When we got to my boyfriend’s apartment, I stopped dead in my tracks at the front door. "You need to text your mom for the temporary passcode, right? I can sit here and wait..." Liam expertly punched a string of numbers into the keypad. With a soft click, the heavy door swung open. "Why would I need a temporary passcode to get into my own house? Those are for plumbers and dog walkers." He cheerfully typed the code into my phone so I'd have it. "From now on, you don't even need to knock. Just let yourself in!" I stared at the numbers on the screen, and I suddenly broke down. Because my entire life, my mother had told me that the code to our front door changed every single day, and she was the only one who knew it. So every time I came home, I had to beg her to text me a temporary guest PIN. If she didn't see my text, or if she was just in a bad mood, I had to sit on the concrete outside the door, waiting for her and my brother to get back. If I didn't make it home before the temporary PIN expired, she would lock me out, claiming the app "only lets me generate one code a day." It turned out, master codes existed all along. She just never wanted me to have it. Mrs. Carter walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on an apron. She had a naturally stern face. "You're here? Come on in." My heart skipped a beat. She looked incredibly intimidating. I forcibly swallowed my tears, took a timid half-step back, and acted as submissive as possible. "Mrs. Carter, do you have any disposable plastic shoe booties?" Her eyes dropped to my feet. She turned around, pulled something out of the shoe cabinet, and dropped it right by my toes. It wasn't a plastic bootie. It was a pair of brand-new, plush pink slippers. The tags were still on them. "I bought these specifically for you. Whenever you come over, you wear these." I stared down at the pink slippers, my throat tightening until it ached. At my house, I was only ever allowed to wear cheap, disposable plastic booties. They were paper-thin, squeaking loudly against the hardwood with every step I took. If we ran out, I had to use my own pathetic grocery allowance to buy more. My brother, Tyler, never had to wear them. He was allowed to track his muddy sneakers all over the house. Seeing my frozen expression, Mrs. Carter looked a little impatient. "What's wrong? You don't like pink? I don't have time to run back to Target to buy you another pair!" Liam pouted, about to say something to defend me, but I quickly grabbed his arm and frantically slipped my feet into the shoes. "No, no! I love them!" At the dinner table, I stared blankly at the massive spread of food. Every single dish was my absolute favorite. At my house, Mom only ever cooked the things Dad and Tyler liked. Whenever I asked for something, I was met with a heavy, guilt-tripping sigh. "Anna, I'm just so exhausted. I promise I'll make your favorite next time..." Mrs. Carter ate her food without paying much attention to me, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her watching my reaction. She leaned over and whispered to Liam. "Are you sure these are her favorites? If you made me cook all this for nothing, I'm going to kill you." I immediately started shoveling food into my mouth like I hadn't eaten in weeks. The two of them stared at me in shock. As soon as dinner was over, Mrs. Carter dragged me to the smart lock on the front door. "Give me your hand." I held my hand out blindly. She grabbed my index finger and pressed it against the biometric scanner. "Fingerprint is registered. From now on, you come over whenever you want. You don't need to text me first." Liam sneakily leaned into my ear and whispered, "This means my mom loves you. She basically considers you her daughter-in-law already!" I stared blankly at the heavy wooden door. I opened my mouth to say thank you, but the tears rolled down my cheeks first. Mrs. Carter jumped in surprise, then delivered a swift kick to Liam's shin. "You little brat, did you bully her in the car on the way over?!" Liam winced in pain. "I didn't do anything!" As I cried, I felt even more confused. She looked so intimidating, yet she wasn't mad at me for crying. My own mother, who always put on the face of a gentle, long-suffering saint, would look at my tears and sigh. "Anna, you give me such a headache when you cry. Can't you just be a little more mature?" Right at that moment, my phone buzzed. It was my mom. "Your curfew is almost up, Anna. Better run." The call disconnected. A screenshot popped up in my texts: A six-digit temporary PIN. Below it, an active countdown timer: 29 minutes and 47 seconds. Ever since I was old enough to understand what a door was, getting inside my own house had been a battle. When I was little, we had a regular deadbolt. Mom, Dad, and Tyler all had keys. I didn't. When I asked why, Mom patted my head with a look of deep, sorrowful apology. "You're so clumsy, sweetie. If I gave you a key, you'd definitely lose it. It costs five dollars to cut a new one! That's such a waste." But Tyler was the one who constantly lost things. He lost his house key three times in the sixth grade alone. Every single time, Mom went to Home Depot the very next day to get him a new one, complete with a brand-new Marvel