I was twelve when the car took Mom and Dad.
I woke up a week later in a hospital bed.
Naira woke up right away. She was one year older than me, our adoptive sister: the one my parents took in when her family couldn’t keep her. They gave her a room beside mine, bought her new clothes, treated her like she belonged. She was quiet, polite, careful to smile at the right moments. But I saw it, the small, hungry envy in her eyes whenever Mom brushed my hair, whenever Dad called me “sweetheart.”
And that night, everything broke.
Mom and Dad told her the truth. That her real parents had written. That her parents wanted her back home.
She screamed. Pulled at Mom’s hair. Clawed at Dad’s shoulder, yelling she would rather die than leave. The car swerved. Lights. Screeching. Then black.
I woke up in white sheets. She was already awake, eyes glistening, voice trembling just enough to sound fragile.
“It was Candy,” she said to my brothers, Calen and Jason. “She went mad in the car. She was screaming. She pulled Mom’s hair. She... she said she wished they’d die.”
I shook my head. “That’s not true—”
“Stop lying,” Calen snapped.
“I swear! I don't remember—”
Jason’s jaw was tight. “You don’t remember because you don’t want to. You killed them! Murderer.”
“I didn’t!” My voice cracked. “I didn’t!”
Jason stepped forward, his face inches from mine. “Then who did, Candy? Who the fuck, who?”
“Please don’t fight,” Naira began to cry, soft and shaking. “I just want us to stay a family. I just want peace.”
They wrapped her in their arms. My brothers, who once carried me on their shoulders, now looked at me like a ghost that should have stayed buried.
That was the day I lost everything.
My name. The house. My freedom.
Calen said, “From now on, you are nothing but a servant. You live to serve this family. You owe us your life.”
And Naira? Sweet, trembling, fragile Naira sat by the window and smiled through her tears.
For 10 years I scrubbed floors, signed away property, and answered to a name that was not mine. I learned to move like I did not exist. Naira learned how to make me disappear in front of my brothers. She practiced being hurt. She practiced being helpless. She learned to make their anger land on me.
I remember one morning, I brought tea to the sitting room. The tray shook in my hands. Naira stood by the doorway, empty-handed, her smile too calm.
“Oh no!” she said softly, and then she fell. A crash, porcelain shattering, a sharp gasp.
“My wrist—oh God, my wrist!” She clutched it, eyes wide with perfect terror. “Candy pushed me! She always rush in so loud!”
“I didn’t touch you!”
Calen stormed in. “What happened?”
“She hurt me brother,” Naira whimpered. “I tried to move away, but she pushed the traya and she wanted me to fall.”
“I didn’t!”
“Don’t you lie to me,” Jason barked. “How many times must we remind you to behave?”
“Please,” Naira whispered, glancing at me like she was afraid to breathe. “Don’t be mad at her. She doesn’t mean it.”
The softness in her tone broke something in them. They looked at me like I was the beast she had forgiven too many times.
“Basement tonight,” Calen said. “No dinner.”
Naira brushed past me, her wrist suddenly steady. “Thank you,” she whispered, smiling where only I could see.
That night, I slept on the cold floor and heard her laughter drift through the walls.
.....
Every few weeks, she found new ways to hurt me without ever lifting a hand.
Once, she limped onto the porch, clutching her foot, blood seeping through her sock. “Candy stepped on me!” she screamed. “She did it again!”
“I didn’t! You’re lying—”
“Don’t yell at her,” Calen said, stepping between us. “She’s shaking.”
“I’m scared of her,” Naira whispered, eyes wet. “She waits until no one’s looking and hurts me.”
Jason’s voice came low and final. “Two days without food. You're going to sleep outside, Marsha! Maybe the cold will teach you to stay in line.”
That night, I curled beneath a torn blanket while rain soaked through my skin. From her window, Naira watched me shiver. In her hand, I saw the sock she had painted red earlier that day.
Since that night, I stopped counting how many times Naira hurt me.
After a while, it all blended together... the bruises, the punishments, the lies.
I learned to stay quiet. To move slow. To act like I didn’t exist. Because Naira didn’t need to hit me. She had my brothers for that.
Every day she changed who she was.
Sometimes the scared little sister who flinched whenever I walked in.
Sometimes the sweet one begging Calen and Jason to forgive me.
But when no one was watching, she’d look at me and smile like she was proud of what she’d done.
One night, I tried to run away.
I waited until the whole house was asleep. Didn’t pack anything, just ran barefoot through the dark. I didn’t care where I ended up. I just wanted out.
They found me before sunrise.
Calen’s guards dragged me home by my hair.
He made me kneel on salt all day.
My knees bled before noon, but he didn’t care.
Jason stood nearby, angry.
“You dare run away?” he said. “You didn’t even blink the day you killed our parents, and now you want to run?”
“I didn’t kill them!” I shouted, but Calen slapped me across the face so hard my head spun.
