When the Lights Came Back, so did she

Hi all,

Does anyone know where i can find this novel please?

When the Lights Came Back, So Did She 👉 CONTINUE READING 👈 Chapter 1 My mom, Laura Miller, was the true heiress of the Miller family before she was kidnapped into the Appalachian Hills.

And before she was taken, she had already been married and had a two-year-old son.

She was then sold to a man in his late fifties, and I was born from that union.

When I was seven, the Miller family finally came with the police and found their way into the mountains.

Overcome with emotion, she clung desperately to her son, Ethan, now ten years old.

But when her eyes fell on me, her question to the police was cold and simple. “Can I… not take this child back with me?”

I saw my uncle, David Miller, and my ten-year-old brother, Ethan, for the first time then. Their faces were contorted with disgust and rage.

“A child of that bastard? How could the Miller family ever acknowledge her?”

I was consumed by fear, trembling uncontrollably. My small hand secretly fisted a corner of her coat, too terrified to speak or look up.

Cameras flashed everywhere, aimed straight at me.

Along with the police and the Millers, hordes of reporters had also swarmed the village upon hearing the news.

My fingers trembled violently as I gripped my mom’s clothes. Tears pricked my eyes, but I bit them back with all my strength, refusing to let them fall.

The police officer was silent for a long moment before finally responding, his voice heavy with resignation

“Her father colluded with the kidnappers. He’s already been arrested.”

“You are now her only remaining legal guardian.”

The desperate, pleading light in my mother’s eyes died, replaced by utter despair. Then, her control snapped.

“But I don’t want her!”

“Eight years of my life have been destroyed! Must I now take her back and be reminded of that pain for the rest of my life?”

As the words ended, her tears finally fell, her face a mask of anguish and despair. She lifted a hand, perhaps to cover her face, but the movement made her aware of my small hand still clutching her coat.

Her reddened eyes flicked downward, meeting my terrified gaze. And in that instant, she seemed to completely shatter.

For the first time, she struck me.

With a violent shove, she pushed me back hard, her face distorted, her voice trembling.

“I don’t want yu! Don’t you understand? I don’t want you!”

“Stop following me! If no one else will take you, then just die!”

“Why—why should I have to—”

Her voice broke into sobs. The rest of her words never made it out.

I stumbled backward and crashed to the ground, the back of my head slamming against the dirt.

A buzzing filled my skull, my vision blurring for a long moment.

Above me stood countless adults—reporters, police officers, the Miller family.

Every one of them stared down at me with strange eyes, a mixture of scrutiny and disgust.

One of the officers stepped forward, helped me up, and said to my mother sternl, “Ma’am, calm down.”

Yet even his gaze was filled with pity for her.

My uncle David—the man in the suit, my legal guardian—stormed forward, his voice thick with fury as he defended her.

“Why should my sister have to calm down?”

“She has endured eight years of hell! Why should she be forced to raise that monster’s child? Why can’t the girl be sent to an orphanage?”

“Laws should have warmth and humanity!”

And beside her, a ten-year-old boy with refined features—my half-brother, Ethan Miller—clung to our mother’s arms, his voice sharp with anger.

“The Millers will never accept the child of a kidnaper!”

Chapter 2 Even some of the journalists nearby began to protest indignantly.

“Exctly! A child like this shouldn’t be forced on the victim! Taking her home would only cause further harm!”

I stood there in a daze, utterly at a loss, my whole body stiff and numb.

I hung my head. In my line of sight were the scuffed toes of my mother’s worn-out sneakers, and right next to them, the pristine, stylish sneakers of the boy—my brother Ethan.

The buzzing in my head still hadn’t stopped. It ached faintly.

I stuffed my trembling hands into my pockets, not daring to take so much as a step closer to her.

Despite the protests from the journalists and the Millers, the outcome remained unchanged.

In the end, the police handed me over to the Millers, placing me firmly in their custody.

My mom refused to so much as glance at me again. Clutching my ten-year-old brother’s hand, she slid into the back seat of the black car.

A wave of panic seized me, and I scrambled after her. But she didn’t let me in. Instead, she shut the door right in my face.

