The Matriarch's Ascent

Ever since my mom recovered from a massive illness, she became unhinged.

When my dad, Vance, raised a hand to strike her, she didn't flinch.

She just shoved a heavy meat cleaver right into his palm.

She tapped her own neck with a twisted smile. Come on, swing it! Right here! Kill me, and none of your precious nephews will ever get anywhere near those cushy jobs at City Hall or the police department!

My grandma hated my guts for being a girl. She never missed a chance to smack me around or spit insults at me.

In retaliation, my mom marched straight onto my Aunt Patty's front lawn and started screaming for the whole neighborhood to hear. "What a useless womb my mother-in-law has! I can't believe she gave birth to a daughter! What a pathetic, money-draining liability!"

Patty stood on her porch, her face draining of color as her jaw clenched tight enough to shatter teeth.

My mom yanked my arm hard, a cold smirk stretching across her lips as she hummed a little tune. "When a dead-broke worker finally snaps, even rabid dogs know to cross the street."

Chapter 1

I chewed dryly on the cheap, moldy oatmeal in my hand, staring hard at the fried chicken drumstick on my cousin's plate, swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth.

A piece of meat fell onto the table.

I immediately reached out, snatched it, and shoved it into my mouth.

Grandma thrust her hard plastic fork viciously into the back of my hand. Her fingernails dug deep into my flesh. "You starving little bitch!"

Just that tiny, fingernail-sized scrap of meat tasted so incredible. It was so good it almost made the moldy oatmeal stop choking my throat.

My aunt saw my desperate face. "Zero class. Eating trash right off the table."

She used to work a desk job in town, so she always used fancy words I didn't get. I had no idea what "class" meant. But the disgust twisting her face told me everything I needed to know.

I kept my mouth shut, my eyes locked on my cousin's chicken, silently praying he'd drop another piece. At this dinner table, only my cousin was allowed to eat meat and fluffy white rice. I was stuck with the stale mush and some overly salty pickled cabbage.

After dinner, my aunt scooped up my cousin and headed to their room to sleep.

Grandma glared at me. "Go wash the dishes. You break one, and you're eating out of the pig trough tomorrow."

I kept my head down, silently gathering the dirty plates. Stepping out of the kitchen, I pulled a soft white bread roll from my pocket. It smelled heavenly. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to devour it.

I scooped a bowl of thick oatmeal from the pot and slipped a single egg into my other pocket. Carrying the food, I headed to the back room to find my mom, Carmen.

A few days ago, Vance got drunk and beat her half to death. We hadn't known she was pregnant. There was so much blood.

She'd been lying on that lumpy mattress ever since, burning up with a fever for days. Yesterday, I couldn't even wake her up.

I pushed the door open and saw my mom sitting on the edge of the mattress, her eyes glazed over. As I got closer, I heard her muttering.

"What the hell! Did I seriously wake up in someone else's body after dying from overwork? God, the original owner of this body practically lived in a trailer park dumpster. Not a single decent thing ever happened to her."

"Mom? What's wrong?" I asked, rushing over.

She looked at me, raising a hand to touch my face. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. She pulled me into a fierce hug and whispered softly, "Rest in peace, sister. I'll take good care of Harper."

At first, her grip was crushing. But as soon as she said those words, her entire body suddenly relaxed.

"Mom, eat this quickly. You need your strength to get better," I said, handing her the bread roll.

She took it and swallowed a bite. My stomach immediately let out a loud, traitorous growl.

I quickly backed away. "You eat it, Mom. I need to go dig up some worms for the chickens."

If they didn't eat worms every day, they wouldn't lay those big, round eggs.

My mom grabbed my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks. She studied my face carefully, and for some reason, fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Such a good little girl, and you're starved down to skin and bones!"

She slid off the mattress and dragged me straight to the kitchen. Inside the cupboard sat half a roasted chicken. Grandma had specifically saved it for Vance.

My mom yanked the chicken out. She scooped fresh rice from the bin to cook a whole pot, then scrambled four eggs for me, pouring in a generous amount of oil.

She cursed under her breath. "Screw them! We're eating. You need a full stomach if you're gonna fight!"

The kitchen filled with an intoxicating aroma, making my stomach roar even louder. But a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

"Mom, Mom!" I threw a terrified glance out the window, my voice shaking. "If we steal that chicken, Vance is going to beat us to death."

