Four Ballots. Four Names. My Family Chose To Trade Me Away Chapter 05

Four Ballots. Four Names. My Family Chose To Trade Me Away Chapter 05

Thirty hours on a rattling Greyhound bus. Then two more rides on un-air-conditioned county shuttles. Finally,

a rusted Ford pickup that used to haul hogs.

The camera crew’s faces went green as the stench of pig manure and dust hit them. The cameraman gagged

but kept the lens on me.

The director was waiting for me to crack, to cry, to break down.

I disappointed them.

Every bump and jolt should’ve been misery, but I felt lighter than I had in years.

Warmth spread through my spine as the reclaim notifications chimed. My perpetually cold hands and feet grew hot. The suffocating weight that had sat in my chest for three years-gone.

I wiped my face. My cheeks, which used to be dry and flaky, now felt smooth to the touch.

The years of my life I had lost had been returned, and I was healthy and energetic again. It felt great.

The truck stopped in front of a crumbling adobe house.

This was Dust Hollow. My home for the next period of time.

A heavy, red-faced man stood in the doorway with a thick wooden club, reeking of cheap whiskey. He looked me up and down.

“City princess, huh?”

“Out here, you follow my rules.”

He slammed the club on the ground and pointed to the yard.

“Fill that water barrel. Then muck out the pig shed.”

The cameraman perked up. This was the drama they’d been hoping for-city girl broken by backwoods brute. Ratings gold.

I dragged my suitcase past him without a word.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, princess!”

Cletus Boone felt his authority challenged. He swung the club at my shoulder.

Someone behind the camera gasped.

I sidestepped, twisted the club from his grip, and drove my foot into his knee.

He howled and crashed to the ground.

I flipped the bat and pressed it hard across his throat.

“You want to try that again?”

“Be my guest.”

The recovered strength in my limbs surprised even me. The wood dug into his windpipe. His face turned

purple, and genuine fear flickered in his eyes.

The villagers murmured but nobody intervened.

The director’s jaw hung open. Where was the cowering invalid he’d been promised?

Meanwhile, back in Palisades Point, Celeste sat at her vanity, live-streaming to thousands.

She wore silk pajamas, hair perfectly pinned, radiating practiced grace.

“So many of you ask how I stay so young. Honestly-mindset. Don’t stress. And stay far away from negative people. Some people are just bad luck. You absorb their misery.”

She was subtly shading me, of course.

She peeled off her expensive custom sheet mask, rinsed her face, and turned back to the camera with a

warm smile.

The chat went completely silent for a moment. Then the comments started flooding in like crazy.

[HOLY-]

[Who’s this old lady?? Where’s Celeste??]

[That filter just crashed hard!]

[Is that… age spots??]

Celeste frowned at the comments. Old lady? Spots?

She turned her head and looked at the large European-style round mirror beside her.

A blood-curdling scream split the silence.

The woman in the mirror had sagging, hollow cheeks. Crow’s feet layered like cracked leather. Her cheekbones were covered in mottled brown age spots.