9
When the large screen in the living room flickered to life, a furtive–looking Isabelle appeared. She was holding a box of razor blades, carefully tuck- ing them into the cracks between the piano keys. Then, gritting her teeth, she began to play.
The result was predictable. Her fingers were sliced open, blood streaming down her hands. She ran downstairs, sobbing, to tattle, claiming Stella had tried to hurt her.
In the glow of the screen, the expressions on my father’s and Liam’s faces shifted subtly. Their brows furrowed. My mother’s pupils constricted as she stared at the date stamp in the top right corner of the screen.
“I remember that day,” she whispered to herself. “It was Isabelle’s birthday. I’d just given her that piano. We thought… we thought Stella was jealo- us and had put the blades there…” Her voice trembled as the memory solidified. “We were so angry. We slapped Stella so hard her face swelled up. And she just stood there, crying, asking us why we were hitting her…”
Hah.
Why were you hitting her? Do you know now?
She had come home, exhausted and weary, wanting nothing more than to slip quietly into her room without disturbing anyone. But instead, she was dragged out, slapped until her nose bled, and forced to apologize to Isabelle.
Chapter 1
09:33
For what?
“This… what is this? Is this fake?” my father shot to his feet, his eyes glued to the screen.
Liam studied the footage for a moment before shaking his head, his voice firm. “It’s not fake. This is raw security footage.”
A dead silence fell over the room. Sweat beaded on my mother’s palms. She inserted another SD card.
The scene changed. In the backyard of the manor, a younger Stella was on her knees, being forced to kowtow to Isabelle’s little white dog.
“Who gave you permission to touch him? This is my dog! You’re not worthy!” Isabelle shrieked, clutching the puppy. “Bow to him! A hundred times!
Or I’ll have Mom and Dad send you back to the countryside!”
Stella looked up, her eyes filled with despair. “I’m sorry, I just… I really like him…”
“Who needs you to like him? You little tramp! Today you touch my dog, tomorrow you’ll be trying to take over the whole house!”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Back then, Stella was terrified, timid, too scared to fight back. Her head, along with her dignity, was ground into the dirt beneath a dog’s paws.
This is impossible!” my father slammed his hand on the table, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Beside him, Liam silently lit a cigarette.
Tears streamed down my mother’s face. Her lips trembled, but no words came out. With a shaking hand, she inserted another card.
This time, it was a video from when Stella’s cancer was in its late stages.
Heartbroken and drained, Stella had just returned from the hospital. She had asked the housekeeper to make her a small bowl of millet porridge.
The porridge was hot, and she was gently blowing on it, taking slow, careful sips.
Suddenly, a figure rushed in, snatched the bowl, and shoved it against Stella’s mouth, forcing the scalding liquid down her throat.
Stella, caught off guard, screamed in agony. Her already frail body collapsed to the floor, a withered husk of a girl.