My uncle, David, paid me no mind either. He was about to get into the car himself when an officer stepped forward and stopped him.

Uncle David let out a cold laugh, his eyes filled with fury and hatred.

He walked to the rear of the car, popped the trunk open, and shot me a look of icy didain. “Get in.”

For a heartbeat, I was stunned—and then, feeling unexpectedly honored and thrilled, I ran over, both eager and anxious.

Before climbing in, I carefully took off my worn-out sneakers, afraid of soiling the pristine interior.

I had never ridden in a car before.

I curled up tightly in the cramped space and dared a cautious glance up at him, perhaps still hoping for a shred of acceptance.

Instead, I saw the police watching him with open disapproval.

Uncle David snorted with deision. “What? Is there a law against a child riding in the trunk?”

The officer frowned, but in the end, he said nothing more.

Uncle David lifted a hand. With a heavy thud, the lid slammed shut. And my world went pith black.

Chapter 3 The car sped down the endless mountin roads, twisting sharply and jolting violently at every turn.

In the suffocating darkness, I felt the world spinning violently around me.

My stomach churned violently; something acidic surged up my throat, desperate to get out.

I frantically patted the car’ bodywork.

“Mom, I—I’m gonna throw up. Please, let me out.”

No one paid me any mind.

My head burned, my body weak and frantic as I kept hitting the metal, crying out for “Mom.”

I must not vomit in the car.

Once, when I was sick with a high fever and accidentally vomited on the floor at home, my father took a thick, heavy wooden stick and hit me hard across the back.

I had lain in bed for days, unable to even walk.

A long time later, I faintly heard my uncle Davi’s voice. “If you dare throw up in the car, forget about ever setting foot in the Miller family!”

The car still didn’t stop. It even sped up, and the jolts became more violent.

Sweat soaked through my clothes until they clung like I’d been dropped into water.

My mind flickered in and out, consciousness slipping. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I finally vomited.

The sour, foul smell quickly filled the narrow space. My mind exploded in panic.

In utter terror, I took off my worn-out coat and frantically wiped at the mess in the darkness.

It’s not dirty, it’s not dirty...If it’s wiped clean, then it’s not dirty.

If I cleaned it up, it wouldn’t count. If it’s not dirty, I can still enter the Miller family, I can still stay with Mom.

She was all I had. Even though deep down, I knew she never liked me.

From the moment I was born, Ray Carter had only ever beaten and cursed at me and my mom.

The only warmth I had ever known was the rare times when Mom stayed by my side.

I kept scrubbing, my movements clumsy, frantic.

Maybe it was the retching. Maybe I’d strained too hard.

I felt a rush of warmth from my nose. It was blood.

I tried to lift my hand to cover it, but my fingers wouldn’t move anymore.

Overwhelmed by severe dizziness, I blacked out.I didn’t know how long had passed before a furious voice dragged me back.

“Get out!”

I jolted awake. The trunk had been flung open, and the car was parked in the driveway of a villa.

Uncle David stood outside, his face like stone, glaring at me. Ethan took one look at me, gagged, and bolted to the side to vomit.

His handsome face twisted in disgust. “So disgusting!”

Night had already fallen, but the courtyard lights shone bright.

Only then did I see myself clearly—my body and the trunk both smeared with vomit, streaked with blood from my nose.

I stammere in panic, “S-sorry. I’ll clean it. I’ll clean everything.”

Uncle David’s frown deepened. He said nothing more and ignored me.

A little girl, about my age, came running out of the villa. She wore a beautiful princess dress and had large eyes.

She looked like a real princess from a castle.

She rushed over happily and clung to y mom’s arm. “Ms. Miller, you’re back!”

Mom froze, staring blankly at her.

Uncle David explained, “This is Chloe Adams. She insisted on coming to pick you up. You held her when she was just born. You said back then that if you ever had a daughter, you hoped she’d be just like Chloe.”

Mom’s eyes reddened. She seemed lost, staring at Chloe as though in a daze.

I lowered my head, staring blankly at my own hands—covered in scars, rough, and ugly.

Chloe happily hugged my mother’s arm, he voice sweet. “Then from now on, I’ll be your goddaughter! And Ethan’s godsister!”

