My heart hammered harder, my breath ragged.Fuck.A sudden, mad urge to laugh bubbled up in my chest. My hand, clenched so tight, shot up and gripped her chin, forcing her face towards mine. “You know what’s not fair?” I retorted. “After everything you’ve done, Sophie, we’re the ones ruined.” My voice cracked.“Only us.”
My grip tightened, trembling. “You still have your life, your friends, your career, and you still have a damnfamily.” I pressed the words like a blade. “Walking around with that smile plastered on your face.” My teeth ground with rage. “But us, ten fucking years later, we’re still living in hell.I’mstill living in hell.” The memories resurfaced, noisy, choking, burning. “You live a happy life, and you’re doing fine. Butwe, we’reneverfree from that darkness.”
How could you do that to us?
My fingers dug harder into her chin, my hand trembling with the pressure. “So don’t you dare play the victim here,” I rasped, my voice harsh and cold. “You are a mistake. You never should’ve existed. Something that should’ve been erased!” I snapped, voice shaking with everything I’d held back.
She jolted, yanking my hand from her chin. Her trembling body shoved me back, and through her tears, her hazel eyes blazed with fury. A second later, a hot sting exploded across my cheek as she slapped me hard. “Yeah, right.” Her sobs cracked her words. “You’re an asshole, Zi,” she spat, voice raw and broken, before bolting past me and out of the toilet.
Her cries echoed down the corridor, fading and fading, until they vanished.
I looked down, letting my tears fall freely. My gaze dropped to the floor, as if staring at my life that had long been broken and ruined. “Because if you’d never come… my mum would still be here.”
« -- * -- »
I parked my car as I arrived at the residence. The dashboard clock read five in the evening. I realised I’d been in the car for almost an hour, aimlessly driving, not knowing where the road had taken me.
My chest felt lighter, yet plagued by a strange sensation as if something vital had been carved out of me.
I wanted to be alone. To disappear. To climb into my dark room and shut the world out for as long as I could.
Everything in me felt like a rage room. After the release, I was left with nothing but devastation, and I didn’t know how to clean it up.
I feared the day my father’s words would finally ring true.Wasn’t everything true?I let out a long breath, trying to claw back some strength.
Weakly, I lifted my gaze towards the residence. Towards the lift tucked into the corner of the car park, and that was when it caught my eye.
A car was parked beside it.
It was unfamiliar but not entirely. I recognised the brand because someone I knew had been obsessed with it. Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail stuck out like a sore thumb, and I had a bad feeling.
Dragging myself out of my car, I held the door for balance.Fuck.My steps to the lift were slow and heavy, and I pressed the button for the third floor.
The doors opened to noise—voices, footsteps, suitcases being wheeled through the hall, and the damn pressure built in my chest.
What now?
The room moved in a blur around me, but I remained static. And when housemaids moved back and forth, lugging bags down a hallway next to my room, a realisation jolted me.
That hallway was…
“Hey.”
My suspicions were confirmed when a tall man in a sharp suit appeared, and a housemaid bustled behind him, carrying more luggage. I exhaled, ignoring his greeting, and collapsed onto the sofa in the lounge. My stiff back sank into the cushions, my fingers pressing against my temple, praying the buzzing in my skull would fade.
Then a footstep approached, and his voice followed deep, yet maddeningly soft. Typical of him. “Seriously? No hug?” he teased. “It’s almost—wait, when was the last time I flew to the UK to see you and Zeraiah?”
I cracked my eyes open, staring at him, and a small smile touched his lips
Zaeem. My eldest brother.
He was just a hair taller than me, with the same build and dark hair. A thin moustache shadowed his face, his skin darker than ours. The only difference was our eyes; he had Mum’s, the same as Zeraiah’s. He was dressed as always—crisp white shirt, black waistcoat, jacket, and a tie. It was a style he almost always wore because his life was just about work, and if he wasn’t working, he’d be abroad to see his permanent girlfriend.
Smart trousers. Polished shoes. A luxury watch strapped to his wrist.
More and more, he was becoming Dad.
I never doubted that I loved him. But right now, I wanted to punch that bloody smile off his face.
