LOGINThe sound of my words hitting the table was like a physical blow. My mother's fork clattered loudly against her plate."Stella!" My father's voice rose—sharp, heavy, and reprimanding. He stood up halfway, his chair scraping violently against the hardwood floor. "You will not speak to us like that! We are trying to help your sister, and you're sitting there complaining about leftovers?"Claire let out a soft gasp, pulling back as if she had been slapped. She looked at my mother, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "Mom, it's okay. I can try to catch up on my own. I don't want Stella to be upset with me.""Don't be silly, Claire," my mother said, her voice tight with anger as her glare locked onto me. "She's just being difficult because she wants attention.""I am not asking for attention," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pounding in my chest. "How could you even say that?"I stared at her eyeball-to-eyeball, not flinching. "This is my sophomore year. She can adap
"It's not okay that you address your mother with no respect," she scolded, her eyes glittering with a dangerous, red-hot anger. "What has come over you? You've been acting weird since yesterday."The corners of my lips twitched slightly, but they didn't notice. At least they were sensible enough to recognize that something was wrong with me.I looked down at the cold crumbs left on my plate. The sight was nothing short of insulting. My stomach growled again—louder this time, echoing across the quiet dining room.My father cleared his throat, his face flushing a slight, angry shade of red. "Stella... your mother asked you a question. Apologize to her this instant."I stood there staring at my furious mother, while Claire feigned a look of sheer panic, clutching my mother’s arm and whispering sweet, soothing nonsense into her ear. My mother seemed to calm down slightly. She took a deep breath and pressed a tender kiss onto Claire’s forehead.I felt an ache in my chest. It wasn't the ago
Diane's face paled. She didn't answer immediately, her gaze dropping to the floor. The silence between us stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the house settling around us."I'll see what I can do, Miss Stella," she whispered. Her voice was tight and controlled. "I'll bring some cleaning supplies tomorrow morning. Before anyone else is awake."She lingered for a moment, her hand gripping the doorframe as if she wanted to say more. Then, with a quick nod, she turned and hurried down the hallway, her footsteps fading into nothing.I stood in the cold bathroom, holding the warm mug between my hands. The steam hit my face, soothing my throat for a second.Downstairs, I could hear the faint sound of Claire's laughter again. It was light and almost musical, drifting up through the vents. It sounded so happy. So completely at home."She sounds like a spoiled brat," I mumbled to myself and walked out of the bathroom.I stepped back into the room and set the tray on the cracked desk. The
I heard it so clearly. But strangely, I didn't feel that familiar, desperate tug I always felt whenever Karl wasn't giving me enough attention. I felt... completely plain. It was as if he were referring to a total stranger.What I didn't understand, though, was why... if he actually wanted me to date him or stop being jealous, as he claimed... he was suddenly becoming so overly attentive toward Claire.And he even had the audacity to smirk and tell her I could rot in here for all he cared.Noted, Karl. I will rot in here, as long as it keeps me away from you.Claire giggled softly, her voice dripping with that smooth, velvety sweetness. She let out a delicate sigh. "Karl, don't speak like that. Stella is my sister... she just isn't used to having a sibling around."I heard Karl sigh in response. Though I couldn't see what he did next, his voice came through again—calm and soothing. "You're far too sweet, Claire. I don't know why Stella is acting like this. She was never like this be
Difficult. The word sounded bitterly familiar. Of course I was always the "difficult" one. In their eyes, I was the daughter who was supposed to endure everything—even being shoved repeatedly against a wall—and still smile, bowing my head in quiet gratitude for their crumbs of affection. "And what happens then? Do I get my room back?" I asked, my voice dangerously steady. My mother's expression tightened, her lips pressing into a thin, brittle line. She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she turned to Claire and patted her hand with an affectionate, exaggerated tenderness that felt entirely performative. "We'll see," Mother said finally, her tone completely dismissive. "If you can show us that you've matured, if you can act like a proper member of this family instead of a spoiled child, then maybe things will change." Claire tilted her head, her eyes wide, innocent, and guileless. "Stella, please don't be mad at Mom. We just want peace in the house. Isn't that what everyone
I breathed in heavily, a burning sensation ripping through my chest. Should I call it anger, or rage? Maybe rage wasn't even enough.How dare he have the nerve to call me his girlfriend when I had rejected the absolute hell out of him?In my previous life, there were so many moments when I heard whispers that Karl was using me. People warned me that he never actually liked me, but I ignored every single red flag. I brushed them off as mere rumors born of jealousy, desperately choosing to believe that Karl loved me as much as I loved him. Back then, he was the only person in this hollow house who treated me like family—or so I thought. I had no idea it was all part of his master plan to break me completely, to strip away my self-respect until I had nothing left.Standing there now, looking into his calculated eyes, I failed to understand his motives. Why? What did he really want from me? What was the ultimate prize in destroying someone who had already given him everything?I let out







