off.

I stepped up to Mom and gently linked my arm through hers. "Mom, the doctor said you shouldn't stand for too long. Sit down. If the rescue workers hadn't gotten to you in time, I don't know what I would have done..."

I trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

It worked like a charm.

Mom looked down at Savannah, a flash of pure disgust crossing her eyes.

Savannah glared at me with sheer venom. "Harper Bennett, shut up! Stop trying to turn her against me! Mom will never love you!"

In front of our mother, that statement was the final nail in the coffin.

Mom suddenly turned to me, gripping my hands tightly, her eyes welling with tears.

"Harper, I am so sorry. I was a terrible mother to you. But I promise, things are going to change. I'm going to make it up to you, every single day."

I squeezed her hands back, offering a watery smile. Then, I tilted my head just enough so only Savannah could see the vicious, triumphant smirk on my face.

But internally, I was cold.

We'll see how long that promise lasts, Mom.