Beth: Chapter 7
Untitled
Digital illustration
Alex Seehuus
Story by Xavier (they/them)
Adoptee, 27
Nanchang Project Volunteer
From Unknown, Jiangxi; Living in Lekwungen and WSANEC Territory, Victoria, B.C., Canada
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This story is deeply personal. It is a reflection of my journey—painful, messy, and sometimes raw, yet slightly fictionalized. All names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved with one exception: the titular character who is referred to by my original adoption name. I have chosen to share this story because I believe in the power of truth to heal and connect us and because I wish to illustrate the reality of growing up in a difficult adoptive home.You may encounter moments of grief, trauma, and abuse within these pages. For some, these moments may be difficult to read. Please know that I include trigger warnings where appropriate, and I encourage you to take care of yourself as you engage with this story– if you so choose.
While my experiences have shaped much of my life, this is also a story of survival, resilience, and the ongoing journey toward wholeness. It is meant to offer solidarity and hope to those who may feel isolated or broken in their experiences as adoptees.
You are not alone.
If you or someone you know needs support, please consider reaching out to a trusted friend, counselor, or helpline. I have included links below and will continue to with each chapter as they are released.
Thank you for reading and holding space for this story.
With gratitude,
Xavier Huang
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Beth: A Love Story
Chapter 7
The police arrive at the high school with an air of boredom. Four officers and two squad cars park at the entrance to the office and they exit their vehicles slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. Beth is watching them through the vice principal’s window, and she pushes down the feelings of guilt over her betrayal. This is the moment she has been dreaming of and dreading. Her life will never be the same.
She never intended to tell anyone what happened last night. She tells herself it is Celeste who is truly breaking up the family.
Two hours ago, Beth had been sitting in class when she received a text message from one of Celeste’s friends.
Friend: Celeste broke down in class and is hiding in the West Wing bathroom. Will you come? She says she wont talk to anyone but you
Beth: What’s her problem? Tell her to stop crying. I’m in class.
Friend: Are you serious??? Please just come down, I think something bad is happening. She started sobbing in the middle of English and then ran out of the room. She won’t tell us anything, she keeps saying she’ll only talk to you. You really need to come
Beth: Fine.
When Beth arrived, Celeste was curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. Her head was bent low, sobs echoing off the tiled floor. She appeared like a child; her fragility was terrifying.
Three of Celeste’s friends crouched around her, trying to coax her out of the stall, their hushed voices buzzing in Beth’s ears like flies.
The air in the bathroom was stale, the heat in the enclosed space oppressive; Beth felt like she was suffocating. In her head, she reached for a place of numbness, she divided herself in half and hid part of herself away. This was the only way she could bear it: the decision she knew Celeste would force her to make and the life that would follow. This was the point of no return.
So, Beth clenched her hands into fists and pushed down her urge to leave, to walk out the front doors and run until she was somewhere far away. Be brave, she urged herself, as she tried to school her expression into one of stoicism. She stepped towards her sister.
Beth’s internal frustration and trauma from the night before had drained her of any empathetic emotions. All she felt was envy at the people surrounding Celeste and disdain that she was being forced to remember what she desperately wanted to forget.
“What’s wrong with you? Is this about last night?” Beth asked in an accusing tone.
Celeste flashed white teeth as she tried to answer through her tears. Her jaw shook, and the words she spoke came out in halting phrases. “Y-yes… I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t go back there again.” Her face was wet with tears and dark hair fell across her eyes.
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Beth replied. She felt exasperated, furious that Celeste had provoked Eric, and worried about the biology test she was sure she would fail. In her head she thought, You know how he is. Why would you argue with him like that?
“I want to tell someone,” Celeste finally squeaked. Deep bags marred her beautiful face, and her body was bent in on itself as if she might disappear. She looked utterly broken. For the first time, Celeste appeared human and the realization sickened Beth to her core.
“Really?” Beth was incredulous. “You’ll ruin the family if you do,” she stated, repeating the words Lucy had said to her five years earlier.
“I don’t care,” Celeste spat, “I can’t go back there again.” Celeste raised her head and finally met Beth’s gaze.
