"LIVING WITH A KILLER''
Fuck.
I'm living with a killer.
And not just any killer—my mother's.
Ethan. It's him. I know it now. I feel it like a splinter under my skin.
I clutch my hair, why did he do that?why the fuck did he do that?resisting the scream clawing up my throat. I can't scream. I can't cry. Not here—not with them listening. If I break down, they'll say I've lost it. That I'm unstable. They'll lock me in some pristine white therapy room and feed me lies through gritted teeth.
But I'm not crazy.
He is.
Ethan—the charming, polished devil. The one who pretended to take me in out of kindness, who fooled everyone with his soft voice and empty smiles. He killed my mother and wrapped it in silk, called it suicide, and no one questioned it.
Not even Aunt Serena.
She's still blind to it all. Or maybe she just doesn't want to see.
Some people bury their regrets in good deeds. Others bury them six feet under.
Ethan chose the latter.
When I lived with my mother, he was never around. Never visited, never even called. And now he parades around like some guardian angel?
He took me—for show. For guilt. Or maybe for sport. Some people don't see others as people. They see pieces. Bait. Tools. Toys in their twisted little games.
My mother didn't deserve that. And neither do I.
Or Aunt Serena.
And I swear—I'll make sure he pays.
I pull open my drawers and dig out the clothes I haven't worn since I arrived. Mine. I have to make them know that they cannot control me,starting with this.A black camisole clings to my skin, soft and defiant. I throw on a pair of ruffled shorts and run my fingers through my hair.
I glance at the butterfly by the window.
Sleeping.
Do butterflies even sleep? I don't know. But it looks peaceful. Free.
Unlike me.
I head downstairs without a word. No greeting. No pleasantries.
They both look up, startled.
I plop onto the chair, frog-sit, grab a croissant , and stuff my mouth. I don't pull on the napkin and don't meet their eyes. Crumbs everywhere.
Aunt Serena clears her throat delicately. "Ahem… Essa, are you okay?"
I don't look up.
"Hm. Never better," I mumble, mouth full.
"Oh. That's… nice. I don't see you in your, um, appropriate clothes?" Her voice wobbles slightly, and Ethan shifts in his chair.
I shrug. "Didn't feel like it. Why, though?my mother bought these for me"
The room falls silent.
Montricia meows softly from under the table. The clinking of teacups is the only sound filling the tension.
"Odess—"
"I gotta go and please do not disturb me.," I say flatly, cutting Ethan off. I grab a cookie, Montricia trailing behind me like a white shadow, and walk to my room without looking back.
I close the door.
Breathe.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can.
I lean against the door, exhale, and mutter, "Well, that felt ..good."
Montricia meows in reply.
I chuckle, scooping her up and collapsing onto my bed. She settles in my lap, purring like an engine.
I open my sketchbook, blank page staring back.
And I draw.
At first I don't know what I'm drawing.
But then… I do.
Cade.
His blue eyes that I made from the black charcoal look pretty,straight brows, curly blonde hair and a gentle smile on his lips that make Montricia place her paw right over his face.
"What? You don't like Cade?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Meow.
Grumpy as ever.
I glance around my room. White. Ghostly. The dolls on the shelf still stare with their empty glass eyes. I've gotten used to them. Kind of.
I walk to the dresser and drag my arm across the surface, sending jewelry, makeup, and hair tools crashing to the floor. I don't even flinch.
I open the walk-in closet, pull every pristine dress off its hanger, and toss them onto the floor in a sea of silks and satins. Disorder. Chaos. It looks right.
I climb into bed without folding anything. Montricia curls beside me.
It's petty. But I know it'll bother him.
I don't want to hurt Aunt Serena. Not really. But this… this is the only way to protect us both. I look at the butterfly,it's in the jar,I feel bad for it,trapped in here,so I do it.
I set it free.opening the jar and letting it out the window in the nature where it belongs and where it's safe. I will set myself free too one day.
And I'm just getting started.