The sun shines through her floral-printed curtains as she tries to ignore the fact that her alarm for school is about to go off. Her luxurious, full-size bed is far too warm and inviting to leave; it is practically begging her to stay. Abigail Burgess is the luckiest girl in the world, and she knows it. The comforter covering her is so silky that she fights to take it off, and taking her heat with her, but her parents don't like it when she ignores her alarm. So, she forced that warm comforter off her and reached for her alarm before it could reach her. She got up and looked in the mirror that highlighted her warm olive skin, which featured the hickies her boyfriend Derek left as a present for her on both sides of her neck. It made her smile to herself as she felt excited just thinking about him. A goofy smile spread across her face as she remembered their passionate make-out session last night. He always told her what he liked about her, but she wished the rest of her wasn't as chubby, but at least Derek didn't seem to mind.

She started to comb her hair with her wide-tooth comb before she straightened it. Why was she cursed with this frizz? Especially, when the rest of her family didn't have thick curls as she did, and it made her wonder why she was cursed with them. Abigail wished that she had the body and hair like her favorite singer, who was on every poster in her room, that showed her love of pop. She put on a spaghetti string top, a definite win for Derek, who chose her over all the girls in her grade. He could see any girl that he wanted, but he chose her, and his dark green eyes were things of a dream when they were on her, and she loved his light brown, messy hair, and golden tanned skin. She was hoping he would forget that she was a virgin.

She covered her top with a light cable knit turtle sweater that was in her favorite color, lavender, and a cute skirt, to hide the marks. Hopefully, Derek would meet before first period. Before heading downstairs, she applied a light layer of lip gloss.

In the kitchen, her mom, Vivienne, with her signature red hair like many on her side of the family, was preparing breakfast, and her dad, Patrick loved a whole spread of bacon, eggs, and toast as he read the paper. Vivienne set a plate in front of her dad before giving him a quick kiss, which he smiled at her like she was hung from the moon, and Abigail could see why, especially with how small she was, the freckles that made her look like a model, and just... awesome.

"Here is your plate, Abigail." Vivienne placed her plate in front of her.

"Thanks, Mom," she smiled, before digging in.

"How was the meeting yesterday, dear?" Vivienne asks her dad.

"A wreck, you think that I was talking about logo blocks, and not about medicine." Her dad's short brown hair looked almost blond under the light, as he rolled his eyes like Quinn would when they complained about homework.

"Abigail, did you finish your homework?" her dad asked.

She most definitely did not; she got distracted by daydreaming about her boyfriend and making a YouTube or TikTok video.

"I'm almost done, I just want to ask my friend about the end." She gave a half-truth.

Sometimes, she wondered why she didn't look more like her parents, but then she decided it didn't matter. What matters is keeping Derek happy so he stays her boyfriend, and being cute and trendy like her friends, rather than being academic or responsible. She was going to text him when she got to her car, so he knew that she was still thinking about him, and that way, he would have time to change his mind about her.

"That sounds like a good plan," her mom smiled.

"Thanks, Mom."

Her parents fell into an easy discussion about her dad's work, as she scrolled through her friend's social media, thinking about video ideas that could make her an influencer, and if her followers would like the outfit that she was wearing, even though it was for Derek. Despite wanting to give him everything, she hoped that it didn't make her look like she was easy online, especially considering she was still a virgin.

"You'd better go off to school, Abigail, you don't want to be late," Patrick said as he set down the newspaper.

"You're right, I'd better grab my bag," she replied.

"Here's that coffee money I promised," Vivienne handed her some cash.

"Thanks, Mom." Her parents were wonderful. "See you soon!"

Abigail was so ready to take a nap and get over this day. School was so tiring and boring at the same time; her backpack was heavy with the books and homework she didn't want to deal with, and she was counting the minutes until she opened her front door. The only good part of school was being with Derek and hanging out with her friends, besides being able to drive her blue hybrid Volkswagen to and from what felt like education prison. Pulling up to her spot in the drive away, she noticed that her dad was home way earlier than he normally would be. Which was really odd, but maybe he was sick like he had been during COVID.

Opening up the front door, she was hit with the smell of peanut butter and chocolate cookies, which was something that her mom only made for special occasions. But she didn't know any special occasions that were happening, so it sounded like laughter and chatter coming from inside caught her off guard. Abigail had a feeling of displacement that she couldn't explain, and she didn't like it. So, she made her way to the kitchen, where the noise was coming from.