She didn't say a word. She just shoved a fork into my hand and pointed at the plate.

I was too desperate, too starved to care anymore. I caved and started stuffing my face alongside her. It was incredible. I never thought I'd ever get to eat a real chicken drumstick.

Chapter 2

I tore into the greasy drumstick. The rich fat coated my tongue. Fluffy white rice mixed with scrambled eggs, drenched in hot chicken broth. It was heaven.

"Well, well! I wondered why the chimney was smoking! It's you, you worthless jinx, stealing food!" Grandma stood in the kitchen doorway.

"Vance! Your bitch of a wife and this starving little rat are stealing our food! You obviously didn't beat her hard enough last time to let her get this bold!"

Vance materialized behind her. His eyes locked on the table. He grabbed a heavy leather belt.

"You lazy slut. Stealing my chicken. If I don't beat you to death today, you'll be stealing men tomorrow."

My knees knocked together. I threw myself in front of my mom.

"Dad, it was me! I wanted it! Don't hit her, she can't take another beating!"

I expected her to drop to her knees and beg for mercy.

Instead, she grabbed the heavy meat cleaver.

She slammed the rusted meat cleaver hard against Vance's chest and pointed a finger right at her own neck.

"Don't use that piece of shit belt! Use the knife! Swing it right here! Kill me, and none of your precious nephews will ever get anywhere near those cushy jobs at City Hall or the police department!"

Government jobs. I knew what that meant. In our dirt-poor town, landing a county or state job meant real power and a pension. A distant cousin from the next county over got a job as a state trooper, and his parents walked around like they owned the whole damn trailer park.

"You crazy bitch!" Vance raised the cleaver.

Before he could even swing, my mom grabbed a bucket of butchered chicken blood sitting by the door and splashed it all over herself. She threw herself onto the dirt outside the front door, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Murder! Murder! Vance is killing me!"

It was right after lunch. The neighbors were all out on their porches smoking. The second they heard her scream, a crowd swarmed our yard.

Vance burst out the front door, still gripping the heavy cleaver. The crowd erupted into chaos. Within minutes, the whole town thought Vance had butchered his wife. Things blew up.

The town mayor, who also served as the local sheriff, pulled up in his pickup truck!

"What you do behind closed doors is your business. But pulling a knife and committing murder? That's a federal offense!" The sheriff pointed a thick finger at him.

"Vance, if this town gets branded with a murder case, property values will tank and we'll all be a laughingstock!"

He wasn't wrong. Bad news traveled fast. If our town birthed a murderer, we'd forever be known as the local butcher shop.

My mom lay in the dirt, groaning loudly.

Aunt Patty pushed her way through the crowd. "Vance, you're going to ruin this entire family!"

The sheriff glared at Aunt Patty, his jaw tight. "Patty, if you can't keep your brother on a leash, we are getting a divorce. The county commissioner already called my office asking about a homicide."

"Our son is applying to good colleges in the city. If Vance ruins his background check and costs me my badge, I will bury your whole damn family!"

Vance only knew how to use his fists; his brain always lagged behind. He waved his empty hands frantically. "I didn't! I didn't touch her!"

Grandma stepped up, her voice shrill. "She shoved that knife into his hands herself! The woman is crazy!"

My mom's groans suddenly got louder. "Yeah, I'm crazy! I begged my own husband to butcher me! Let's see who the judge believes!"

"I don't care if I live or die anymore. I'll go to the county court! I'll go to the state capital!"

"I'll take this all the way to the feds! I'll tell them my husband tried to slaughter me, and the town sheriff covered up for his brother-in-law!"

Chapter 3

The sheriff and Aunt Patty tore into Vance. They ordered him to keep me quiet and settled.

Aunt Patty pointed a sharp finger at him. "Make sure Carmen gets her strength back! There's the country fair parade in town coming up soon."

"Have her show her face in the town center to kill these rumors. Otherwise, none of us are walking away from this clean."

After my mom's explosive stunt, Vance and Grandma didn't dare lay a finger on us. We devoured half a roast chicken, four eggs, and three bowls of white rice, and not a single blow landed on us! I couldn't even dream of a day like this.

