Chapter 3: Four Years of Hardship

Raylee felt a pang of sadness, her emotions a complex blend of resentment and anticipation. Reaching the room's entrance, Casimir offered a box of pastries. "I've ordered some food. If you're hungry, eat these first." Raylee's gaze fell on the pastries—identical to those Waverly had given her at the hospital. "I don't like pastries. Save them for Waverly," she replied softly, her gaze dimming. She didn't need these insincere gestures. The memory of the Lorimer family's birthday banquet, the false accusation of theft, and Casimir's accusatory stance remained vivid. Her father, mother, brother, and fiancé—all had sided with Waverly. Perhaps Samuel was right; she had lived as the wealthy heiress for eighteen years. What more could she complain about? Maybe her four years of imprisonment were compensation. Yet, the injustice remained overwhelming. One can always find a reason to condemn. Those significant in her life had each pushed her into the abyss. Just as Casimir was about to speak, a phone call interrupted him, and he hastily left.

In her hotel room, Raylee bathed. Looking at the haphazard scars, her eyes stung. These were the humiliations of her imprisonment. Even free, a brand felt etched upon her, a haunting shadow. After blow-drying her hair, she felt slightly more spirited. Lacking new clothes, she wore her old sweater, hiding chilblains and blisters with gloves. At the inpatient building, she found the operating room where the Goodridge family anxiously awaited. Vera, suddenly ill, had been rushed for emergency surgery. Raylee watched the red light above the operating room flicker on, her eyelashes trembling, a profound sense of suffocation overwhelming her. Vera was her greatest love in the world.

Approaching, Waverly casually displayed her bracelet. "Raylee, Grandma gave this to you before surgery, but I really like it. Could you…?" Raylee glanced at the emerald bracelet, silent. Memories of Waverly taking her things—room, clothes, bags, shoes, even her beloved cat—flooded back. The anger she once felt was gone. Everything in the Goodridge residence belonged to Waverly, the legitimate daughter. She was merely a pretender, having enjoyed those privileges for eighteen years.

Waverly looked disheartened. "If you're not willing to give it to me, I'll return it." Samuel intervened, reprimanding, "Enough, Raylee. It's just a bracelet. Give it to Waverly! I can buy you eight or ten more!" Raylee sat, silent. Simply existing seemed a mistake. Perhaps she was the original sin. "Samuel, I really love this bracelet. Why didn't Grandma give it to me? Is it because she doesn't like me?" Tears clung to Waverly's lashes as she looked pitifully at Samuel. He abruptly pulled Raylee up, scolding, "How could you be so petty? And that long face? Do you think Grandma's protection shields you from me?"

Before Raylee could respond, Samuel dragged her toward the operating room. "Grandma's fate hangs in the balance, and you're fighting over a bracelet! Do you want to get her killed?" Raylee's injured leg throbbed intensely as Samuel roughly pulled her, causing her to gasp and fall. Harriet, returning from the restroom, witnessed this, helping Raylee up and berating Samuel, "Why are you picking on your sister again?"

Samuel gritted his teeth. "Mom, she bullied Waverly! Grandma can't handle the shock!" Harriet, seeing Waverly's tears, criticized Raylee. "Ray-Ray, you shouldn't have argued. Grandma's health is poor; she can't handle stress. Let Waverly have the bracelet."

Raylee, emotionless, replied, "I never said I wouldn't give it to her." Harriet frowned. "Then why did your brother lose his temper? It's just a bracelet. I'll get you another." Raylee nodded, silent; anything she said would be wrong. Samuel's harsh pull had caused intense pain. Exhausted, frail, and weak from her recent release and lack of food, she felt her body at its limit. Everything went dark, and she collapsed.

She awoke in a hospital bed, hearing Harriet's sobs. She was in a hospital gown. They had seen her scars. Harriet gently took her hand, crying, "Ray-Ray, your hands have so many chilblains and blisters! The doctor mentioned signs of being hit with a rod, whipped, and burned with cigarette butts…" Samuel patted Harriet's shoulder, guilt-ridden and unable to meet Raylee's gaze or apologize.

Harriet wiped her tears. "I thought you were just in prison for four years. I never imagined…who could be so cruel?" Waverly's eyes were red. "Raylee, I'm so upset. Your pain is my pain. What have you been through?"

Raylee looked at Waverly, her sarcasm apparent. Your pain is my pain? Anger welled up. Calmly, she began, "Not a single day went by without bullying. Chilblains, blisters, hair pulling, punches, kicks, burns, boiling water, slaps—child's play. A toothpick pierced my ear, rupturing my eardrum. They used iron rods with nails, puncturing my legs. I've been through it all—the water dungeon, solitary confinement, electric torture."

Waverly's eyes widened. Tears fell, and she collapsed into Samuel's arms. "Why are you crying? You're not the one who spent four years in prison," Raylee remarked, observing their sorrow, the irony palpable.