Chapter 5: Pushed Out

She wouldn’t have the surgery unless they agreed? Now that the surgery was done, it meant the family had agreed to Aubrey’s request.

A pit opened in my stomach, cold and bottomless. I braced myself, trying not to let the dread show on my face.

My heart tightened, but I forced myself to sound calm. “What did she ask for?”

My hands shook a little, so I tucked them into my sleeves, holding on tight to any scrap of composure I had left.

My mom stayed silent, her eyes darting away.

She looked everywhere but at me—at the clock, at the nurse’s desk, at a stain on the wall.

Derek, hands in his pockets, spoke up—but instead of answering, he changed the subject to my college application.

He bounced on his heels, like a kid about to ask for the car keys. “I heard the deadline for applications is coming up. Have you filled yours out yet?”

As he asked, Mom and Dad both froze, then exchanged a glance and looked at me expectantly.

Their faces were tight, hopeful and scared all at once, as if my answer would decide everything.

I nodded, then shook my head. “I filled it out, but I can still change it.”

My voice sounded distant, but I managed to keep it from shaking.

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Which college do you want to go to?”

He sounded casual, but his eyes never left my face.

I said the one in Maple Heights—the one you all originally suggested.

The words tasted bitter. I’d wanted so badly for them to be proud of my choice.

Derek immediately frowned.

His mouth twisted, as if he’d bitten into something sour.

My dad cleared his throat and waved a hand. “That one’s actually pretty average. Natalie, your grades are great, right? If you can get into a better one, I think you should change it.”

His voice was gruff, trying to sound encouraging, but I could hear the edge beneath it.

My mom chimed in, “Right, you’re an adult now. Don’t be afraid to go a little farther from home—it’s good for girls to see more of the world…”

She smiled, but her eyes were full of something else—a mix of hope and guilt and relief.

They spoke earnestly, their eyes fixed on me.

I felt pinned in place by their stares, like a bug beneath glass.

Suddenly, I understood. My heart clenched in pain again.

The truth was plain as day: Aubrey’s request was the final push. The choice was never really mine.

Derek lifted his chin. “How about this: I’ll help you pick two. One is my alma mater on the coast, and the other is one a friend recommended…”

He listed two schools—one two hundred miles away, the other three hundred. Meanwhile, the university in Maple Heights was only ten miles away, a twenty-minute drive.

His voice was upbeat, as if he were doing me a favor. But I heard the message loud and clear: get out. Stay gone.

It seemed Aubrey’s request was for me to get as far away as possible. And the whole family had agreed.

The realization settled over me like a blanket of snow—quiet, suffocating, inescapable.

So while I was filling out applications, they were pushing for colleges farther and farther from home.

Every suggestion, every nudge, had been about distance. They’d made up their minds before I’d even asked.

Originally, they’d insisted I stay local.

They said they wanted me close, but when it came down to it, they wanted me gone.

I turned my head, suddenly dazed.

The hospital walls felt narrower, the air sharp. My vision blurred, and I blinked hard to keep the tears in.

I couldn’t tell if I’d ever truly been brought home at all.

Maybe I was still trapped in that rundown trailer park—dodging my foster dad, hiding from creepy neighbors, sleeping on a cot in the laundry room, fighting the stray cats for scraps…

The memory stung, vivid and raw—the peeling linoleum, the mildew smell, the way the night sounds crept through the thin walls.

Back then, there was pain, fear, and tears.

Each night, I’d curl up and pray for a family, for a place that felt safe.

And now, there was still pain, fear, and tears.

The setting had changed, but the story stayed the same.

Turns out, after three years, I still hadn’t escaped that little trailer park.

No matter how far I’d come, the loneliness followed me, a shadow I couldn’t shake.

“Alright,” I said.

My voice was barely more than a whisper, but it rang with finality. I saw the relief flicker across their faces, the tension ease.

I should leave.

Leaving was the only thing left to do. I was tired of fighting for a place I never really had.

I should finally leave the ‘little trailer park’ that had always trapped me.

I squared my shoulders, took a slow breath, and for the first time, the thought of leaving didn’t scare me—it almost felt like hope. I didn’t belong here. Maybe I never did. But tomorrow, I’d start packing anyway.