That night, my mom boiled pots of hot water to give me a bath. This was impossible on a normal day. If we dared waste firewood like that, Grandma would have beaten us to death.

"Let's wash the mud off this little monkey." My mom scrubbed the grime off my skin. Her eyes caught the faded scars Vance had left on me, and her lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

The whole thing felt surreal. "Mom, how is today so good? We got to eat real meat, and nobody hit us."

For some reason, tears welled up in her eyes again. She swiped them away roughly. "This is nothing! I'm going to give you a real life."

"From now on, nobody lays a hand on us. We'll eat meat and white rice every single day. And not just thatI'm sending you to school."

We washed up and crawled under the covers. My mom fanned us with a piece of stiff cardboard. "That was called a strategy."

The tiny back room was suffocatingly hot. The rhythm of her fanning brought a sliver of cool air. She explained concepts I'd never heard ofstrategic retreats, leveraging borrowed power to intimidate your enemies.

She kept talking until her voice faded into a drowsy mumble. Right before she drifted off, she whispered, "Man, twenty-five and becoming a mom without even going through labor. Good girl, I'll raise you right."

I stared at her sleeping face, a knot of fear tightening in my stomach. My mom had never even finished elementary school. How did she know all these complicated things? Was the soul inside that body still my mom?

The old Carmen barely knew how to read, but now she was talking about high-level tactics. I suspected this wasn't really her, but I didn't dare blow my cover. I needed to keep watching her.

But whoever she was, she was fearless. She bolted the door from the inside and slept with her arms wrapped around me right until noon, not twitching a muscle even while Grandma screamed curses at the door.

Luckily, Vance had picked up a day-labor job doing construction in the next county over, or he definitely would have broken the door down to beat her again.

Later that morning, Uncle Preston came back from town. Preston had a legit job making furniture at a big warehouse. He visited a few times a month, always bringing fresh meat.

Grandma worshiped Preston. She constantly bragged about how handsome and successful he was. The second he pulled into the yard, Grandma started screaming at my mom to cook.

My mom muttered under her breath, "Always bullying the easy target."

I heard her, but kept quiet and started feeding wood into the stove.

In this house, Preston's wife never set foot in the kitchen. She spent her days reading magazines and parading my cousin around the neighborhood. She originally came from the town center, but her dad died early, and her mom passed away from a severe illness soon after.

People said Preston got lucky marrying a town girl. But honestly, I always got the feeling she looked down on our entire family. I just didn't understand what gave her the right.

She was dead broke herself, had zero money, and was useless at chores. She didn't even know how to feed the chickens.

My mom kept cursing Grandma under her breath, but her hands moved fast and efficiently around the kitchen. Watching her chop vegetables with that familiar rhythm, the doubt crept back in. Was it possible she really was still my mom?

Chapter 4

Did she just get smarter after brushing with death?

She cooked a massive spread of food, and I helped her carry the plates out to the living room.

"Harper, come eat." My mom shoveled a huge mound of fluffy white rice into a bowl and shoved a fork into my hand.

Grandma saw it and immediately slapped my mom hard across the face. "Who the hell told you to waste good food like that? There's still stale oatmeal left."

"Why the hell are you giving her white rice?" She snatched the bowl right out of my hands and shoved it in front of my cousin.

Uncle Preston and his wife just kept their heads down, eating in silence. My cousin grabbed a greasy piece of meat, happily gnawing on it while sticking his tongue out at me.

I was used to this by now. Terrified my mom was about to get beaten again, I tugged hard on her sleeve.

Instead, she raised an eyebrow and actually laughed. "What's that supposed to mean? Harper eating rice is wasting food?"

Grandma slammed her heavy glass onto the table. "What! You got the nerve to give me attitude?"

"You gave birth to a girl, a useless drain on our resources who only takes and never gives! Let me tell you something, just letting you sit at this table under our roof is a goddamn charity from this family!"

"Charity?" My mom snatched the entire plate of freshly roasted ribs off the table and shoved them roughly into my arms.

I froze!

Everyone froze!

My mom shot up from her chair and violently flipped the heavy wooden table.

Crash. Plates shattered, and every single dish splattered across the dirty floor.

"If we don't get to eat rice, then none of you get to eat at all!" My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me sprinting out the door.

Grandma finally snapped out of her shock. She grabbed a heavy rolling pin from the kitchen counter and chased after us.