She and Uncle David, one on each side, supported my mother and helped her inside.

Uncle David spoke to her gentlyand pityingly. “This place is close. Stay here tonight. After you’ve rested, we’ll head back to Riverside City.”

“Laura, it’s all over now. Don’t be afraid.”

He hesitated, then added carefully, “Michael said he will return to the country tomorrow. He hopes to remarry you.”

Mom abruptly interrupted him, hr voice urgent. “No!”

Uncle David froze, his body stiff.

Then, gently, he took her hand, comforting her with soft words I couldn’t hear.

But when he turned back, his eyes landed on me with naked loathing.

He lowered his voice slightlyto speak to Mom. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of a way to sen her away soon. The Millers ill not keep her.”

Chapter 4 I climbed out of the trunk and stared blankly at their retreating figures.

A cold wind swept through the late autumn night.

Uncle David drapped a black overcoat over Mom’s shoulders.

I had never seen such a fine coat before. Back in the Appalachain Hills, Mom and I had only ever worn patched-up, worn-out clothes.

My own jacket was already ruined from scrubbing the car. All I had left was just a thin, long-sleeved shirt.

A shiver ran through me, and I lowered my eyes in silence.

Ethan had finished vomiting. When his eyes landed on me—hunched shoulders, filthy and ragged—he looked at me as if I were some filthy, terrifying monster.

He recoiled instantly and hurried inside.

I scrubbed at the trunk for a long time, but no matter how hard I tried, the stains wouldn’t come off.

I thought of going in to ask for a towel. But once Uncle David went inside, he locked the door.

Through the tall glass windows, I saw them sitting at the table for dinner.

The table was covered with dishes—so many dishes. Even through the glass, I could almost smell the delicious aroma.

My stomach growled, sharp with hunger. Pain twisted in my belly. I swallowed hard, forcing the saliva down.

Uncle David kept serving Mom food, while Ethan poured her water and set it by her side.

I couldn’t hear their words, but suddenly, Uncle David reached across and rolled up one of Mom’s sleeves.

He froze, staring at her arm. His hand trembled as he lifted it to wipe his eyes.

Ethan covered his face, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Both Mom’s arms and mine were covered in scars.

Some were from the times Ray bat us while drunk. Some were from cigarette burns he pressed into our skin.

Others came from years of working in the fields, hauling and laboring in the mountains.

Through tears, Ethan leaned close and gently blew across Mom’s arm, as if the small gesture could ease her pain.

Chloe also moved closer, her face full of concern.

Mom’s hands trembled as she pulled both children tightly into her arms.

Just like she used to hold me—before I turned three. After that age, she had never held me again.

I stared at them, dazed, until I finally snapped back to myself.

By then, they had left the dining table and gone upstairs.

The housekeeper cleared away the leftovers—more than half the food still untouched—and dumped them into a large garbage can.

The sight made my chest ache, my stomach growling louder and louder.

When she finished, she tied up the bag and carried it out to the big garbage container in the yard.

After she went back inside, I crept forward on tiptoe and strained to reach into the tall garbage can.

I tried again and again, almost toppling inside myself.

At last, I managed to drag the bag out. The delicious smell of the food hit me,filling my nostrils.

Chapter 5 I brushed aside some loose paper scraps inside from the bag.

Starving, I grabbed handfuls of food and stuffed them into my mouth.

I hadn’t eaten all day. Even the acidic bile in my stomach had long been vomited up.

Crouched beside the garbage can, I tasted the best food I’d ever had in my life.

I ate until a burp escaped me. My stomach, which had been empty and deflated, finally felt full again.

Feeling content, I sat down on the ground and rubbed my full stomach.

In those deep nights back in the Appalachian Hills, Mom would say that one day she would escape the village, break free from Ray.

She told me she had once belonged to a good family, people who loved her dearly.

Lying beside her, I couldn’t hlp but wonder—when that day came, would I get to go with her?

Would I finally be free of my cruel, terrifying father? Would I get to see that good home, those kind family members?

But now, with my stomach full and my mind clearer, the truth finally hit me.

That home belonged to Mom. Those family members belonged to her.

