Chapter 7
Annabelle doubled over with laughter at the hatred blazing in Elena’s eyes.
“Annabelle!” Elena lunged and closed her hands around Annabelle’s throat, but a year of abuse had left her weak; Annabelle twisted free and crushed Elena’s thin wrist in an fron grip.
A shuffle sounded at the doorway; Annabelle’s eyes flashed and she instantly adopted a fragile, trembling guise.
“Please, sis, don’t hit me…” Annabelle cringed, neck withdrawn.
The scene was painfully familiar-Elena looked up and met the savage glare of Julian Bennett standing in the doorway.
Before she could react, Julian drove a punishing kick into her stomach, hurling her against the wardrobe; wood cracked, and her frail body ricocheted to the floor. Pain exploded through every bone, turning her limbs numb.
Julian cradled Annabelle in alarm. “Annie, are you hurt? Did she hit you again?”
“It’s my fault, Brother. Don’t blame her.”
Julian soothed her with a pat, then swung a blade-sharp stare toward Elena lying on the floor.
“I can’t believe a year wasn’t enough to make you repent! Downstairs you pretended to be meek, but the second you got up here your true colors showed. Annie gives way to you in everything, yet you still bully her. Elena, you’re a bitter disappointment!”
Elena met Julian’s icy gaze head-on, a spear of pain driving through her chest.
Once, when a neighborhood boy ripped out a few strands of her hair, Julian had broken the boy’s fingers for her; now he kicked her without asking why.
She thought abandoning the word “family” would spare her, yet his cutting rebuke smashed that illusion, and tears poured down.
Annabelle clutched Julian’s arm, tears shimmering. “Brother, don’t scold her-she’s crying. It’s my fault for taking her room. I wasn’t trying to intrude; I just haven’t had time to tidy another one.
“She’s suffered so much this past year. I don’t blame her. I’ll move my things out right now; please don’t hit me.”
Still sobbing, Annabelle dashed about the room grabbing clothes, looking pitifully flustered, and Julian hurried after her, dragging her back to his side.
“Annie! She attacked you the minute she got home-there’s no need to feel sisterly anymore. Since she can’t tolerate you, why should she enjoy the best room? Frankly, she ought to be locked up for another year!”
His words cut like knives, leaving Elena’s spirit flayed.
Elena stared back, voice ice-cold. “I did not touch her.”
Julian’s voice shook with rage. “I caught you myself and you still lie? You’ve bullied Annie since the day she came home.
“On her third day back, Mom bought her new dresses; you sliced them to ribbons out of jealousy.
“Then you dragged her to a remote mountain and left her lost. She spent a winter night alone, caught a fever, and was bedridden three full days.
“If strangers hadn’t rescued her, Mom and Dad would have lost their treasure again. And that first New Year you threw a lit firework down her collar, trying to burn her alive! Heartless!
“One crime after another-tell me, which of them is not vicious, and which of them have we falsely accused you of?”
As his furious indictment echoed, Elena felt her heart shatter and plummet into darkness.
1/2
Chapter 7
Everyone seemed convinced Elena simply couldn’t tolerate Annabelle, but hadn’t every single accusation leveled against her been a blatant injustice?
Annabelle had shredded those dresses herself; just because the tatters were found in Elena’s closet, everyone immediately decided Elena must be the
culprit.
When Annabelle vanished on the mountain, Elena spent the entire night combing the ridges in terror, while Annabelle had deliberately switched off her phone and slept sourdly in a country guesthouse; and when the family ordered Elena to nurse a supposedly bedridden Annabelle, she discovered the illness was nothing but an act.
Throughout Annabelle’s feigned sickness, she made Elena’s life a living hell, yet the family turned a blind eye and even punished Elena-denying her food-for failing to “care for her little sister.”
At New Year’s, Annabelle recycled the same trick, framing her all over again.
With each fresh lie, their parents’ disappointment in Elena grew; whatever Annabelle said, they believed, and whenever the two girls clashed, no one bothered to ask questions-Elena was automatically at fault.
Elena understood that no matter how she explained, they would never believe her.
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.