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Chapter 36 — Behind Locked Doors
(Luna's POV)
The courtyard was already drenched in shadows when I stumbled through the front gate, my body aching from the brutal beating outside school. My uniform clung to me like a second skin, soaked with sweat, dirt, and the sting of blood. Every step toward the house sent jagged shards of pain through my legs, but it was nothing compared to the storm waiting inside.
Li Wei — my stepfather — stood rigid in the hallway, his presence alone a warning. His sharp eyes scanned me, gleaming with cold satisfaction. My cousins — Zhao Mingkai, Li Nuan, and Chen Shuyin — leaned lazily against the stairs, smirking, their whispers cutting sharper than any hand could. My grandparents, Grandfather Li and Grandmother Yan, sat silently, their expressions unreadable, yet heavy with judgment.
"You are late," Li Wei said, voice low, venomous. "Again."
Every word pressed into me, dragging me down. My cousins snickered behind their hands.
"Always so clumsy."
"Can't even walk properly."
Then came Madame Yan — my mother. Her voice was ice, brittle and unforgiving.
"Kneel," she ordered. "Kneel until you remember your place in this house."
I obeyed. The cold tiles bit into my knees immediately, their icy grip sharp, relentless. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. My skin cracked, warmth spilling from open wounds. The sting of humiliation was made worse by Li Rong — my younger brother, who, under the pretense of "helping me up," smudged coarse grains of salt into the raw cuts on my legs.
The laughter of my cousins, the approving nods from relatives, the silence of my grandparents — it all pressed in. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Every word echoed like a hammer on bone.
Finally, my punishment at their hands ended, and I dragged myself up the stairs, bloodied and trembling, desperate for solitude, desperate for anything that wasn't their cruelty.
I reached my room, my sanctuary — or what I hoped would be. The door slammed behind me with a harsh click.
Li Jie — my elder brother.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes burning with disdain.
"Lin Meili," he said, each syllable a blade. "Do you have any idea how much shame you bring to this family? Do you even feel the humiliation you cause? You think you're an heiress, but all you've ever been is a stain, a worthless shadow of a girl."
My body trembled, not yet realizing the storm about to hit.
"You are weak," he continued, pacing slowly. "You let strangers beat you, you let our cousins laugh at you, and now you crawl back here expecting mercy. Don't delude yourself — this roof shelters you only because I allow it. One day, even that will be gone."
After saying those words, he moved.
His fists landed first — sharp, bone-crushing. Then his kicks, relentless and precise, raining down punishment with a precision that spoke of practiced cruelty. Every blow was meant to break me, every strike a reminder of my place in the hierarchy of this house.
By the time he stepped back, I was gasping, trembling, and soaked in pain. I could barely lift my head. He wiped his hands on his pants as if I were filth, sneered once, and then left, leaving the door swinging in silence.
The room was dark except for the slivers of evening light slicing through the blinds. My body was a tapestry of bruises and blood, my knees raw and still stinging from the tiles below. My ribs ached with every breath. My head throbbed, and tears stung my swollen eyes.
I collapsed onto the floor, curling around myself, trying to shield the pain I couldn't hide. Every joint screamed. Every muscle trembled. My uniform was torn, my skin marked by shame, humiliation, and brute force. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.
I lay there for hours, shivering in silence, every heartbeat a drum of torment, every memory a sharpened knife. My mind traced every humiliation of the day — from the ink-stained notebook at school to my stepfather's sneer, my mother's icy commands, my younger brother's cruel salt, and now my elder brother's wrath.
I wanted to scream. I wanted someone to save me. But no one ever would. Not my parents, not my siblings, not the ghosts of grandparents too proud or too cold to act.
So I lay there, broken in body, battered in spirit, and whispered to myself the only truth I could still claim:
"One day… they will all pay. One day, every single one of you will regret this. And I will be the one standing."
But for now, there was only pain. And the dark, suffocating silence of a room that had become my cage.