Unbroken by Emma Fawkes

head. I almost never swear, especially in her presence. And I don’t think I’ve sworn directly at her once in my entire life. All of that restraint is worth it now, just to see the look of utter shock on her face.
    “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
    “Of course you don’t, mother,” I say, the smile slipping from my face. “You’re too self-absorbed to understand other people’s feelings.”
    “That’s not true,” she says angrily. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into you. Cameron has taken this fine—like a mature adult. I met him the other day, and he was perfectly polite.”
    “Screw Cameron,” I shout. “This isn’t about Cameron right now. It’s about you and me. It’s about how you never seem to care at all about my feelings.”
    “How can you say that?” she snaps. “I care. I’ve paid for all of your education—a very expensive and useless education at that. All so you could be a nurse. A nurse ! But I did it. And I ask you for one thing. One thing , and it’s suddenly too much for you.” She turns and walks towards the front door. Opening it, she looks back over her shoulder. “You will be at that wedding, Camilla—and the reception.”
    With that, she’s gone. And I’m left alone with my rage. I want to scream and shout and punch something. I’m mad at my mother—my inconsiderate, selfish mother. But even more so, I’m mad at Cameron, I have to admit to myself.
    I never really expect anything less that complete self-involvement from my mother. That’s how she’s always been. But Cameron… in the short time I’d known him, I came to admire him—maybe even love him. He’d seemed so genuine and sweet. And yet, when his father had told him to break up with me, he hadn’t even blinked an eye. In fact, he’s been “perfectly polite” about everything, if my mother is to be believed.
    I want to throttle him. I am so angry that I have half a mind to attend the wedding simply so I could make a scene. I could confront him in front of all the fancy, important guests. I could yell at him about breaking up with me. I could let the world know that I’d slept with my soon-to-be stepbrother. Not only that, but that my own mother had expected me to readily sacrifice my own happiness to protect her image and her career.
    This isn’t a realistic fantasy. I am not one for making a public spectacle of myself. But the thought puts a smile on my face. I can’t help but imagine the faces of the crowd. I laugh, wondering what would happen if the world knew the real Sabrina Hamilton. How many votes would she get then?

    W hen I check my phone during my break later that evening, I’m surprised to find four missed calls from Madi.
    “Mom must have called her,” I say aloud.
    “What?” Linda asks, peering up from her stack of paperwork.
    “Nothing,” I say, collecting my purse. “I’m going on my break. Be back in an half an hour.”
    “Have fun,” Linda replies, not even bothering to look up again as I make my way towards the elevators.
    After grabbing a snack from the cafeteria, I curl up on a bench in the courtyard to enjoy the cool summer evening, and call my sister back.
    “Milly,” Madi says, answering halfway through the first ring. “What is going on?”
    “What do you mean?” I ask, nibbling at my sandwich.
    “Mom called me this morning in tears. She said you’d had a fight—that you’d yelled and cussed at her.”
    “Nice try, Madi,” I say. “But we both know mother doesn’t cry.”
    “I swear, Milly,” Madi says, her voice serious. “She was crying.”
    “Yeah, well, she didn’t seem too sad when she was at my apartment. Angry, yeah, but not sad.”
    “What happened, why was she mad?”
    “Ugh,” I say, collecting my thoughts. “I guess you were there for the beginning—in the restaurant.”
    “Yeah, what happened with that?”
    “Well, Cameron’s dad actually succeeded in convincing him to break up with me. So I hadn’t really