"Eat it! Hurry up and eat!" My mom dragged me down the dirt road, urging me to gnaw on the meat as we ran.

The neighbors stared at us like we were a circus act.

I ran and chewed at the same time. This was the first time in my entire life I'd ever eaten a whole rack of ribs! She had glazed them with sugar, leaving a faint, sweet taste on my tongue.

For some reason, tears started blurring my vision as I chewed. Over the past two days, I had actually eaten real meat twice.

"Is that drool leaking out of your eyes?" My mom teased, wiping my greasy face with her thumb.

I let out a choked sob. "Mom, Grandma always says the more you eat, the faster you die. I'm eating such good meat am I going to die soon?"

"Listen to that bullshit. She downs two massive bowls of rice every meal, and I don't see the Grim Reaper knocking on her door," my mom spat.

Before I knew it, we sprinted right up to Aunt Patty's front yard.

My mom yanked me directly into a massive mud puddle. We rolled around until we were covered in filth, then she plopped down in the dirt and started wailing at the top of her lungs.

Aunt Patty heard the commotion and rushed outside. The second she stepped onto her porch, she saw Grandma charging toward us, wielding that rolling pin like a baseball bat.

"Patty! I can't live like this anymore!" My mom lunged forward and threw her arms around Patty's legs.

"There's no way to survive if you give birth to a girl! Your mother calls Harper a useless drain all day long! A starving rat! She won't even let her have a single bite of white rice!"

"We women are just born worthless, aren't we?!"

"Patty! Since your mom gave birth to a useless drain like you too, does that mean you aren't allowed to eat white rice either?!"

My mom sobbed loudly, then turned to me. "Harper, go check your aunt's kitchen! Go see if she survives on stale scraps and weeds every day!"

The entire neighborhood had gathered to watch the spectacle, treating it like a front-row movie ticket.

"Keep spouting that bullshit! I'll beat you to death, you cursed jinx!" Grandma raised the rolling pin to strike my mom.

My brain clicked.

I threw myself face-first into the dirt, thrashing and sobbing uncontrollably. "Mom! I'm going to die! It's all my fault!"

"I shouldn't have stolen that meat! But I was so hungry! I've been dreaming about chewing on tree bark!"

Chapter 5

I cried so hard my stomach convulsed. I gagged, throwing up the pork ribs and the half-eaten dry biscuit right onto the dirt.

Aunt Patty shoved my mom hard toward the porch. "Whatever your problem is, take it inside!"

"What the hell is going on here? Break it up!" Sheriff Zhao's voice boomed over the crowd.

The neighbors instantly parted like the Red Sea. Through my tear-blurred vision, I spotted the sheriff walking toward us, flanked by a man and a woman in sharp, professional clothes.

"We can't survive this, my poor Harper!" My mom lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around me, her wails echoing down the street.

"I'll take you to the city to beg for scraps! Anything is better than this house! They say women hold up half the sky, but your grandmother treats us like dirt under her shoe!"

"She's abusing us! Your dad beat me until I miscarried, and now your grandma is starving us to death! How are we supposed to live like this?"

"Sheriff Zhao, is this what you call a misunderstanding?" The man in the state government jacket ground his teeth together. "You assured me the reports of a knife attack in your town were just rumors."

"The state sent me down here to investigate, and I walk straight into a severe case of women and child abuse. And you still want to apply for the Model Community grant? You can kiss that goodbye."

The sheriff scrambled, sweat beading on his forehead. "It's a misunderstanding, Mr. Liu. I swear, a complete misunderstanding."

"Listen to me, ma'am." The woman in the crisp business suit stepped forward, pulling my mom up from the dirt with a firm grip. She stared intently into my mom's eyes.

"Whatever wrongs you've suffered, you tell me. I am a director from the State Department of Children and Family Services. If you have any problems, I will solve them."

"Thank God! Real justice is finally here!" My mom sobbed, wiping snot and dirt from her face, her chest heaving with theatrical relief.

"I can't believe this is happening! I'm going to write letters thanking you for saving us. I'll write to the state capital, the governor's office!"

"Hell, I'll go to the city and find reporters. I'll make sure everyone in the state knows what heroes you are!"

The moment she mentioned reporters and the governor's office, I saw the state investigator and the CPS director exchange a sharp, meaningful look.