For a moment, Beth paused and considered Celeste’s words. She stared at her sister, shaking on the tile floor and something shifted in her chest. Not pity, but release. Beth had not been strong enough to break up the family, but Celeste was different. And for once, Beth was glad of this.
“Fine. Get up,” she said, and did not wait for Celeste before she exited the bathroom.
When they arrived at the school’s office, Beth walked past the principal and asked to see the only person she trusted.
At first, the principal began to argue but something about Beth’s expression, the way she held herself, or the faraway look in her eyes kept the principal from speaking. After a long silence he nodded his head and left.
Now, Celeste and Beth sit next to each other, facing vice principal Bell. Celeste is still crying, but her tears are gentle, her shoulders shaking with her soft breaths.
Another police cruiser arrives outside, and an officer trips as he walks up the stairs. His partner pauses to shake his head.
Beth’s face is expressionless and the far-off look has not left her eyes. She seems like she is no longer there. In truth, she is imagining herself flying above the clouds. She is dreaming of sinking deep into the depths of the sea. Above all else, she is praying that she will wake up one day and realize that she is not Beth, but someone else. Someone happier. Somewhere far away.
Bell looks at her over her glasses and remarks, “You’re still in fight or flight mode, I can tell. You’re being strong because you have to be. It’s okay for you to cry.”
The words anchor Beth back in the present with a violence that makes her bite her lip until it stings. But she shrugs cooly and replies, “I’m fine. Celeste shouldn’t have started the argument, she knows how he gets. I’m only here because she said she won’t go home.”
Bell raises her eyebrows, but does not say anything. Silently, she picks up the phone beside her and asks the receptionists to show the police officers into the conference room next door.
Beth glances at the clock on the pale cream walls. “I have a biology test in fifteen minutes,” she says. “I couldn’t really study last night. Do…Do I still have to take it?”
Bell stares at Beth for a moment. Something clouds her expression, and if Beth were still here, really here, she might recognize it as pity. But Beth’s mind is divided; she exists superficially in her body while her mind travels free. She does not see the expression, only hears Bell’s response.
“No, you don’t have to write the test,” Bell replies and Beth exhales a sigh of relief.
As she stands, Bell pauses at the door and gazes at Beth for a moment. “It wasn’t your sister’s fault,” she finally says and then steps out to greet the arriving officers.
To access licensed US mental health professionals who identify as adoptees and work with adoptees/adoptive families visit growbeyondwords.com/adoptee-therapist-directory.
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Untitled
Digital illustration
Alex SeehuusRendered in a clean, comic strip style, Alex Seehuus pairs visual simplicity with emotional weight. Divided into two panels, the piece uses clear lines and minimal detail to center attention on composition and pacing. Speech bubbles, typically present in many comics, are not present. Instead textboxes anchor the scene with reflective narration. This balance between image and word invites a slower reading—first absorbing the stillness of the frame, then the resonance of the text. Through restraint and clarity, the work mirrors Beth’s stoic exterior amid surrounding turmoil.
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Alex Seehuus is an adoptee and artist from Wuzhou, Guangxi, raised in the midwest United States, and currently based in Phoenix. Seehuus’s love for printmaking translates into her artwork, digitally and physically, though she also dabbles in illustration. Connect with Alex on Instagram @acwhos or online at acwhos.wixsite.com/acwhosportfolio.
Alex is the artist and illustrator of Book 1, Chapter 4; and Book 2, Chapter 7 of Beth. To learn more about Alex and the other artists of Beth, read about them here.
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Xavier (they/them) is an adoptee from Jiangxi who now lives on the unceded territory of the lək̓ʷəŋən and W̱SÁNEĆ nations (colonially known as Victoria, B.C., Canada). X is a prolific writer and enjoys creative non-fiction, fantasy, and fiction writing. Through their work they explore their identity as an adoptee, parse their lived experience, and explore what it means to be human. They joined the Nanchang Project in 2023 and cherish the community they have discovered amongst the volunteers and adoptee community generally.
The views expressed in blog posts reflect those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the shared views of The Nanchang Project as a whole.
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