That was, until she sliced my arm with a knife and poured glue over my wound during her second night with us. 

When my parents returned, she ran to them and sobbed. 

“I’m sorry! Charlie’s arm got hurt, and I wanted to help her treat them. It’s all my fault. I understand if she wants to beat me up! Please don’t scold her.” 

The wound on my arm burned. I raised it to explain, but they did not believe me at all. They were certain that I accidentally hurt myself while trying to hurt Jenny. 

Ever since that day, any conflict between me and Jenny was automatically assumed to be my fault. 

It reached the point where, even when they went on a road trip with Jenny and the brakes malfunctioned, they were certain I must have done something to the car. 

I climbed up from the floor to try to treat my new wounds, only to hear my parents talking in their room. 

“So what if she pieces the trophy back together? We went too easy on her. 

“Fixing the trophy is just an excuse. I just don’t want her to interrupt Jenny and Jared’s time together. Do you want him and Charlie to get married?” 

“Of course not! I want her to rot in jail! All she’s ever done is make Jenny sad!” 

Any hope I had left for this family disappeared. I returned to my room—which was now Jenny’s—to gather whatever papers I had before I served my time. 

As I was gathering everything, I saw a familiar video on my phone. It was a vlog from one of the mountains I had hiked years ago, but it was posted on Jenny’s account. 

I was all wrapped up and unrecognisable. 

The video had raked up a lot of likes.