There was a girl her age between her parents, who both had never looked more in love than they did with this stranger, who looked at them as if they were the answer to her prayers. The girl with the same red hair as her mom sat small between them, in a dress that gave her cottagecore vibes, especially with the sunflower and daisy pattern on the dress. Whatever this was, it screamed like it was not good news for her. The stranger with her family's hair looked sweet and kind, which made it worse. And what made this devastating was that she looked more like she belonged than Abigail did.

"I'm so sorry you lost them, but we are so grateful that you are now where you belong." Vivienne brushed the identical red hair of the stranger next to her.

“And I’m so grateful that you both are allowing me into your lives, especially when you already have a daughter,” she said in a soft, musical voice that didn’t match how drop-dead beautiful she was.

"You don't need to worry about that. There is no comparison," her dad’s eyes lit upwhen he smiled at the girl.

The girl looked sad but happy at the same time, but all Abigail wanted to know was what she was doing in her house and in her spot in the family.

"What's going on? And who is sitting in my seat?" She had to know.

"Oh my," her mom exclaimed and almost looked ashamed.

"Well, it's kind of a long story, Abigail," her dad started.

"I should go," the stranger said, looking down.

"No, you're here to stay, dear," her mom said as she ran the back of her hand down the girl's freckled face.

Dear? They didn't call her dear or anything but her name. Why was this stranger so special?

"I don’t understand," Abigail questioned.

"This is April. She had been living with the people she thought were her parents until a few months ago," Patrick answered.

"Thought?" Please don't she prayed, "What do you mean by thought?"

"Well, Abigail, our dear April was switched at birth," Vivienne leaning into April as if to hold her close.

There was that word again, dear.

"What does that have to do with our family?" Abigail said, but at this point, she knew; she just didn't want to expect it.

"April is our daughter," Patrick said, and he might as well have stabbed her in the heart.

"Excuse me? What about me?" she couldn't help but ask. It was like the world fell off its axis, and everything was wrong.

"I'm not trying to replace you," April said softly as tears filled her eyes.

"Replace me?" She repeated, the word replace echoing in her mind.

Because that was exactly what it felt like, her parents had gotten someone new.

"If she’s your daughter, then what does that make me? Are you getting rid of me?" She was freaked out.

"You will always be our child, and we would never get rid of you, Abigail. We love you," her mom replied.

"Everything will be fine," her dad added, and he saying it like a promise.

Dwindling Safety

After the betrayal of her parents, Abigail started to spiral. At first, it was just being rude to her parents and to April. Then she was skipping school and coming home after curfew. She started hanging out with the kinds of people she would have always avoided. Abigail attended parties, got drunk, and stayed out ’till the crack of dawn. All of this was to numb the sense of betrayal that felt like it had blown a hole through her heart. By this point she had become the terror of her household. Abigail would regularly get into screaming matches with her parents; sometimes she would punch holes in the walls or throw things at them. Many of these fights ended with the police being called. Abigail continued to spiral—more fights, more missed classes. Nothing made sense to her, until that night…

