After leaving the hospital, I wandered aimlessly through the streets, letting the snowflakes fall on my body, my face.
Sharp pains shot through my stomach, and I curled up on the ground, trembling from the agony.
I wished I could die right there, end it all.
But in the blur of my pain, I saw my grandmother's kind face again.
She gently stroked my hair and whispered softly, "Caroline, you must live well. See more of this beautiful world for me."
I woke up crying, my tears soaking the filthy doll beside me.
Grandma, I miss you so much!
After a long while, I struggled to my feet.
I wiped away my tears.
I told myself I couldn't die yet.
I had to keep going.
For Grandma, and for myself.
I found the old house where I used to live.
I didn't know if my parents still lived there after the divorce.
It was a gamble.
But when I stepped into the yard again, it was decorated festively.
Bright, colorful lights were strung everywhere.
A Christmas tree, over six feet tall, stood proudly in the center of the living room, surrounded by neatly wrapped gift boxes.
My sister, dressed in a pink Barbie dress, sparkled like a little princess as she descended from the second floor.
Mom showed her the new clothes and jewelry she had bought.
All of it was the latest fashion from the shop windows.
"Hannah, do you like these outfits? Oh, and look at this little crown. I had it custom-made just for you; it matches your dress perfectly."
Mom dressed up very attractively.
Her well-maintained face showed no signs of aging, as if time had never touched her.
My sister gleefully pouted, "Wow, it's so beautiful! I want Daddy to put it on me."
Dad, in his perfectly tailored suit, looked every bit the successful businessman.
He rose from the couch, doting affection in his eyes.
"Of course, my sweet Hannah, Daddy will put the crown on for you."
The sight of their happy family burned my eyes.
Tears, unbidden, streamed down my cheeks.
So, after they sent me away, they never actually divorced.
Maybe they never intended to divorce at all.
They had only staged that scene in court to avoid living with me.
After placing the crown on my sister's head, Dad turned and noticed me standing outside the window, surprised.
"Caroline?"
Hearing my name, Mom's brows furrowed.
"Why would you mention that wretched thing on such a lovely Christmas day?"
I laughed bitterly.
So, I wasn't even worthy of a name in their world.
Holding my dirty doll, I walked in expressionless, my chapped lips barely moving as I asked, "Can you lend me two hundred dollars?"
I didn't know how much it would cost to treat stomach cancer.
But two hundred dollars was a fortune to me.
I'd have to scavenge for a long, long time to repay it.
But before I could finish speaking, Dad's voice cut in sharply.
"You were so tough when you ran away from the hospital! What's the matter? Can't survive out there anymore and now you want to come crawling back for money?"
Mom glanced at my filthy appearance, her expression filled with disgust.
"So young, and all you think about is money! Do you know how hard it is to earn money, you worthless brat?"
My voice was hoarse as I replied, "The doctor said I have cancer. I need money for treatment."
Dad shot up from his seat, striding toward me.
I looked at him with hope, thinking he might finally care about me.
Even if just a little.
But I was wrong.
He raised his hand and slapped me hard.
Smack!
The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the spacious living room.
My cheek burned, my ears ringing.
Dad, seething with rage, pointed a finger at my face and shouted.
"You ungrateful girl! Now you're even making up such lies to get money? You think I'll believe that?"
With trembling hands, I pulled the diagnosis paper from my pocket and held it out to him.
"I'm not lying. I really have cancer. The doctor said if I don't get treated, I'll die!"