For years, my stepfather kept my twin sister and me living in constant fear, as though our suffering was the only thing that satisfied him. One night, after beating us until we both lost consciousness, he carried us into the emergency room while my mother quietly told the doctors, “They just fell down the stairs.”

Part 1: The Recordings Hidden Beneath the Floor

The last thing I remembered before everything went black was hearing my twin sister scream my name. Her voice fought through the ringing in my ears, but another sound stayed with me even longer. It was my stepfather laughing, not because he had lost control, but because he believed he had complete control over every person inside our home.

My name is Faye Morgan, and my twin sister, Chloe, and I were seventeen years old that night. We looked so alike that teachers mixed us up, classmates constantly confused our names, and even distant relatives sometimes struggled to tell us apart. Edric Kaine never had that problem. He always knew exactly which one of us he wanted to hurt first because he understood that fear was easier to control when it was carefully divided.

Every act of violence followed the same routine. He waited until the neighborhood settled down for the night, pulled the heavy curtains shut, removed his wedding ring so it wouldn’t scratch his hand, and ordered our mother to turn the television up loud enough to drown out our cries. Only then would Chloe and I be told to stand side by side in the living room, silently waiting to discover which one of us would become his target.