I had no home. No family who loved me. The past and the present—they were the same.

A pang of sadness hit me. The wind whipped at my eyes, making them sting.

Then suddenly—footsteps behind me. Uncle David came out.

Panicked, I shoved the trash bag back into the bin.

But the grease smeared at the corner of my lips was still there, and grains of rice clung stubbornly to my shirt.

His eyes wer cold as he demanded, “Who said you could eat that?”

I flinched,stammering in defense, “I… I saw it was thrown away. Nobody wanted it anymore.”

Uncle David’s expression darkened.

Having seen Mom’s scarred arms, his hatred for me seemed to have grown even deeper.

His voic was cold as ice. “If no one eats it, it’s better off fed to the dogs than to you!”

He was burning with hatred.

His fist clenched slowly, as though he’d reached a final decision. “Get out.”

“The Millers will not raise you. If it comes to it, I’ll go to prison.”

“But I will never let Laura suffer more by seeing you again.”

But I had nowhere to go.

Back in the village, when Ray got drunk and cursed me as worthless, throwing me out of the house, no other family would take me in, not even for one night.

And here, in Riverside City, everything was unfamiliar. I had nowhere to go.

Terror swelled in my chest. I couldn’t leave.

A child with no home would have no food, no shelter from the wind and rain, and would die.

Frantically, I thought hard until I remembered the only use I had. “I… I can work!”

“I can sweep, do laundry—I can do a lot of chores.”

“As long as I can eat and have a place to sleep, that’s enough.”

Uncle David looked at me coldly. It was clear he wasn’t moved.

I gripped my sleves tight, blurting out, “I… I can eat just White Bread, that’s enough.

“Two pieces a day—no, even one is enough.”

He turned impatiently, ready to walk away.

I hurried after him, trembling, and forcedout the words in a rush. “I… I can even take a beating.”

“You can hit me, curse me—anything.”

That’s what Ray always said. A useless girl like me had only one purpose—to be beaten when he needed to vent.

Mom hated me. Uncle David and Ethan hated me too.

If hitting me gave them relief, then at least I had some use.

Uncle David finally stopped in his tracks.

He turned back. Instinctively, I shrank my neck.

Even though I had said it, I remembered all too vividly the searing pain from just days ago—when Ray had slammed a thick wooden stick across my back.

Fear made me want to recoil. But I forced myself to stay still, waiting for Uncle David’s hand to strike.

Yet the blow never came. After what felt like long time, his cold, detached voice cut through the silence.

“Don’t think you’ll be here for long.”

“As soon as I find a suitable arranement, I’ll send you away.”

Chapter 6 I stayed with the Millers. Together with Mom, Uncle David, and Ethan, I went to Riverside City.

The Miller house was enormous—like a castle from a storybook.

In the living room, several framed photos were displayed. Each showed the same beautiful woman. She was playing the piano or painting.

Beside the photos stood rows of trophies and medals. In one picture, she was holding a toddler boy in her arms.

Beside her stood a man, his gaze lowered, watching her and the child with gentle warmth. That man was just as handsome as Uncle David.

I stared at the woman in the photos, who seemed to be smiling back at me. Her smile was radiant, as if she had captured the sunlight itself in her face.

Her skin was porcelain fair, her smile radiant like a shining sun—more dazzling than the television stars I had secretly glimpsed once in the village head’s home.

She looked so much like Mom, and yet not at all.

Mom’s face and hands were the same as mine—sallow, rough, covered in scars.

But the woman in the photos was nothing like that. I couldn’t help but stare at her a little longer.

Just then I heard Mom’s muffled sobs.

Uncle David spoke sharply to the housekeeper, and soon all those photos were taken away.

By evening, the man from the photos arrived.

When he came, Uncle David was eating with Mom, and Ethan was sitting on the couch playing video games.

I was in the kitchen scrubbing the floor when I heard agitated voice from the other room.

It was Mom’s voice, trembling with uncontrollable sobs.

I peeked my head out carefully. Then I saw her snatch up a porcelain bowl and hurl it hard at the man’s forehead.

Blood trickled down his brow, his eyes turning red.

