I imagined my sister inside, already curled into a trembling ball.
Mom didn't hesitate. She snatched the spare key and jammed it into the lock. The door slammed open with a deafening *bang*, and she stormed in.
"Why did you lose two points in math?"
"How could you be so careless?"
"Is your head filled with boys? Are you too busy flirting to study?"
Sarah curled up on her bed, shaking her head frantically. "No, Mom, no... it was just a mistake..."
"I don't want your excuses! Hands out. Now!"
Sarah trembled as she extended her arms.
*Crack.*
The ruler sliced through the air and struck Sarah's palm with sickening force.
I flinched at the sound, rushing forward to grab Mom's pant leg. "Mom, stop! Don't hit Sarah! It hurts her..."
Mom didn't even look down. Her foot caught me in the waist. I flew back and landed hard on my bottom.
My lip quivered. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I opened my mouth and wailed.
Mom whipped around, her eyes bulging. "If you want to cry, get out and do it! Get out!"
I slapped my hands over my mouth, choking back the sobs. I didn't dare make another sound.
She turned back to Sarah. Her expression shifted instantly—from rage to something terrifying. Desperate sincerity.
"Do you know that you are my only hope?"
"You have to get into a top university. You *must*. When that happens, I'll dress up, and we'll march right in front of your father and slap him in the face with your success!"
"Only when your father sees how brilliant we are will he regret leaving. That's the only way he'll come back!"
Mom and Dad were divorced. Mom said a "filthy homewrecker" had seduced him. She claimed that if Sarah and I were perfect—if we were undeniable—Dad would eventually return.
"No dinner tonight." Mom tossed the ruler onto the desk. "Do another set of practice problems."
After the beating came the orders.
It wasn't until Mom went to the kitchen to start cooking that I dared to sneak into the room.
Sarah wasn't at her desk.
She sat on the edge of the bed, still as a statue. A wooden puppet with its strings cut.
Tear tracks had dried on her cheeks, but her expression was terrifyingly calm.
The calm of despair.
Her left hand hung by her side, the palm swollen and angry red, puffed up like rising dough. But it was her right wrist that made my breath hitch.
A jagged crimson line cutting across her skin.
*Drip. Drip.*
Bright red blood fell onto the floorboards, vivid and shocking against the wood.
"Sarah..."
I rushed forward, panic rising in my chest.
Sarah moved instantly, covering my mouth with her good hand and pressing a finger to her lips.
"Shh. Don't tell Mom, okay?"
"I was just... very sad." Her voice was hollow. "I needed relief."
I stared at her through wet lashes, half-understanding, half-terrified.
She let go of me and reached under her pillow, pulling out a small iron box.
"Wait until I fall asleep." She pressed it into my hands. "You have to remember to give this box to the police."
"What's inside?" I asked, confused.
Sarah opened the lid. Inside lay a voice recorder. She pressed play.
Mom's violence filled the air—the screaming, the hitting, the insults from years of abuse. Even the incident at the school gate, recorded clearly.
"I begged Dad for this on my birthday three years ago," Sarah said softly. "You have to keep it safe."
"And... if the police ask how I died, you must tell them Mom forced me to do it. Do you understand?"
I nodded, clutching the cold metal box.
My gaze drifted to the bedpost of Sarah's bunk bed. A tiny red light blinked there. I reached out and poked it.
"Sarah, what is this?"
Sarah turned to look.
All the color drained from her face.
A camera.
Mom had been watching.
The realization hit us both at the same moment.
*Crash.*
The door was kicked open again. Mom stood in the doorway, a kitchen knife gripped tightly in her hand.
"Good." Her voice trembled with fury. "I gave birth to you, raised you, and this is how you repay me? You join forces with that traitorous father of yours to destroy me?"
"You want to die? Fine. Let's all die together!"