Mr. Liu's expression instantly softened. He walked over and lifted me directly off the muddy ground into his arms.

I grabbed his collar with trembling fingers. "Mister, are you like one of those heroes on TV?"

I shrank back slightly, making my voice tremble. "Now that you're here, does that mean my mom and I can eat real food? Does it mean we won't get beaten anymore?"

The CPS director gasped, tears welling in her eyes. She specifically turned her face slightly so the gathered crowd could see her wipe a tear away. "Don't you worry, sweetie," she choked out. "We came down here exactly to fix this."

Grandma refused to back down, her voice screeching like a rusty nail. "What! Government suits can't dictate what happens in my house!"

"What mother-in-law doesn't discipline her son's wife? She can't even pop out a boy, and she thinks she has rights?"

Aunt Patty lunged forward and clamped a hand over Grandma's arm, yanking her back before she could dig her grave any deeper.

They drove us straight to the Town Hall, unloading a mountain of official warnings and paperwork.

Right before the state officials got back in their cars, my mom grabbed their hands, repeating loudly how she was going to write directly to the governor to praise Mr. Liu and the CPS director.

The two officials drove off with smug, self-congratulatory smiles.

The second their taillights disappeared, Sheriff Zhao, my uncle-in-law, hurled his heavy ceramic mug. It shattered into a hundred jagged pieces right at Grandma's feet.

He leveled a murderous glare at Aunt Patty. "We're done. Pack your shit and take your ass back to the Wang family!"

My mom let out a slow, deliberate sigh. "Now, Zhao, don't blow a blood vessel over this. At the end of the day, Patty didn't actually do anything wrong."

Grandma ground her teeth together, jabbing a gnarled finger right at my mom's nose. "You're the bitch stirring all this shit up! And you've got the nerve to stand there and talk!"

Sheriff Zhao narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto my mom. "What exactly are you getting at, Carmen?"

Chapter 6

My mom held me tight, flashing a wide, calculated grin. "I saw it with my own eyes. Those two state suits brought a reporter with them."

"Sheriff Zhao, I had to blow this up. That's the only way anyone pays attention. In a town this small, the worst thing you can be is invisible. Am I right?"

Aunt Patty's face darkened. "You're talking shit. How the hell is this a good thing?"

"Exactly! It is a good thing!" My mom slapped my thigh hard.

"A crisis turned into a PR win. Isn't that exactly how you build a political track record?"

She slapped my leg so hard it stung. My brain was buzzing.

This definitely wasn't my mom. The real Carmen was a mouse. She would never dare string that many words together in front of the sheriff. Whoever this fake mom was, I had no idea what she had whispered to him in private, but she had him completely wrapped around her finger.

"Don't you worry, Zhao," she promised, her voice dripping with absolute certainty. "Give it a month, and that official state commendation letter will be sitting right on your desk."

Sheriff Zhao dropped the hammer right then and there. "Patty, if your mother or your brother ever raise a hand to her again, or try to starve her, we are legally done. You can pack your bags and move back into this dump, and our son won't even look at you!"

That was a lethal threat. The blood drained from Grandma and Aunt Patty's faces. Neither of them dared to breathe a word of protest.

On the walk back to the house, my mom reached out to grab my hand. I flinched and dodged her grip. She shot me a long look but kept her mouth shut.

The second we got home, my mom tracked down Preston's wife to get a pen and some paper. When my aunt hesitated, clinging to her precious stationery, my mom didn't ask twice. She just snatched it right out of her hands.

How was this woman so incredibly badass? They tried to starve her, so she flipped the damn dining table. They refused to hand over a pen, so she physically ripped it from their grip.

I caught her muttering under her breath. "Instead of torturing yourself, it's way better to drive everyone else insane."

Honestly, that made a lot of sense. Take the crazy lady who lived by the junkyard. Everyone hated her, everyone was terrified of her, but she lived a completely unbothered life.

Grandma spat at her from across the room. "You barely finished fifth grade and can't even spell your own name, and now you're pretending to write letters? You're putting lipstick on a pig!"

True to form, Grandma's big mouth broadcasted it to the entire neighborhood, telling anyone who would listen that my mom was putting on airs, trying to act like some educated writer.