He looked at Mom with grief and said, “Laura, no matter what you’ve been through, no matter what you’ve become…I’ve always been your husband.”

“And Ethan has always been our son.”

Mom tried to strike him again, tried to drive him away, but Uncle David held her back.

Her eyes wide with fury, she shook her head wildly and shouted, “No! No! I have nothing to do with you anymore. Leave! Go!”

Ethan was crying so hard his tears streamed uncontrollably.

He threw his arms around her, crying uncontrollably. “Mom, Dad and I have been waiting for you all this time!”

“Don’t drive Dad away! Please don’t drive him away!”

Mom’s body shook harder and harder, her expression twisting into something frantic, almost distorted.

Dr. Hayes, the psychiatrist Uncle David had found for her, hurried forward, urging, “Miss Miller’s emotions are unstable right now.”

“Mr. Carter, it would be best if you came back another time.”

Michael’s eyes were full of sorrow. In the end, he had no choice but to leave.

As he walked away, his steps faltered, his body swayed, as if he could barely stand.

Mom’s eyes followed his retreating figure, and at last, a tear slid down her cheek.

Dr. Hayes called Uncle David to help, and together they led her upstairs to rest.

The living room was left with Ethan alone, sobbing until he was gasping for breath.

Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. He whipped around and caught sight of me crouched at the kitchen doorway.

Startled, I ducked back quickly, squatting down and fumbling with the rag in my hands.

But Ethan stormed into the kitchen, snatched the rag from me, and flung it into the trash.

Then, gritting his teeth, he shoved me hard.

I crashed to the ground, my head striking the edge of the cabinet. The buzzing roar returned to my skull.

Above the buzzing in my ears, I heard Ethan’s voice, thick with tears and rage. “It’s your fault! It’s all your fault!”

“Mom used to love me the most. She loved Dad the most!”

“Now she doesn’t want Dad anymore—and she doesn’t love me either!”

He took a few quick steps toward me, crouched down, his eyes bloodshot.

His hands shot out and closed tightly around my neck. “My sister should be like Chloe! Not disgusting like you!”

“Why don’t you just die? Why don’t youand that man both just die!”

Chapter 7 I didn’t dare struggle. For what felt like a long time, I could only manage,my voice choked with terror, “I… I’m sorry.”

I was always at fault. From the moment I was born, everyone had told me so.

Ray and Grandma scolded me.

The villagers, whenever they saw me, woul shake their heads and sigh. “Giving birth to a worthless girl—what a sin!”

Before I turned three, Mom would occasionally stick up for me. But after the incident that happened when I was three, she would only ever look at me with cold, utter loathing.

So I believed it—I must always be wrong. That was why apologizing became a habit.

Even when I didn’t know what exactly I had done wrong.

The pressure of Ethan’s hands around my neck tightened.

The housekeeper, who clearly disliked me too, kept scrubbing the counter as if she hadn’t seen a thing.

I could barely breathe. Everything began to go dark.

Just when I thought I was about to pass out, Ethan finally let go. His eyes were red and swollen as he staggered to his feet.

“You’ll all rot in hell!” he snarled, his voice thick with emotion.

I watched his swaying figure leave the kitchen nd whispered weakly after him, “I’m sorry.”

The housekeeper gave me a small room on the first floor.

There was nothing inside—just a bare wooden floor. No bed, no blanket, nothing.

She said to me coldly, “The Millers has been brought to ruin because of you people. The floor is all you’re fit for.”

My whole body felt sticky. I thought I could smell the stench clinging to my skin.

I wanted to ask if I could take a shower, if there were old clothes I could change into.

But when I saw her icy face, the words died in my throat.

That night, I curled up in the corner and dozed off. Half-asleep, I felt my forehead burning hot, my mind blazing, my throat sharp with pain.

In the dark, I groped my way up, opened the door, hoping to find a sip of water.

As the door opened, I faintly heard voices coming from the living room—Uncle David’s and Dr.Hayes’s.

Dr. Hayes said gently, “Miss Miller is showing clear signs of post-traumatic stress disorder. Recovery will take time.”

“The important thing is to avoid anything—sights, sounds, or people—that remind her of those years.”

