No matter how many times I’d heard that recording, I could never get used to it. I still couldn’t accept it. I still couldn’t believe my parents were gone.
Their deaths left a wound in me that would never heal. But the worst part, everyone thought I was to blame.
They believed I had tampered with the car. That I had murdered my own parents. And now, the entire world was watching, eager to see me pay for it.
The live chat was going crazy, messages flooding in so fast I could barely keep up. Each one was like a knife to the heart.
[Kaitlyn, you murderer! You should’ve died instead of them!]
[Your parents must’ve committed some terrible sin to end up with a daughter like you.]
[Stop acting innocent. You’re disgusting.]
[You deserve every bit of what’s coming to you.]
Their words burned into me, harsher than any wound. I wanted to tell them they were wrong. That I didn’t do it. That I would never hurt my parents.
But what was the point? Nobody would believe me. To them, I was already guilty. I curled up on the ground, clutching the bloody pillow as if it were my last lifeline.
Tears slid down my face, mixing with the blood on my forehead, dripping onto the pillow. "I’m sorry, Mom… Dad… I don’t understand why this is happening."
Yohan’s voice cut through the air like ice. "Still playing the victim, Kaitlyn? You think looking pitiful will change anything? You killed our parents. You destroyed Winona’s life. Do you think you’ll escape punishment for that?"
I looked up at him, my chest tightening. His face was stone-cold, but his eyes were full of hate. The number of viewers kept skyrocketing. The comments kept coming.
They wanted a show. They wanted to see me suffer. For a split second, I wished I could just disappear. That I could close my eyes and never wake up. But I couldn’t.
Because if I died, my son, the little boy they stole from me, would have no one left. He and I were both discarded, both unwanted. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. I didn’t have a choice.
"Let’s begin," Carter said coldly. And just like that, the nightmare started. The four brothers surrounded me, their faces void of warmth.
"Kaitlyn, what happened? No more crazy act? No more games? Beg for mercy!" Yohan’s voice dripped with mockery as he lifted a long, thin whip lined with barbs. He flicked it in the air, the sharp crack making me flinch.
Step by step, he came closer. I tried to back away, but before I could, Julian, my second brother, grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back. Pain shot through my scalp, sharp and blinding.
"Where do you think you're going?" he taunted. "Isn't this what you wanted? Playing the victim, acting pitiful? Go ahead, keep pretending."
Tears stung my eyes, but I swallowed them down. Crying wouldn’t help. Nothing would.
"I was wrong… I was really wrong," I murmured, my voice trembling, repeating the words like they were some kind of shield.
It didn’t matter. The whip cracked against my back, sending a white-hot wave of pain through me. My body lurched forward, a choked whimper escaping my lips. But I didn’t scream.
I knew better than that. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, forcing myself not to make a sound. If I cried out, they’d only make it worse.
"What, you think a few fake tears will get you out of this?" Yohan scoffed. "Dream on."
Another lash. And another. The pain was unbearable, every strike ripping through me like fire. "Tell them," Yohan’s voice was cold, emotionless. "Tell everyone what you did wrong."
The whip came down again and all I could do was curl in on myself, bracing for the next.
