I was twelve when the crash took Mom and Dad.
I woke up a week later in a hospital bed.
Elowen came to first much earlier. She was a year older—our adopted sister, the one my parents welcomed in when her own family couldn’t keep her. They gave her a room next to mine, new clothes, a place at the table. She fit in perfectly—quiet, polite, always smiling at the right time. But I noticed it—the flicker of envy in her eyes whenever Mom fixed my hair, whenever Dad called me “sweetheart.”
Then everything shattered that night.
Mom and Dad told her the truth—that her real parents had reached out, that they wanted her back.
She lost control. Screamed. Yanked Mom’s hair. Dug her nails into Dad’s shoulder, crying that she’d rather die than leave. The car lurched. Headlights flashed. Tires screamed. Then darkness.
When I opened my eyes, everything was white.
She was already awake. Eyes glossy, voice trembling just enough to seem weak.
“It was Kaia,” she told my brothers, Evander and Leonhart. “She went crazy in the car. She was shouting… she pulled Mom’s hair… she even said she wished they were dead.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what happened—”
“Quit lying,” Evander cut in.
“I’m telling the truth! I just—I can’t remember everything—”
Leonhart’s expression hardened. “You ‘can’t remember’ because you refuse to. You killed them. You’re a murderer.”
“I didn’t!” My voice broke. “I swear, I didn’t!”
He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. “Then who did, Kaia? Tell me—who?”
“Please, stop fighting,” Elowen sobbed softly, her shoulders shaking. “I just want us to stay together… I just want peace.”
They pulled her into their arms. My brothers—who used to lift me onto their shoulders—now stared at me like I was something that shouldn’t exist.
That was the moment I lost everything.
My name. My home. My freedom.
Evander said coldly, “From now on, you’re nothing but a servant. You exist to serve this family. You owe us your life.”
And Elowen? Sweet, fragile, trembling Elowen sat by the window, smiling through her tears.
For ten years, I scrubbed floors, signed away what was mine, and answered to a name that wasn’t mine. I learned how to move like a shadow. Elowen, meanwhile, perfected the art of erasing me in front of my brothers. She practiced looking hurt. Practiced being helpless. Learned exactly how to turn their anger toward me.
One morning, I carried tea into the sitting room. My hands trembled, the tray rattling. Elowen stood near the doorway, empty-handed, her smile too composed.
“Oh dear,” she murmured—and then she fell. Porcelain shattered. A sharp cry cut through the room.
“My wrist—please, my wrist!” she gasped, clutching it, eyes wide with flawless fear. “Kaia shoved me! She always comes in so loudly!”
“I didn’t even touch you!”
Evander rushed in. “What’s going on?”
“She hurt me, brother,” Elowen whimpered. “I tried to move, but she knocked the tray… she wanted me to fall.”
“That’s not true!”
“Don’t lie again,” Leonhart snapped. “How many times do we have to teach you a lesson?”
“Please,” Elowen whispered, glancing at me like she was terrified. “Don’t be too harsh on her… she doesn’t mean it.”
Her gentle tone broke whatever restraint they had left. They looked at me like I was something monstrous she had forgiven too many times.
“Basement tonight,” Evander ordered. “No food.”
As she passed me, her wrist suddenly steady, she leaned in. “Thanks,” she whispered, smiling where only I could see.
That night, I lay on the freezing floor, listening to her laughter seep through the walls.
…
Every few weeks, she found a new way to hurt me—never once needing to touch me.
One time, she staggered onto the porch, clutching her foot, blood soaking through her sock. “Kaia stepped on me!” she cried. “She did it again!”
“I didn’t! That’s a lie—”
“Don’t raise your voice at her,” Evander said, stepping in front of her. “Look at her—she’s trembling.”
“I’m scared of her,” Elowen whispered, tears brimming. “She waits until no one’s watching… then she hurts me.”
Leonhart’s voice was quiet but final. “No food for two days. You’ll sleep outside, Marsha. Maybe the cold will teach you obedience.”
That night, I curled beneath a thin, torn blanket as rain soaked through me. From her window, Elowen watched me shiver. In her hand, I saw the sock—stained red hours before.
After that, I stopped keeping track of how many times she broke me.
It all blurred together—the bruises, the punishments, the lies.
I learned to stay silent. To move carefully. To exist as little as possible. Elowen didn’t need to lay a hand on me. My brothers did that for her.
Every day, she became someone new.
Sometimes the frightened little sister who flinched when I entered.
Sometimes the gentle one begging Evander and Leonhart to forgive me.
But when no one else was around, she would look at me and smile—proud of everything she’d done.
One night, I tried to escape.
I waited until everyone was asleep. I didn’t take anything—just ran barefoot into the dark. I didn’t care where I’d end up. I just needed to get away.
They caught me before dawn.
Evander’s men dragged me back by my hair.
He forced me to kneel on salt the entire day.
By noon, my knees were bleeding, but he didn’t care.
Leonhart stood nearby, furious. “You think you can run?” he said. “You didn’t even hesitate after killing our parents, and now you’re trying to escape?”
“I didn’t kill them!” I cried—but Evander’s hand struck my face so hard the world spun.