keychain. Tyler would dangle the shiny key right in my face. "Look, Anna! I've got a key! Now I can sneak out to the arcade at night and come home whenever I want!" I didn't have a key, so I couldn't leave the house. If I did, I might never get back in. When I was in high school, my parents upgraded to a digital smart lock. It had a keypad and a fingerprint scanner. Mom only called Tyler over. "Tyler, come register your thumbprint so you don't have to memorize a code." I stood to the side, my eyes full of hope. She noticed me looking. "Oh, Anna. The scanner only holds one fingerprint. Your dad and I can't even use it." I refused to give up. "Then what's the master code?" Mom awkwardly looked away. "There is no master code. They generate randomly. It's for security. If I gave you a permanent code, you might accidentally tell your friends, and what if we get robbed?" But Tyler was the one who lost keys! Tyler was the one who brought random friends over! I swallowed the words I wanted to scream, and gave a weak, pathetic nod. Mom was already abused by Dad and disrespected by Tyler. She had it hard enough. I needed to be the easy child. From that day on, every time I wanted to come home, I had to beg her to text me a temporary PIN. I tried to beg them to let me live in the dorms for college. When Mom heard that, her eyes turned red. "Dorms cost thousands of dollars extra a semester! Your father will beat me if I ask for that kind of money! The campus is only thirty minutes away... Anna, can't you just run a little faster?" I felt incredibly guilty. I never brought it up again. But the temporary PIN was only valid for thirty minutes, and the countdown started the exact second she texted it. My campus was thirty minutes away on a good day. It meant I had to sprint like my life depended on it. When my last class ended, I was the first one out the door, sprinting to the bus stop. If I missed the bus, I ran the entire way home. I ran until my lungs felt like they were bleeding, my clothes soaked in sweat. Even then, there were times I didn't make it. When the code expired, I would stand on the porch and ring the doorbell. Mom was always conveniently "not home." Dad and Tyler were inside, but they would never open the door for me. So I would sit on the concrete porch doing my homework. When I got too tired, I would drape my jacket over my shoulders, curl into a ball, and sleep outside for the night. For all these years, I had been lying to myself. What if the person who wanted to keep me locked out... was my mother all along? I decided to stay the night at Liam's apartment. Mrs. Carter specifically set up the guest room for me. The sheets were brand-new, powder-blue Egyptian cotton, incredibly soft to the touch. The pajamas were new, too. Simple, but the fabric felt like a cloud. It was a violent, jarring contrast to my home, where I slept in scratchy, faded clearance-rack pajamas on a mattress with torn bedsheets. I sat on the edge of the plush guest bed, staring at the wall. Thirty minutes had passed a long time ago. Mom didn't reach out. No missed calls. No texts. I opened Instagram and posted a photo dump. The massive, beautiful dinner Mrs. Carter cooked, the pristine guest room, and a mirror selfie in my brand-new pajamas. Less than five minutes after I hit post, my phone exploded. It was Mom. "Anna, what the hell is that post?! Where are you?!" "At a friend's house." "Which friend?! A boy or a girl?! A young woman staying out overnight?! Get your ass home right now!" Her tone was shockingly frantic. It sounded like something had finally slipped out of her absolute control. I spoke completely flatly. "Didn't my curfew expire? You want me to come back and sleep on the concrete porch?" "Then sleep on the concrete! That's your punishment for missing curfew!" The moment she said it, she realized she had slipped up. She quickly pivoted back to her usual act. "I mean, it's dangerous for a girl to be out all alone at night! Mommy is just worried about you!" "Hurry up and come home! I'll make an exception and send you one more passcode today. If your dad yells at me, I'll just take the blame..." I cut her off. "Mom. When I was in high school, there was a serial assaulter roaming our neighborhood. Do you remember?" She froze. "...Why are you bringing that up?" "I was late getting home from school that day. The passcode had already expired. No one would open the door for me. I was so terrified of being seen on the porch that I slept behind the community dumpsters all night." The line went completely dead silent. "Were you really worried about my safety?" "Weren't you afraid I was going to be murdered right outside our front door?" Silence. My heart turned to absolute ice. I was about to hang up. But suddenly, I heard the sound of plates violently shattering in the background. Then, Dad's muffled, enraged roar: "What the hell are you doing?!" Mom's voice broke into a terrified sob. "Anna, please, help me..." The call was violently disconnected. I shot up from the bed. Liam jumped in surprise. "Anna, what's wrong?" I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. "I have to go back. I think my mom is in trouble." Liam immediately grabbed his keys. "I'm coming with you!" "No. This is my family's mess." The entire Uber ride home, my heart hammered against my ribs. Childhood memories of Dad beating Mom until she sobbed flashed before my eyes. She used to hold me in the dark, whispering, "Anna, you're all Mommy has left," and "As soon as I save up enough money, we're leaving him." I believed those words for a decade. Even if I was cutting ties with her, I had to make sure she was okay first! I sprinted from the drop-off point to my familiar front door and pounded on the wood. No response. Not a single sound from inside. