My brand-new car disappeared after one night, and then my parents said they had given the keys to my sister. I walked out into the cool Columbus morning and saw only an empty parking space. Twelve hours earlier, my shiny new Honda Accord had been sitting there under the sodium lights of my apartment complex, its silver paint catching the glow like something out of a dealership commercial.
Now there was nothing but bare concrete and a faint pair of tire marks where someone had backed out—fast. My chest tightened so hard it hurt. I called my mother with shaking hands.
“You did what?” I heard my own voice crack through the phone, too loud in the quiet parking lot. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. My mother laughed on the other end of the line—that light, dismissive chuckle she always used when she decided I was being dramatic.
“Relax, Jasmine,” she said. “We gave your spare key to Felicity. She needed a reliable car, and yours was just sitting there in the parking lot.”
I stared at the empty space like the car might somehow reappear if I just looked hard enough.
“Mom, that car is in my name,” I said slowly. “I’ve been making payments on it for three months. You can’t just give someone my keys without asking me first.”
“She’s your sister,” my mother said, as if that explained everything.
“Family helps family. You know Felicity has been going through a hard time since the divorce. She needed transportation to get to her new job, and you have that nice new car just sitting there.”
I closed my eyes for a second and tried to breathe.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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