Chapter 3

Victoria’s eyes flushed a dangerous red, like a cornered lioness.

She grabbed me by my hair, dragging me brutally off the floor, and hauled me toward the utility closet next to the kitchen.

"Cake? You think you deserve to eat Lily’s cake? You killed your own sister! Why didn't you die instead of her?!"

Her hysterical screams shattered the harmony of the party. The guests turned to look in shock.

David's face darkened. He quickly stepped forward to stop her. "That’s enough, Victoria! The guests are still here!"

"Get off me!" Victoria shoved his hand away. "I’m going to teach this brat a lesson today! She dared to show her face on Lily’s anniversary. She wants me dead, doesn't she?!"

A look of exhaustion and annoyance flashed across David's face, but in the end, he chose to avoid a scene. He cast a cold, detached glance at me, as if looking at an inconvenient piece of trash.

"Maybe locking her inside to reflect is a good idea," David murmured.

He condoned Victoria’s cruelty.

The utility closet door slammed shut with a heavy "BANG", followed by the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock.

The world plunged into absolute darkness and silence.

I curled up on the cold floor. The stinging pain on my cheek gradually went numb, replaced by a familiar, bone-deep chill.

This dark closet had been my most frequent shelter for the past three years.

Whenever I upset Victoria, I would be locked in here. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

At first, I used to cry. I would bang on the door, screaming for David and Victoria.

But later, I realized my cries only brought worse abuse from Victoria and longer lockups.

So, I learned to be quiet.

I hugged my knees, waiting for the time to pass as I always did.

But today, my body felt wrong.

Since the afternoon, my head had been heavy and dizzy, my limbs weak.

Now, locked in this damp, freezing closet, the chill was creeping up my spine like a thousand icy needles.

My forehead burned hotter by the minute. The darkness began to spin.

I realized I had a high fever.

Using the last of my strength, I raised my hand and tapped weakly on the wooden door.

"Victoria... David... I feel sick..."

My voice was hoarse and dry, a whisper so faint it barely left my throat.

Outside, the party seemed to have ended. I could hear David saying goodbye to the guests, followed by Victoria's muffled, bitter weeping.

Nobody came for me.

The fever began to consume my consciousness. A suffocating pressure rushed over me like a tide.

In my haze, I thought I saw Lily.

She was wearing her beautiful princess dress, holding the nut chocolate I had given her, smiling at me innocently.

"Chloe, this chocolate is so good. Let's share it, half and half, okay?"

I shook my head violently, tears pouring down my face.

"Don't eat it... Lily, I'm sorry... I didn't know you were allergic... I'm so sorry..."

This apology, three years late, was something I only dared to whisper in my dreams, during the countless nights I spent locked in this dark room.

I wanted to tell her that if I could, I would gladly trade my life for hers.

Just like Victoria had cursed me to do, a thousand times...

In the final moments of my consciousness, I heard David’s exhausted voice from outside the door.

"Victoria, stop crying. Is it really worth torturing a living child for the sake of one who is already gone?"

Victoria snapped back sharply, "A living child? David, don't forget, Chloe killed our Lily! She doesn't deserve to live!"

Ah. My name is Chloe.

It had been so, so long since I heard anyone call me by my name.

They usually called me "that thing," "the brat," or "the murderer."

My body felt lighter and lighter. My soul, like a wisp of smoke, drifted gently out of the closet, leaving my physical shell behind.

I was dead.

I died during my sister's tenth birthday party.

And my mother, after cursing me one last time, finally smiled with relief.