In the end, the Miller's car never came.

The security guard gave me a ride.

It was after midnight when I got back to the Miller's house.

My phone still had no messages.

The lights of the house were shining bright, and you could hear the laughter and chatter from outside.

I didn't question them.

If the maid hadn’t opened the door, I might have stayed outside forever.

"Wow, what happened to you?

You look terrible.

Your clothes are all dirty."

Ashley burst out as soon as she saw me.

Mom didn't seem to believe it either.

"Ryan, have you lost a lot of weight?"

Why, in just five years, had I gone from a somewhat beefy young man to someone who barely weighed 80 pounds?

Dad's eyes showed a hint of pity.

He immediately told the housekeeper to cook something for me to eat.

"We were going to pick you up, but Brandon wasn't feeling well, so we…"

I knew.

This was their special way of making amends.

They could neglect me, put me down, and not have to worry about whether I was sad.

Afterwards, they’d give me a treat to make me forget the pain.

In the past, I would’ve been ecstatic.

But now, I didn't care.

I was about to say something when Ashley interrupted.

"It's just a guilt trip.

He's probably pretending to be pitiful so you feel bad for him.

Then he can stay here!"

Mom huffed and turned to me with a kind and gentle look.

"Anyway, we haven't found your real parents, so you can live here.

You can call me Mom, just like before.

I still think of you as my son!"

"It's okay, Mrs. Miller.

I'm grateful that you're taking me in!"

That polite form of address was more than just words.

It had placed a chasm between the two of us, people who had once been as close as a person could be with their mother.

Mom couldn't hold back.

Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

I wasn't the arrogant son she once knew.

I should complain.

I should rant about how they'd abandoned me all these years.

Anything would have been better than this pathetic and meek version of myself.

Brandon visibly trembled when he saw me, as if he'd seen something terrifying.

After a while, Brandon finally gathered the courage to hold out his hand.

"Ryan, let's shake on it!"

I stood there, stunned.

I’d never argued with him, so why would we "shake on it?"

Five years ago, I’d just started college.

Like always, whenever I was in a new place, I would stake my claim on Emily.

Emily was my fiancée.

I loved her, and, being the Miller family's oldest son, I’d always been arrogant.

Naturally, I couldn’t stand any guys who looked at her the wrong way.

Brandon was one of them.

Brandon had grown up in an orphanage.

For some reason, the cold and aloof Emily always seemed to pay special attention to him.

Even my sister, who was always on my side, turned against me.

I confronted Brandon once.

After that, Brandon started facing various forms of bullying at school.

Everyone said that I couldn't stand him.

Near the end of the semester, Brandon finally snapped and jumped from the top of the school building.

They saved him.

He wasn't hurt.

But he left a suicide note.

It was full of accusations against me!

No one believed me.

Emily broke up with me.

I thought that was the worst it could get.

Then, they announced that I wasn't the Miller's real son.

The real son turned out to be Brandon.

As for where my real parents were?

No one told me!

In one night, I fell from heaven to hell.

In the end, the family I’d known for over twenty years sent me to a mental hospital.

A place worse than prison.

"I don't want to worry the family.

I don't care what you did to me.

It's all in the past."

"If you promise not to upset Mom and Dad, I can treat you like a brother!"