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.”

Edric believed our mother controlled that money.

She never corrected him.

To this day, I still don’t know whether she stayed silent because she was terrified of him or because she secretly hoped to benefit from his plan.

As time passed, our world became smaller. Uncle Alan’s phone calls mysteriously stopped reaching us. Letters disappeared before we could read them. Friends drifted away after Edric convinced teachers, neighbors, and relatives that Chloe and I were troubled girls who constantly invented stories for attention. He never needed locked doors to isolate us. Lies worked just as well.

Everything finally changed that night.

When Edric suddenly raised his hand toward me, Chloe instinctively stepped in front of me. The blow hurled her backward into the stone fireplace before I could react. Seeing her collapse broke something inside me, and years of fear erupted in a single reckless decision. I lunged straight at him without thinking.