The neighbors actually wandered into our yard just to watch the freak show. They threw passive-aggressive jabs, laughing that she was an illiterate hillbilly trying to play smart.

My mom just rolled her eyes. "I'm submitting an article to the city newspaper! It's not a damn letter. If you don't know what you're talking about, keep your mouths shut."

That claim was wild enough to make even Preston's quiet, snobby wife speak up. She pulled a long, condescending face. "Carmen, look at yourself. Please don't insult the art of literature."

Oh, listen to her. Literature. Such a high and mighty word.

She said it like dropping those syllables suddenly made the chicken shit in our yard smell like roses. For years, Preston's wife had used the word "literature" to perch herself on a pedestal, acting like a literal goddess in our house!

She had a high school diploma and spent every single day daydreaming about becoming a famous writer. Every time Uncle Preston came home, he'd take her little manuscripts and mail them off to publishers. But after all these years, she hadn't published a single word.

The town board actually saw her diploma and offered her a job teaching at the local elementary school. She lasted exactly two days. She quit because she claimed the local kids were too stupid and the job was beneath her.

Bullshit. Beneath her? What exactly was her net worth?

"Look at myself?" My mom waved the blank sheets of paper in the air and spit forcefully onto the dirt floor.

"If it wasn't for someone like me, do you think a high-and-mighty high school grad like you would wake up to a hot meal every day? Who washes your filthy clothes? Who breaks their back working the yard while you sit around reading?"

Chapter 7

My mom slammed her palm against the doorframe, a blue vein throbbing on her forehead. "Let me tell you something! From now on, everyone handles their own shit!"

"Don't expect me to go clean up the acreage and the trailers out back for you. From now on, if I cook, you wash the dishes. Otherwise, you can go out and eat dirt!"

Grandma jumped in, her voice shrill. "Don't push your luck, bitch! Keep your mouth shut. I'm listening to my son-in-law, so we won't hit you."

"But you're not getting out of your chores! The harvest is coming up, and you're not slacking off. We're relying on you to work those six acres."

This time, my mom didn't launch into a tirade. She just dropped three words that hit like a hammer: "Why should I?"

Yeah! Why should she?

Those three words exploded in my brain like a thunderclap.

Preston's wife lost all color in her face! But listening to it made a vicious thrill run through me. She had been married into this family for eight years, and just because Preston worked a decent job in town and she popped out a boy, she never lifted a single finger around the house.

And Grandmapeople said she used to be a hard worker back in the day, but now she dumped every single chore onto my mom! During planting season, my mom worked those entire six acres out back completely alone, from dawn until dusk.

She'd break her back all day in the dirt, and come home to absolutely nothing to eat. Grandma would be off playing cards somewhere, and my aunt would lock herself in her room to eat her own stash of snacks.

As for Vance, he might as well be dead for all the good he did.

He didn't touch a single farm chore. He just relied on his sporadic construction gigs to scrape together enough cash for cheap beer and cigarettes. He thought he was hot shit, thought he brought in the big bucks, but when did he ever contribute a single dime to this family?

Every penny we managed to save was squeezed from my mom's blood and sweat, working the fields and raising chickens. The old Carmen had been too soft, too quiet.

Farming, laundry, cookingshe did it all. She did all that backbreaking work and never got a single word of thanks. Instead, Vance and Grandma beat her for breathing wrong.

One time, she just asked him to take off his mud-caked boots before getting into bed. He beat her face until it was bruised and swollen, screaming, "Stupid bitch! You think you're too good for my dirt? You think you're some rich city princess complaining about boots? Should I go draw a bubble bath for myself too?!"

When he drank his wallet dry, he'd demand cash from her, yelling, "I'm the man of the house! I bust my ass to provide! What's wrong with taking a few bucks for myself?!"

My mom had suffered through pure hell. And today, someone finally asked the question for her.

Why should she?

Hot tears spilled over my cheeks before I could stop them. I crouched in the corner, furiously wiping the wetness away with my dirty sleeve.

Grandma choked on her words for a second before snapping back. "What do you mean, 'why'? Every woman marries into this life! When I was young, I suffered through the exact same shit!"

My mom walked over and rested a heavy hand on my head. She locked eyes with Grandma. "Maybe everyone else lives like that, but I absolutely will not. Because this life I have right now was traded for someone else's. If I keep living like a pathetic punching bag, it would be an insult to the life that was lost."

