The emptiness in my arms sent me into a spiral of panic. My hands scrambled over the cold floor as I crawled toward the blood-stained pillow, my breath hitching.
Tears blurred my vision as I cradled it close, whispering, "It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy will protect you."
Before I could curl around it, shadows loomed over me. My four brothers.
Their presence blocked out the harsh flashes of cameras, but not the suffocating weight of their judgment. "Kaitlyn! You’re still thinking about that bastard? After everything? You should be grateful we sent you for reform, but no, you’d rather sulk like a victim!"
Yohan, the eldest, didn’t wait for a response. His boot slammed into my chest, knocking me backward. Pain shot through my ribs and the sickly taste of blood filled my mouth before I choked and spat it out. It splattered onto the pillow, merging with the red already smeared across my forehead.
Yohan froze for a second, then scoffed. "Wow. Kaitlyn, seriously? Blood packs now? What, trying to put on a show for us? Guess we didn’t punish you hard enough last year."
The crowd buzzed with murmurs. "I wonder who the mystery man is. Must’ve been something special to make the great Kaitlyn Stafford throw everything away."
The words slithered through the air like poison. I could feel the weight of their pitying stares shifting toward Carter, my ex-husband, the man I had supposedly betrayed.
His expression hardened, his disgust palpable. A chill ran down my spine. I knew that look. Carter was about to lash out.
And if I didn’t act fast, I would be the one paying for it.
I swallowed back the blood pooling in my mouth and forced myself up, bowing my head low in submission. My voice was shaky, desperate. "I was wrong. I shouldn’t have seduced him. I deserve to be punished. Just… just don’t hit me. Do whatever you want, just let me go."
The words felt distant, automatic. My hands trembled as they moved, mindlessly pulling at the fabric of my own clothes because wasn’t that what they expected? Wasn’t that what they wanted? To see me reduced to nothing?
But the truth was, I didn’t even know who this so-called man was. I didn’t know why my parents had suddenly died.
I didn’t know why my son was cast aside like a mistake. I didn’t know what I had done to make my sister turn her back on me.
Carter grabbed my wrist, stopping me cold. His grip was like iron, his eyes filled with rage and something even worse; contempt. "Kaitlyn, a year later and this is what you’ve become? Pathetic."
He pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his hand as if touching me had left him dirty. Then, he smirked, sharp and cruel. "And you really think you deserve mercy?"
The four brothers finally snapped out of it, their faces dark with determination. "Since you still don’t get it, we’ll just have to remind you ourselves."
Their voices overlapped, sealing my fate. Carter walked over to the car, popped the trunk and pulled something out, something he had clearly prepared in advance.
Then he turned to the cameras, his voice steady and cold. "Once the livestream hits a million viewers, we begin."
My stomach clenched.
So this was their plan all along. They weren’t just here to take me back, they had a whole punishment mapped out, ready to play out in front of a live audience.
And the crowd ate it up. The numbers shot up in real time, comments flooding in, urging them to start. To put on a good show, Yohan stepped forward, smirking like he was about to reveal some grand secret. "Kaitlyn, since you’re struggling to remember what you did, let me refresh your memory."
His words sent a chill down my spine and just like that, it all came flooding back. The fire. The screams. The twisted wreckage.
The day my parents died, they had been on their way to my brother’s party. Just a normal drive. No warning, no signs, until their car suddenly lost control, swerving straight into a roadside guardrail.
Then, boom. The fuel tank ruptured. Fire exploded from the wreckage, engulfing the entire car. Thick smoke rose into the night, flames swallowing everything in sight.
They were trapped inside. They pounded against the windows, their screams drowned out by the roar of the fire.
And then, a recording played. Not just any recording, theirs. Their final, agonized screams, raw and unfiltered, filling the air. My breath caught. My hands shook.
Winona recorded this. She stood there, listening, while my parents burned alive. The sounds cut through me like a blade. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it was useless. I could see them.
Their scorched faces, twisted in pain. Their hands, pounding desperately against the glass. Their fear, their agony, their betrayal.
And all I could do was relive it. Over and over again.
