All Chapters of The Revenge of One Humiliated: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Liora (her sister)The front door slams behind me, its sharp crack shooting through the house like a bird of ill omen. Silence greets me, dense, motionless. Our parents are out, of course, off playing the grieving parents for the neighbors, asking for news of Aliénor as if their worry wasn't hanging by a thread. Their theater exhausts me. I prefer tragedies that play out in the shadows.My coat slips from my shoulders and crumples softly against the banister, like a reptile shedding its skin for me. I climb the stairs, savoring the slow ascent of my own plan. Each step is an internal drumbeat.The door to Aliénor's room waits for me, half-open like a confidence. She's not there, obviously. But that's perfect. Now is when I work.I enter. The bed is made with a morbid discipline, her belongings arranged to the millimeter. A good girl's room. A wallflower's room. The ideal victim's room.I stifle a little laugh. People who are too clean make it so easy to highlight the dirt.I move towa

SabrinaThe front door closes on Marc's departure. His kiss on my cheek was distracted, his mind already at the office. Through the window, I watch him walk away, an anonymous silhouette in the morning flow. Then, it's Liora's turn. Her backpack slung over her shoulder, she walks with a determined step toward school. Her newfound strength uplifts me. She doesn't know. She knows nothing. And it's better that way.I remain motionless until the street is empty. Then, only then, does the silence of the house become palpable. It is a complicit silence, heavy with promises.My heart begins to beat faster. It's no longer the quiet excitement of liberation, like yesterday with Liora. It's something wilder, more immediate. A low, warm pulse radiating through my entire being.I go up to the bedroom, my footsteps muffled on the stairs. In front of the dressing table mirror, I look at myself. The woman I see is no longer quite the same. Her eyes shine with a forbidden gleam. Her lips sketch a smi

ÉlianorWhite.An immaculate, gentle white that wraps around everything. It is the first thing I perceive. An absence of color, of weight, of cold. A diffuse, soothing light.Is this what heaven feels like?I have never truly believed in heaven. Hell, yes I know it well. I have walked through it. But this… this is silent. Warm. There is no smell of mildew, of cold sweat, of damp earth. The air is light. Sterile.I try to move a finger. A distant resistance, as if my body were stuffed with cotton. A soft heaviness, but present. So not heaven. The dead do not feel their limbs, I think. I should be a spirit, a drifting thought. I am still inside a shell of flesh.Gathering all my strength a single drop of water in an ocean of exhaustion I manage to part my eyelids.The white sharpens into focus. A ceiling. Smooth. Muted light filtering through blinds. The soft, steady hum of a machine , regular, reassuring. A room. A bedroom.Where?The last image… the road. Rain. Blinding headlights. Th

ÉlianorA fleeting relief crosses Martha's mind. Her shoulders slump slightly. Then the doctor adjusts his glasses, taps on his tablet."That said," he continues, his tone slightly more serious, "the in-depth examinations we conducted have revealed something else. Something completely unexpected, but vital."He pauses, looking at Martha, then at me, making sure he has our full attention. His smile has become softer, almost moved."Your condition requires special attention, because you are not alone. Far from it."He turns the tablet toward us. On the screen, blurry, in black and white, an ultrasound image. Two distinct shapes, two fuzzy little beans, two rapid, distinct heartbeats that suddenly fill the room with their hurried beep-beep-beep, amplified by the tablet's speakers."These are the reasons why we will need to take particular care of you," he says, his voice imbued with professional satisfaction. "Congratulations. You are expecting twins. They came through the accident with

ÉlianorThe doctor left hours ago, but the beeping of the two small hearts still echoes in my head. A primal, insistent rhythm. I keep my hand resting on my belly, where the gauze bandage feels rough beneath my fingers. Flat. Seemingly inert. And yet, it's a universe pulsating within. Two universes.Martha left the room a while ago, claiming she needed air. The silence she left behind was different. Heavy with what she'd said, with what she'd offered. Not a lie. A pact.I close my eyes, and the flood of thoughts crashes over me, raw, disjointed.I'm going to have children. Twins. The product of that night of shame, of that ultimate violence, or of a despair so deep I've erased it. Their origins are an inkblot, a torn page. But them… they are here. They held on. They survived the degradation, the hunger, the fear that froze my veins. They survived the shock of the accident. They're fighters. Like me.A wave of something warm, protective, fierce rises within me. It sweeps away part of t