Resent, Reject, Regret by Aqua Summers

It opened, its swing slow and creaking. She then looked, and her eyes suddenly glinted. “Bren!” She stepped forward, animated by her excitement. “Bren, listen! There’s something you must kn—”

“Shut the hell up and follow me!”

At that moment, Deirdre noticed how bone-chillingly frigid he looked. She instantly froze. “W-What’s going on?”

His stare could freeze blood. “Lena was out driving. She ran over someone by accident and killed them. Then, she ran.”

Deirdre’s mind went blank. “She killed someone in a hit-and-run? Then she should report herself to the authorities! What does this have to do with—”

A lump formed in her throat. Her voice broke and disbelief dawned on her as she fixed her eyes on him.

His words came out like a decree. “Take the blame for her crime.”

Deirdre’s eyes widened in horror, and she felt like her world was on the brink of collapsing. “No! No, no, no! No! Why? Why should I be the one to… to be imprisoned? To be sentenced to death? To suffer in her place?!”

“Because, Deirdre McKinnon, you pretended to be her for two years!” Brendan snarled. That woman’s wails were so grating that he cringed. “They managed to snap a picture of her when she ran away, but the two of you look the same anyway! Everyone will think it was you. You have nowhere to hide.”

“Then tell the world we’re not the same person! Tell them that Charlene and I are two different people!” she yelled, her breaths heavy and labored. “And you’re wrong about me pretending to be her. She’s the pretender! She took away my life six years ago! I was the one who risked her life to save you from the fire, Bren! It was me!”

Deirdre had expected disbelief and shock, and yet to her surprise, Brendan hardly frowned. Something worse took over his features—disgust. “Lena was right. You found out about her rescuing me from the fire six years ago, and your sorry *ss immediately tried to pretend to be her in that story! You really scraped the bottom of the barrel, Deirdre.”

“What… are you saying?”

“If you really were the one who saved me 6 years ago, why didn’t you blare it out like a f*cking PSA over the past two years? It would be just like you to want the whole f*cking world to know!”

Tears burst out of her eyes. God knows how much she had tried to tell him over the past two years, but he had never let her finish a sentence. He hated hearing her speak, and the only thing he could stomach was her face. His favorite version of her was that of a lowly mute.

“Look, I have had enough. Report yourself to the authorities without any funny business and I’ll make sure you don’t get the death sentence. You’ll get a few years maybe, but by the time you’re released, I’ll compensate you for your time.”

a few years maybe? A

think you can make me do Charlene’s time. She killed someone! She should pay for it with her

pathos and goodwill had been burned out. A storm then overcame him. “Ah. I get it. You love it rough.

from her to destination

on the floor. By the time she recovered enough strength to collect her phone, she instantly received a call. Her mother’s name, Ophelia McKinnon, flashed on the

the call in a heartbeat.

are you, Dee Dee?”

feeble. So vulnerable. Tears

cognitively underdeveloped, and her mind was on par with that of a typical child. Since Deirdre had agreed to become Charlene’s placeholder wife, Brendan had

herself before answering, “Hi, M-Mom. I’m, uh, at

lost. “Aunt Engel? She went

Deirdre parroted, feeling stunned. Her mother’s nurse, Mrs. Engel, had never left her mother’s side. “Where did she go?”

broke things and pushed me and said

she could react, though, she suddenly heard

“Mom?! Mom!”

leaving only Deirdre’s futile cries echoing into the void. She felt her heart palpitating and leaped into action despite her dizzy

residence and yet found only a stranger locking the front door. There was no sight of her mother. Deirdre lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of

away without showing a tinge of sympathy. “That nutcase was your mother?! God, crazy does run in the family! Those people

eyes widened in rage. “You people sent my mother to an institution and claimed this house as your own?! Who the hell gave

the authority?” the man repeated her words mockingly. “The property owner, big-fat-duh! This house belongs to the Brighthalls, nutty. And now, Mr. Brighthall wants the house back and wants your mother hopping merrily away, okay? By the way, I know you’re thankful for us sending your mom to a nuthouse. I mean, have you ever looked at her? She can’t live another day without care. Yeah, you’re

got in his car smugly

had begun to reconstruct scenes of her mother—scared, alone, confused—being manhandled and dragged to a mental institution of unknown

had been holding. It was a

her

voice. Whoever was speaking was standing outside of the frame.

minced and gooey that no one could tell what kind of

of it and flung it at Ophelia. “Food, looney! You

disobediently. She shot a look at the food and pinched her nose. “It stinks!’

should be grateful to even have a meal!

shook her head. “B-B-But I don’t wanna! It stinks! It’ll give me a bad tummy—”