Uncle David’s voice was low,fierce, and filled with anguish. “She can avoid everything else. But that child…”

He paused, andhis tone became urgent, pleading. “Dr. Hayes, is there a way you could give Laura a diagnosis? A severe psychological disorder?”

There was a long silence. Then Dr. Hayes sighed.

“Are you hoping to use a diagnosis of severe mental illness as grounds to say she lacks the capacity to raise a child...so te girl can be sent to an orphanage?”

Chapter 8 Ucle David’s voice was low and grim. “Yes. I can’t think of any other way.”

My heart leapt into my throat. I froze in the dim doorway, my body stiff as stone. The voices blurrd.

Dr. Hayes said, steady but firm. “That’s nearly impossible.”

“To lose custody, a parent would need to be diagnosed with an extremely severe mental illness—one involving violent tendencies or a history of child abuse.”

“No hospital or doctor would dare issue such a false diagnosis.”

From the living room came the heavy crash of something shattering against the floor.

My clenched hands trembled violently. I instinctively took a step back, retreating into the darkness behind the door.

Then I heard Uncle David’s voice, a low, furious whisper choked with unbearable grief.

“She said that four years ago, she tried to escape once.”

“She almost made it, but someone held her back.”

“Now her hand is ruined. She can’t play the piano. he can’t paint.”

“And her face—her face…She used to cry over a single blemish, and now it’s rough, scarred—”

His voice uivered harder, breaking into fragments. “Dr. Hayes, why? Tell me why!”

“The man who broke the lawdestroyed almost everything my sister had. My parents died in grief.”

“And the lawstill forces her, still forces the Millers, to raise the child of her abuser?”

I stumbled back step by step. Dizzy and reeling, I shut the door without a sound.

Darkness swallowed me whole. And then I understood.

I finally where I had gone wrong. I was the child of a human kidnaper.

A kidnapper deserved to die. And so did I.

I remembered what the villagers use to say—Ray couldn’t find a wife. So Grandma bought one for him from a kidnapper.

In my eyes, Grandma and Ray no different from the monster.

My throat and skull burned like fire. I slumped into the corner, too afraid to go out in search of water again.

Large drops fell—maybe it was sweat, or maybe something else. I licked my lips. The taste was saty, bitter.

I lowered my eyes to my own toes, but all I could see was endless darkness.

My mind grew hazy, slipping fast. And I remembered Uncle David’s words

Mom had tried to escape once, four years ago. She almost made it, until someone tripped her.

Uncle David didn’t know. The one who tripped her—was me.

When I was three years old, Mom had finaly found a chance. She took me into Brooksville, shaking off Ray and Granda who trailed behind.

She left me inside a shop, and was just about toboard a bus leaving town.

But I chased after her. Ad in the middle of the road, I was struck by a car. Blood poured from my head.

I had only wanted, instinctively, to o with her. Because in the three years of my life, she was the only person who had ever loved me.

Mom had one foot on the bus already. She turned back and sw me bleeding, wailing.

She froze—just for a second. Then she pulled her foot back.

She ran to me, scooped me up, and tried to make it onto the bus again. But it had already driven away.

A villager recognized her, rushed forward, and grbbed her. Ray and Grandma came soon after, dragging us both home.

Mom was locked up in a dark shed for many, many days.

Through the door I heard her screaming, crying. I pounded on the boards, sobbing, until Ray kicked me hard in the stomach.

When the door finally opened again, Mom had changed.

She didn’t cry anymore. Her eyes were like blac, hollow pits.

She became like the other village women—docile, silent, working in the fields.

She never held me again. Never comfortd me again.

Late at night, when I tried to crawl onto he bed, she would look at me with those icy eyes and said, “Why don’t you just die?”

And now I was back there again, curling in the corner, burning up, hotter nd hotter.

I didn’t know how many days I’d been feverish. No one came to check on me.

Mom asked me why I didn’t die. Uncle David and Ethan said people like me should rot in hell.

The fireinside me raged higher. And then—suddenly—I felt nothing. No thirst. No pain.

My body fell, deeper and deeper. And then it was as if I floated.

I thought, mybe this time, I really had died—just as everyone wished.