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It rang fifteen times before she finally picked up. "Hello?" Her voice sounded incredibly relaxed. She was actually laughing. I froze. "Mom, are you... are you okay?" "Oh, I'm perfectly fine! I just accidentally dropped a plate earlier and your dad yelled at me." I gripped my phone. My throat went completely dry. A wave of profound, suffocating exhaustion washed over me. I had been played for a fool. "Are you at home right now?" Her next sentence completely shattered my reality. "No... we're heading out for a family vacation! Your dad said he's been super stressed at work and needs to unwind." "We already bought the plane tickets. We're in the Uber heading to the airport right now! Oh, and I have your debit card with me, so don't worry, it's safe." The very next second, my phone vibrated. Push notifications from my banking app. Charge: Delta Airlines. Charge: Marriott Hotels. Charge: Uber. I made a decent salary at my corporate job. Over the last two years, I had saved up nearly twenty thousand dollars. Because Mom constantly played the victim, crying about how Dad controlled all the finances and wouldn't give her a dime, I had secretly given her my debit card so she could buy groceries and things for herself. I never, ever intended for Dad and Tyler to touch a single cent of it. Let alone fund their luxury vacation! I needed to call the bank and freeze the card immediately. But my driver's license and passport were locked inside my bedroom. I stared at the banking alerts. My breathing grew heavy. "When are you coming back?" "Next week! Gotta go, we're boarding!" "Wait!" I yelled frantically. "I need to get into the house to grab my ID! Give me the master code!" Mom paused. "Code? What code?" "The front door code!" Mom's voice instantly morphed back into that pathetic, helpless, victimized tone. "I told you, the smart lock generates random codes. I gave you one yesterday, but the app is glitching today and won't give me a new one." "You're lying! Liam's house has a permanent master code! Why doesn't ours?!" Mom's voice cracked into a fake sob. "Other people's houses are different from ours!" "Anna, have you been listening to outsiders poisoning your mind against me? Have I not been a good mother to you? I raised you from a baby..." I had heard this exact speech hundreds of times. Right now, I felt nothing but absolute disgust. "Enough. Give me the code." She snapped, dropping the act entirely. "If I say there isn't one, there isn't one! We won't be back until next week! Figure it out yourself! You have someone else giving you a bed anyway!" With that, she hung up. Listening to the dead dial tone, standing outside the house I grew up in, I felt every ounce of strength drain from my body. For my entire life, I had been lying to myself. Lying to myself that my mother loved me, she just didn't know how to show it. Lying to myself that she was a helpless victim who needed my protection. But now, the final, pathetic illusion had been completely ripped away. She didn't love me. She never did. I wiped my face aggressively, pulled out my phone, and Googled local 24-hour locksmiths. A guy in a heavy canvas jacket arrived twenty minutes later. In less than five minutes, the smart lock that had kept me prisoner for a decade was easily bypassed. I walked in, grabbed my ID from my drawer, proved my residency to the locksmith, and handed him a massive cash tip. "Please wipe all the existing passcodes and fingerprints from the system." "Then, re-program it. Register my fingerprint only, and set a brand-new master code." The locksmith saw the dead, hollow look in my eyes. He hesitated for a second, but did exactly as I asked. Ten minutes later, the lock was completely wiped and reset. I registered my thumbprint. I set a brand-new master code. A code that only I knew. Next stop: The bank. Freezing the debit card and ordering a replacement was quick. The bank teller noticed how incredibly pale I was and gently asked if I needed any help. I shook my head, signing the final piece of paperwork. By the time I walked out of the bank, the sun had set. I stood on the bustling city street, watching the headlights blur into traffic, and suddenly had absolutely no idea where to go. