I didn't even go back home. I just got on the first flight out and slept for hours on the plane, feeling like I was finally free.
But when I landed and turned my phone back on, it was blowing up with missed calls and texts. I knew something was wrong. The notifications kept coming, and I saw Dad's message: [Call me right now]. Then another. And another.
I knew what it was about. I knew before I even hit dial. When he answered, his voice was frantic. "Your mom and Charlie... they've both been rushed to the ER! They need your bone marrow! You must come back right now!"
I couldn't believe it. My brother, too? How was I supposed to deal with that? Like, me? Take care of both of them? After everything?
I didn't say anything, and he started losing it. "If you don't come back, I'll cancel your card! You'll be out there alone, and if you die, nobody's coming to claim your body!"
That's when I started laughing again. Tears were running down my face, but I was laughing because it was just... ridiculous. After everything they'd done, after all the abuse, that was what we'd end up with: they wanted me back but threatened me if I didn't.
And I finally said it. "What a pity. Sorry, Dad, but I don't save devils."
And I hung up. It was the bravest thing I'd done in years.