My head snapped up, my eyes wide.

What the hell did that mean? Was she flat-out admitting that a different soul had taken over my mom's body?!

My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me straight to Sheriff handing over the papers she'd written so he could mail them to the city.

Sheriff Zhao scanned the pages, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You've got real political awareness in this piece!"

In the article, my mom heavily praised the state's welfare policies, the county's incredible support, and the local sheriff's practical leadership for rescuing vulnerable women from their suffering.

We didn't go back to the house. Instead, we sat out on the ridge of the fields, staring out at the golden, drying cornstalks. Those six acres right in front of us were planted, tended, and sweat over row by row, entirely by my mom.

Chapter 8

The real Carmen used to tell me, "Harper, once we harvest the corn and sell it off, I'm sending you to school. I have no education, and I've eaten dirt my whole life. You have to study, go to a good college, and get out of this life."

Back then, the idea of college felt like a different planet. "What if I don't get in?"

In our town, the only reason you went to school was to punch a ticket to a state university. But out of everyone in the trailer park, almost no one ever made it. If going to school meant I absolutely had to get into college, the pressure terrified me. I was terrified of wasting all the blood and sweat she poured into those fields.

My mom had thought about it for a second. "It doesn't matter if you don't get in. As long as you figure out what you want to do and live the life you want, that's enough."

That took a massive weight off my chest. "Mom, what do you want to do?"

"What I want to do is make sure you live the life you want." She had shrunk into herself when she said it, her voice losing its confidence. "Man, I don't have the vocabulary to make it sound pretty. Don't look down on your mom, Harper."

Sitting on the dirt ridge now, I remembered sitting in this exact spot chatting with her last spring.

I missed her.

Tears spilled hot and fast over my eyelashes. A heavy, jagged rock seemed to lodge itself right in my chest, making every breath scrape my throat raw.

This fake mom was a force of nature. She had a silver tongue, she made sure we ate hot meals, and she made damn sure nobody laid a hand on us.

The original Carmen was terrified of her own shadow. When she got nervous, she'd stutter until she couldn't speak at all. But for my sake, she was willing to risk everything.

Why did she get beaten so badly she miscarried? Because she dared to ask for my tuition money.

I was almost nine years old, and I had never stepped foot inside a classroom. I used to crouch beneath Preston's window, pressing my ear against the thin siding to listen to his wife teaching my cousin how to read and do his homework. My mom would find me, silently pull me back to our cramped room, and press a cheap piece of hard candy into my palm.

I had resented her for it. "Why can't you be more like her? Why couldn't I be a boy?"

She never had the right words. She just looked at her rough, calloused hands. "Harper, Mom is just useless."

She was right. Aside from scrubbing filthy clothes, cooking cheap meals, and breaking her back in the dirt, she couldn't do a single thing. I used to wish so hard for a different mom. But now that she was actually gone, replaced by this fearless stranger, the ache of losing her was suffocating.

Useless or not, she was the woman who carried me for nine months. She was the woman who put me first in every miserable second of her life!

When I finally ran out of tears, a warm pair of arms pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Harper," the woman beside me said softly. "Making sure you eat well, dress warm, learn to read, and get into college that was her absolute obsession. I can feel it practically burned into my bones. Honestly, I think that's the whole reason I was pulled into this body."

I sniffled, wiping my nose on my dirty sleeve. "My mom isn't dying for nothing."

This fake mom had looked Grandma dead in the eye and demanded to know why she had to do all the work. Now, a feral rage ignited in my own veins. I wanted to scream it at all of them.

Why did my mom have to die for absolutely nothing?!

Vance beat her to death in a blind rage just because she asked for a few dollars to send me to school. But the real reason he snapped was because he'd blown every single cent of the egg money she'd saved up at an illegal poker game. His heavy fists had landed so hard. He hit her until the blood soaked right through the mattress.

And Grandma? She just spat on the floor, calling my mom a cursed jinx who couldn't even hold onto a baby. She left her bleeding out in that sweltering back room without so much as a glass of water.

That was how she died!

Why did they get to breathe and eat and live, while my mom was just erased like dirt?!

"You're right. She's not dying for nothing," my mom's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "Good people get rewarded, and pieces of shit get what's coming to them. That's the only law that matters