Abigail was at one of her usual parties. There was loud music, people playing drinking games, and a general air of young adult angst. Kayla—one of Aprils new friends—came up to her. All of the losers she used to hang out with at school stopped talking to her, citing concerns over her “mood” and “drinking problems.” It’s fine, she didn’t need them anyway; all they ever did was hold her back.
Kayla gestures emphatically. “Look what I got.” she opened her hand, revealing two blue pills.
“No way—where’d you get those?
“From that guy over there. He said the first ones are free!”
Score! Abigail thought to herself. She took one of the pills. “On the count of three. One, two, three!” They popped the pills, washing them down with beer. Nothing happened at first; Then Abigail started to feel weird. The world seemed to slow down around her. Everything started to glow with an intense fervor. The world was a beautiful place in this moment. Time seemed to slow down as if she was in her own little bubble.
Abigail looked over at Kayla, who seemed to be having the same experience. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping. “You’re–going–to–drool on yourself. Abigail started giggling. Kayla followed suit until the two of them were a maniacal mess. The music suddenly seemed like the best sound ever. The two of them started dancing like there was no tomorrow. This was the time of Abigail’s life. She finally understood. Everything made sense in this moment.
“I have to–pee.” Kayla said as she stumbled off.
Abigail had begun to realize how tired she was. She shambled toward the corner of the large living room, plopping down on a sectional. Despite the euphoria, her body felt weird. The bass thumped through her like she’s made of jello.
“Hi.” A voice said next to her.
Abigail turned to discover Derek was sitting next to her. She blinked her fuzzy eyes. No. Not Derek. This boy doesn’t even look like him; although, he does look as wiped as she felt. His eyes are half open as if he’s nodding off. He sit’s rather limply next to her. The boy’s face shifts to a puzzled expression, and Abigail realized she was just staring at him, mouth agape. She tightened her jaw, willing feeble words to form. “Hi.” Only now, did Abigail register how attractive this boy is. Maybe it’s just the drugs. Everything did look quite pretty right now.
Abigail couldn’t get the image of Derek out of her head. Ever since he broke up with her, she's been doing her best to distract herself. An idea started to form in her mind—a way to get back at Derek.
Abigail decided honesty was the best policy; boys were simple. “Do you want to have sex?”
The boy looked rather taken aback. “I don’t even know your name.”
Although he seemed ambivalent, Abigail could tell her preposition had intrigued him; There was a glint in his eye—she’d seen the same one in Derek the day they met. And he already appeared to be pitching a small tent in his pants. “You don’t need to.”
“I don’t even have to get you a drink first?”
“Nope.” Abigail grabbed his hand, leading him upstairs to find an empty bedroom. Once she located one, she pulled him inside, pushing the door shut behind them.
There’s one thing Abigail is sure of: when she leaves this room she’ll no longer be a virgin. Abigail had wanted it to be Derek; but he made his choice, now he had to live with it.

Trying Times

Lies, pills, and forgotten nights. This had become Abigail’s way of life since the night she lost her virginity. She was nineteen now. She had left her parent's house on her eighteenth birthday. At first, she slept on peoples couches. Until she wore through her welcomes. Then it was park benches, homeless shelters, etc. Abigail couldn’t keep track of the amount of shelters she’d been thrown from.

One night she was hanging with a couple of her friends at their tent camp under the on-ramp of a highway. Abigail was snorting a crushed Vicodin. She couldn’t go a day anymore without some kind of drug. Even she was embarrassed by the lengths she had gone to get high. The familiar feeling crept into her as she relaxed into bliss.
“Someday…” Anita said, turning her phone around for Kayla and Abigail to see.
Through the cracks and dead pixels on the screen, Abigail could see the image of a resort on a tropical island—blue water, endless sand, and excessive sun.
Kayla laughed “Yeah right. You hate flying.”
“Well…” Anita got quiet. “I’ll take a boat! There gotta be boat rides to those kinda places, right? Just imagine it.” Anita closed her eyes “The sand in your toes, the sun in your hair, the warm breeze. I can feel it already.”
The only thing Abigail could feel were the drugs in her system, and the warmth of the fire they had built as it crackled in the metal bin.
“It’s a good dream. Hold on to it," Kayla affirms. “We all need a good dream…”
Abigail broke her silence. “What’s your dream Kayla?”
Kayla takes a moment before answering. “I’d live somewhere near the woods so I could walk the forest at sunrise. I’d have a boyfriend too, a guy with a sweet smile who pays attention to the small things.”
“What about you Abigail?”
Abigail considered the question with a contemplative expression. “I’d find a family again.”
Her answer stifled the discussion like a cup over a candle; they all fell into silence.

