Blood Means Nothing I Own Everything

Summary

My parents finally tracked me down in the fourth year of my exile.

When they saw me, there were no warm embraces, no tears of relief. They didn’t ask if I’d spent my nights sleeping in shelters or if I’d gone days without a meal. They didn’t care about the hollows in my cheeks or the callouses on my hands.

Instead, my father’s voice cut through the damp air of my tiny apartment like a blade. "Do you finally realize the gravity of what you did?"

I didn't hesitate. I dropped to my knees on the cold, cracked linoleum. The tears came instantly—ugly, desperate, and loud.