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Liam: "Anna, how are things? Do you need me to come pick you up?" I stared at the text. My eyes burned. So there was still someone in this world who cared if I had a place to go. When I got back to Liam's apartment, the dam finally broke. I collapsed into his arms and sobbed hysterically. Mrs. Carter handed me a glass of warm water, while Liam gently rubbed my back. Neither of them interrupted. They just sat with me and let me cry. I don't know how long I cried, but I didn't stop until my voice was completely hoarse. Right at that moment, my phone rang. It was Mom. I took a deep breath, hit accept, and put it on speakerphone. "ANNA!" Mom's voice blasted through the speaker. It wasn't relaxed anymore. It was vibrating with pure, unadulterated rage. "What the hell did you do?! Why is the card declining?!" "Go to the bank and unfreeze it right now! Your brother wants to buy souvenirs! He found a crystal sculpture he wants, it's three grand! Wire the money to my account immediately!" I spoke with eerie, absolute calmness. "I reported the card stolen." The line went dead silent for three seconds before exploding into a hysterical scream, laced with the panic of losing absolute control. "STOLEN?! How did you report it stolen?! Your ID is locked inside the house!" "Want to know how? Come home and find out." I hung up the phone. I opened my contacts list and permanently blocked all three of their numbers. When I was done, I looked up at Liam and Mrs. Carter. They were both staring at me, their expressions incredibly complex. I forced a bitter, broken smile. "Mrs. Carter. Liam. You've seen what a disaster my family is." "A family that worships their golden-boy son and treats their daughter like trash. If I stay tied to them, my future is just going to be bleeding myself dry to pay for my deadbeat brother's life." "If this is too much drama for you guys, I completely understand. I can pack my things and leave right now. I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess." I lowered my head, biting my lip to stop it from trembling, waiting for the inevitable rejection. Suddenly, Mrs. Carter stood up and marched right up to me. Her normally stern face was flushed red with fury. But it wasn't directed at me. "What kind of mother treats her own flesh and blood like that?! 'Temporary passcodes' my ass! What absolute bullshit!" She pointed a furious finger at my phone, her voice shaking with rage. "Stealing her daughter's hard-earned savings to fund a luxury vacation, while literally locking her child out on the street like a stray dog?! What kind of psychopathic monsters are they?!" I was stunned. Liam pulled me into his arms, patting my head like I was a startled kitten. "Mom, you're scaring Anna." Mrs. Carter got even angrier. "I am furious! Such a sweet, hardworking girl, being tortured by those leeches! It's a miracle she survived this long!" She glared at Liam. "What the hell are you standing around for?!" Liam let out a quick "Oh!" and pulled his wallet from his pocket. He slid a sleek debit card out and pressed it directly into my palm. I was completely bewildered. "What is this..." Liam looked at me with absolute sincerity. "My debit card. The PIN is your birthday." "From now on, my money is your money. And your money is your money." Mrs. Carter chimed in from the side. "My son makes a very solid salary. Adding his income to yours, you guys can easily save up a down payment for a condo in two years. We'll put the deed entirely in your name. Then you'll finally have a home that's truly yours." I held the plastic card in my hands, looking at the mother and son in front of me. The tears surged up again. So this is what a real family looks like. Mrs. Carter saw me crying and immediately put her stern face back on. "Stop crying! Wipe your tears! Your psychotic parents are definitely not going to let this go. We need to prepare for war." I nodded heavily and wiped my face. The next day, Liam and I hired a moving company and drove back to the house I had lived in for over twenty years. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. The massive guest room belonged to Tyler. I lived in a makeshift, windowless storage space partitioned off from the living room. It held a twin bed and a cheap canvas wardrobe. Liam looked around the claustrophobic space, his jaw clenching. "You slept here?" I nodded casually. "Yeah. Since middle school." He clenched his fists, saying nothing. I started packing, but I owned almost nothing of value. I took a few stacks of books, my diplomas, my birth certificate, birthday gifts from my friends, and the very first expensive lipstick I bought with my own paycheck. Everything I owned in the world fit into two suitcases. The movers took my things to Liam's apartment for temporary storage until I could find my own place. That night, Liam and I sat on his couch, excitedly scrolling through Zillow listings. But right after dinner, a violent, aggressive pounding echoed from his front door. Liam and I exchanged a tense look. A heavy sense of dread settled in my stomach. I told him to call the building security immediately. Sure enough, a familiar, shrill voice screamed from the hallway. "ANNA! GET OUT HERE! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" When we opened the door, Mom was standing there, radiating fury. Dad and Tyler were nowhere in sight. "Anna! What the hell did you do to the smart lock?! Why did my master code of ten years suddenly stop working?!" I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Ten years? Mom, didn't you swear to me that the lock didn't have a master code?"
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