3: The Zagar Household

The two police officers looked at each other, not fully believing the man's words.

The wounds and bruises on the girl's body didn’t seem to come only from the fall.

“Her condition is very bad. We have to bring her to the hospital.”

The man and woman suddenly panicked.

“S-she... she can recuperate at home! There’s no need to bring her to the hospital!” the woman said in a hurry.

“But this isn’t a good place for her to recover. She needs medical care,” the policewoman said, gesturing at the dust around them. “This shed is so dirty she could get infected and die from it.”

The woman wanted to retort, but her husband stopped her.

“We’re grateful. It’s a good chance for Danice to get a check-up. You see, we’re very busy parents. We didn’t keep an eye on her, and it’s our fault that she ended up this way. We’ll truly be grateful for your help.”

The policewoman’s fierce expression softened a bit. She nodded and helped Danice up.

Danice remained silent as she listened to everything. The events were unfolding exactly as she remembered.

When would this dream end?

They brought her to the police car and sent her to the hospital.

All the while, Danice stayed quiet, staring into space. This string of events brought her back to the past, unlocking memories she had buried deep in the Zagar household.

...........

"...You need at least six weeks of rest to completely heal," the doctor’s voice sounded in front of her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

The stitches on her forehead were done, and her leg and chest had been properly bandaged. While spacing out, she had unknowingly gone through all the medical procedures.

“If you feel any pain, I’ll increase the dosage of the painkillers. The nurse here will assist you. Please excuse me for a moment.”

Danice thanked the doctor, and he left the room.

With the painkillers, the pain dulled. At least she could breathe smoothly now that her bones were set in place.

But...

When would this dream finally end?

Everything felt too vivid—too real. As if she had truly gone back in time.

“…I’m telling you, we don’t abuse her. What kind of father abuses his daughter?!” a familiar voice echoed from outside the room.

Danice looked toward the open door.

This dream was far too strange. She wanted to wake up.

She had lived through this once already—she didn’t want to relive it.

Not a single moment in the Zagar household was worth returning to.

So she stood up and limped toward the door. The voices outside grew louder as she approached.

“Then please state your name, sir, and your wife’s as well, so we can identify you,” the officer from earlier said.

“I am Jovas Zagar, and my wife’s name is Melda. This is really absurd. She fell by herself—why do you need to investigate this?”

Danice peeked outside and saw Jovas arguing with the police while Melda puffed her chubby cheeks, clearly trying not to yell at the officer. They were so caught up in their argument that they didn’t even notice the doctor leaving Danice’s room.

“After her procedure, we’ll take her statement. She will testify for us.”

“How can she testify? Her mind isn’t sane! She’s gone deaf—she can’t testify!” Melda couldn’t hold back anymore and shouted. Jovas quickly pulled her arm and apologized.

“I’m sorry. My wife is just worried about the hospital expenses. You know how costly medical care is these days. One day in the hospital is worth a week of both our salaries.”

The policewoman frowned. She could no longer hold back her thoughts and asked, “…Isn’t your daughter’s health more important than money?”

Jovas and Melda froze. Then Jovas let out an awkward laugh. “The officer is right. We treasure our daughter, of course. But she doesn’t need to stay here. We can take care of her at home.”

Danice leaned against the wall, silently listening to the nonsense outside.

Daughter…

To outsiders, she was the daughter of the Zagar household. But inside that house, she was nothing more than an abandoned girl—one her so-called parents never wanted. A lie the Zagar family had woven, fooling both her and everyone else.

Danice’s earliest memory was of the old shed behind the house. For as long as she could remember, she had lived with the Zagars. The people in town all believed the family had two children: the eldest son, Christopher, and the youngest daughter—her.

But the treatment between the two was like heaven and hell.

Christopher was cherished like a prince. Everything he wanted, he got. He never had to lift a finger or struggle for anything. He ate the best food, wore the finest clothes, slept in the nicest room, and was showered with the couple’s love and care.

Danice, on the other hand, didn’t even have her own room. Her only space was the old shed in the backyard—cramped, dusty, and filled with dirt. All she ever did was clean, wash laundry, and obey whatever orders were thrown at her without rest and complaints. When the couple was in bad mood, she endured their beatings. She had to tolerate each of Christopher's violent temper and absurd plays.

Even the maid lived better than she did.

Then, one day, she discovered the truth—she wasn’t even their child.

The couple finally came clean: her mother had abandoned her at their doorstep, and they took her in out of pity. They claimed they worked hard to provide her shelter and food, so she owed them everything.

Danice scoffed at the memory.

Pity?

Provide for her?

That was a lie. A blatant one.

But back then, her naïve self—whose world revolved only around the Zagar household—couldn’t see through the deception.

Her mindset slowly shifted. From “If I work hard, maybe they’ll love me like a real daughter,” to “I must work hard to repay my debt.”

She was brainwashed to the core.

Outside the room, the voices escalated again. The Zagar couple was still trying to convince the authorities to let her go home. But the officers remained firm.

“We’re her guardians! We have the right to decide if she stays or goes!”

Melda’s voice dripped with impatience. She was clearly desperate to end the conversation and get rid of the police.

But the policewoman sensed something was off. She didn’t back down.

“We haven’t finished the investigation. You’re not leaving.”

Frustration spread across Jovas and Melda’s faces. This was the first time the law had interfered in their carefully curated act, and they were having a hard time navigating it.

Then Melda’s eyes locked onto Danice, who had peeked out from the doorway.

Melda’s expression brightened with urgency.

“She’s here! Let’s go. We’re leaving now.”

She marched over and grabbed Danice’s shoulder roughly.

Danice flinched. It was the subconscious reaction of her body.

The policewoman and Jovas followed.

Jovas smiled as if everything was normal.

“Looks like you can walk now. Come, your brother is waiting.”

At the mention of her “brother,” Danice’s expression turned cold.

Of course. That pig of a brother.

Danice forcefully pulled her arm away from Melda’s grip. The motion drained what little strength she had, and a wave of dizziness hit her—but she stood her ground.

She turned to the officers.

“...I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here.”

Her hoarse voice echoed down the hallway.

The four of them froze.

This dream was strange—vivid and unsettling. She didn’t understand why she was reliving this memory now.

But if life ever granted her the chance to go back in time, then this...

This was what she should’ve said.
This was how she should’ve stood her ground back then.