Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Some had no choice at all.
Mom had been one of the brides who barely knew her husband, our father, but they’d fallen head over heels for one another. Dad would’ve leveled the earth for her. It was tragically poetic that they had died together. Yet still, my sister refused to believe the truth. She grew even more irrational after they were killed. Instead of feeling broken and mourning them like I had, she was pissed that our father didn’t leave us any of his assets.
I assumed our grandmother now controlled what remained of his estate. I saw it as him further ensuring we never returned. My father was seen as cold-hearted and ruthless to almost everyone, but I remembered a man who loved us so much he broke his own heart trying to set us free. Whatever caused him to do the things he did must have been warranted. As soon as she was able, Eva went against his wishes with a dramatic flair. Maybe it was then everything derailed.
The day I lost them I began losing my sister. How many times had I screamed at her for the shitty choices she had started to make again and again? She always screamed back before storming out of the house. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, go after her. I either had zero desire to do so, or nine times out of ten, had to work. We lived on a strict allowance where every penny had a designation long before it hit my now pitifully overdrawn account.
Aunt Molly was always the poster of guilt when I handed her the money from my paychecks to help keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. That was another source of contention—money. I understood why we weren’t given anything to live off. Large deposits to a bank in the ghetto would be a little too obvious if someone were looking for us, something Dad was notorious for being paranoid about.
Arguing was my and Eva’s thing, though, and that night was no different.
We did it weekly.
I thought she was a fool for coming here pretending to be someone and something she wasn’t. She thought I was pathetic and weak for being complacent. One of us always removed ourselves from the situation and before the night was over, either she or I would text to apologize and say I love you. This last time, she never read the text.
I hadn’t seen her or heard from her since she’d left the house. I think I struggled with that the most. I couldn’t be without my sister. She was half of my whole. It didn’t matter how angry she made me or how badly her words could cut. I loved her more than the rage and hurt. The only reason I’d come back to was for her.
While vengeance for Aunt Molly consumed all the thoughts my sister didn’t, the agony of her loss raw, this wasn't a fictional tale of retribution. This was my reality.
To bring down her killer meant unraveling the mastermind behind it all. I wasn’t powerful enough to be a threat or make any. My only means of finding my sister and the truth involved immersing myself in a world I abhorred.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a plushy towel around my body and twisted my hair up, locking it in place with a clip. Everything around me was blindingly white with a gray marble accent. This bathroom was the same one that had been attached to my childhood bedroom. They’d redone where I slept, swapping the princess theme with these tones, but nothing else had changed. It brought back a painful nostalgia of a childhood long gone. It was going to be hard to get used to. I’d grown accustomed to living a lower-class lifestyle. Every time I looked around at my surroundings, I felt as if I’d tripped and fallen into an alternate reality.
In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. To most, the glittering facade of wealth and privilege was all they ever desired. I knew the truth that lurked beneath the surface, concealed behind designer clothes and lavish parties.
There was a darkness in this world of opulence, a shadow that clung to every corner, whispering secrets of corruption and deceit. Even then, I could feel it creeping closer, a malevolent presence that hungered for more than just material wealth. It yearned for souls to claim, for hearts to break, for lives to destroy. That’s how it dragged me back here.