Abigail woke up in her tent the next morning. The air is chilly, but not too cold. She takes her time getting out of the tent. One of the nice things about being homeless is the lack of urgency. Abigail still remembered school, getting up early, spending long hours learning things she already forgot. Now It’s like the world had forgotten her, like she doesn’t even exist.
Abigail decides to take a walk to the nearest convince store. She’d found a few bucks in her pocket—enough for some food. The walk isn’t particularly dangerous, but Abigail has to cross a stroad. People speed all the time, only to slam on their brakes when a traffic light turns red. In her time on the fringes of society, she’s observed many erratic behaviors, things she never saw before when she was too close. How people suddenly find the dashboards of their cars very interesting when they see her next to a road with a sign. Restaurants and grocery stores throw away enough food to end the hunger crisis, but not till the end of the day—that doesn't help her now. She must buy her way out of this hunger.
She walked up to the curb of the stroad, cars were whizzing buy at forty miles an hour. Abigail waited a minute or two before she saw a gap in traffic. She ran. First lane. Second lane. Her feet landed on the median—half way. She waited for another gap. The sun peaked out, occluding the chilly morning. The next gap in traffic came. Running. First lane. There’s a car barreling down the lane she’s about to cross. She misjudged its speed. Still running. The car got closer. Abigail’s feet hit the curb as the car swished past, honking furiously. Because It would be entirely too much to help her cross safely, wouldn’t it? She thought. Now Abigail was in the clear, walking through the parking lot. She emerged from between a row of cars, turning her head to look left. By the time Abigail heard it, the car had already hit her. Abigail’s head hit the pavement; the world turned black.

Back To The Basics

After the incident, Abigail had awoken in the hospital. The doctors informed her the injuries sustained weren’t severe; they also gave her resources to get off the street and the drugs. Abigail had been offered these things before, but something felt different now. The incident changed things for her.
After Abigail was discharged, she got into rehab. Her friends had gotten mad at her when she tried to convince them to come with. And so it was, Abigail shed another friend group, noticing a similarity to her school friends when she was sixteen. Abigail learned something that day: people liked the version of you they knew, not the one you grew into.
After rehab, Abigail consulted with a lawyer who was willing to work for a percentage of the settlement against the driver who hit her. She used the money to get an apartment—some security for the first in a long time.

One day Abigail was sitting on the balcony of her apartment, sipping some lemonade on a particularly hot day. She was learning to enjoy life alone; people just caused unnecessary drama anyway. Addiction still plagued her, but she'd been sober since rehab. She still had bad days, but they’re becoming less frequent.
These last six months since she got the settlement have been the best of her adulthood. Abigail's been able to reconnect with the hobbies she'd enjoyed in childhood and explore herself in a new way.
As she sits serenely on her celestial seat in the heat, It hits Abigail so thoroughly she feels like a moron. How had she not seen this sooner? The people Abigail had thought were her parents forsook her, all of her friends left, even her boyfriend was gone. The only people Abigail never knew were true DNA relatives, people she shared a blood bond with. Of course, it seems so obvious now!

Abigail ran back inside, abandoning her lemonade on the balcony table. She located her laptop, excitement mounting as she opened it, navigating to the web browser. With a few key strokes and some seconds later—“Ah-ha.” She'd found it; a DNA testing website claiming to reveal her ancestry, and allowing communication with living relatives also on the site. The price wasn't bad, but Abigail would pay anything for this knowledge. She ordered her kit with an elation that could barely be contained.

* * *

Abigail was just getting home from her part time job she’d gotten as a night stocker at Costco. The sun is just beginning to rise. She enters the apartment building, heading straight for her mailbox. Abigail inserts the key with such anticipation that it trembles in her hand; she opens the mailbox. Disappointment washes over her. There’s no package containing the DNA test, just a white envelope. Upon further examination, Abigail discovers the letter is hand addressed to her—the writing looks familiar.

Abigail proceeds to her apartment with mounting curiosity and alarm. Once inside, she opens the envelope with a tentative touch. The letter inside is also written by hand:

Dear Abigail.

I’m not sure what I feel can be adequately conveyed with words, but I will do my best for you. I realize now, that bringing April home without at least discussing it with you did you an egregious harm. I will pay for it the rest of my life. We never wanted you to feel excluded or replaced. I can only imagine the pain we must have caused you.

We never stopped looking for you after you disappeared. Those days were the worst of my life. I could barely sleep, barely eat. Your father's hair started falling out. I had never imagined that the days of you skipping class and coming home drunk could get any worse for us–but they did. For the true misery wasn’t your tortured presence, but your desolate absence.
We did something a parent is never supposed to do, betray a child’s trust. We were too blind to see it when it mattered, and now we’ve lost the thing we held most dear.

I don’t want to put pressure on you, we’ve done that enough. The intention of this is to let you know we never stopped loving you. We failed you, and we failed to get you the help you so desperately needed.

You will forever and always be our daughter.

Vivienne.

Abigail’s world was rocked to its core. She knew she had to stay strong. But for the first time since getting out of rehab; she was unsure in her convictions.