When My Family Chose a Stranger, I Gave Up On Them Novel – As I picked up my final round of my antidepressant prescription and prepared to leave, I ran into my biological parents—they were here to give a lecture. Five years have passed, yet Silas recognized me instantly, his voice trembled with disbelief. “Your illness… it’s still not better?” I said nothing, just kept walking toward my hospital room.
“How did you end up like this?” Silas’ eyes glistened with pain as he looked at me, his voice cracking. “Stella, your mom and sister miss you so much. Come home with me.” I froze abruptly, yanking up the long sleeves I wore year-round—even in summer heat. “That’s your home. I stopped being part of your family long ago” Hundreds of deep, jagged scars crisscrossed both my forearms—evidence of countless suicide attempts, endless hospital rescues, and nights of agony that had eroded every last bit of love or hatred I’d once felt for them.
Now, I was finally breaking free from the darkness. I had a new family. All I wanted was to live what remained of my life in peace. Silas abandoned the stunned group of medical interns and hurried after me. “The psychiatric hospital said you vanished after being rushed in with life-threatening injuries,” he pressed, his voice urgent. “Stella, where have you been all these years?” “They said you stabbed yourself in the abdomen. Why would you do something so terrible to yourself?” His eyes were red-rimmed as he reached for my arm, but the rough, uneven texture of my scars made him jerk back as if shocked by electricity.
Listening to his questions, I felt absolutely nothing—no anger, no sorrow, not even a flicker of recognition. I quickened my pace, desperate to cut ties with him once and for all. “This is a public place,” I said flatly, as if speaking to a stranger. “If you don’t want people wondering what a ‘crazy woman’ like me has to do with the world-famous Dr. Carter, stop following me.” Accustomed to adoration and deference, Silas looked stunned by my coldness. “Stella… are you still mad at us?” Once, I’d been Daddy’s little shadow—crying if I didn’t see him for more than ten minutes.
After I’d sunk into severe depression, I’d clung to my parents even more, refusing to leave the house or interact with anyone else. They’d been my only lifeline… until they weren’t. Just then, several doctors spotted Silas and swarmed around him, blocking my path. “Congratulations, Professor Carter!” one gushed. “You and Daphne have won another Emerson Psychology Prize—you’re truly unrivaled in the country!” “I heard your daughter just won the Winslow Art Award with one of her old paintings,” another added, envy evident in their voice. “How lucky you are to have such a gifted child!” Silas’s gaze darted to me, his smile awkward and guilty.
I just checked my watch, expressionless. “She… earned it herself,” he said, eager to change the subject. But the others didn’t notice his discomfort. “By the way, isn’t your daughter’s wedding to Heath Vanderbilt scheduled for next month? We’d be honored to attend—any chance we could share in your joy?” My heart twinged. Awards. A fiancé. I glanced down at myself—wearing a faded, pilled T-shirt and jeans that still carried the faint smell of grease. Those things had never belonged to me. Not really.
Finally, I spotted an opening and walked quickly away. “Stella!” Silas pushed through the surprised crowd and chased after me. “I know you resent us,” he said, his voice softening with remorse. “But we had no choice back then… Ciara doesn’t blame you anymore. Come home.” I traced the scars on my arm—hundreds of raised, discolored marks that told the story of a hundred near-death experiences. “No choice.” “Doesn’t blame me.” How ridiculous. At long last, I reached my hospital room.
I let out a shaky breath, relieved to escape. “Bang!” I stepped inside and slammed the door shut, locking it immediately. My roommate, Luna Moore—who’d fought alongside me through the worst of our depression—stared out the window, her mouth agape. “Oh my god! That’s Professor Carter!” she exclaimed. “Stella, since when do you know such a famous medical expert?” She hopped out of bed, heading for the door. “Let him in! If you’d known him sooner, you might have recovered ages ago.” As she passed me, I grabbed her arm, my knuckles turning white.
“Don’t open it.” If I’d never known them—if they’d never abandoned me—my pain would have never existed at all.