The evening air was heavy with rain and exhaustion.
Ariel Volvolk tightened her worn cardigan around her thin shoulders as she trudged down the cracked pavement, the neon lights of the convenience store flickering behind her. Another twelve-hour shift. Another day of pretending everything was fine.
She could still hear her supervisor's voice barking orders as she'd left early. Her hands were red from scrubbing, her legs weak from standing too long. The mirror in the store's restroom had shown a stranger dull hair, hollow eyes, and skin pale as moonlight.
Once, she had been called the pampered miss of the Volvolk family. Now, she could barely afford a proper meal.
But Ariel didn't blame anyone.
She couldn't not when her aunt, the only "family" who had stayed by her side, told her over and over that her parents didn't care anymore.
"Sweetheart," Aunt Marianne had said, voice soft as silk, "you must understand. Your parents already have Serena. She's obedient, polished… everything they wished you were. You're better off proving them wrong here, with me."
Those words had been her comfort and her curse.
Ariel reached the small gate of her aunt's house. The porch light was off, but faint laughter leaked through the half-open window. Curious, she crept closer. Her shoes squelched in the mud as she leaned near the wall.
Inside, she heard her cousin's voice sharp and mocking.
"She really thinks her parents stopped sending money, Mom. How long do you plan to keep this up?"
"Until she's broken enough to stop asking questions," Aunt Marianne replied, her tone light with amusement. "Her parents still send the allowance every month. It's their guilt money they think Ariel prefers living with me. How pathetic."
Ariel froze.
"And she's still out there working part-time jobs?" the cousin laughed. "You've really turned that pampered brat into a maid!"
"A little humility suits her. I never liked how her mother flaunted her perfect little family. Now her precious daughter scrubs floors for pocket change. Poetic justice, isn't it?"
The words sliced through Ariel like shards of glass.
Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she covered her mouth to stop herself from making a sound.
"You should've seen her parents last week," Aunt Marianne continued, a cruel smile in her voice. "They begged me to tell them how she was doing. Said they missed her, that they'd send more money if I could just convince her to talk to them again. Ha! As if I'd ruin my fun now."
The world around Ariel blurred.
For three years, she had cursed her parents in her heart believed they had cast her aside, believed every poisonous whisper that her aunt fed her.
But it had all been a lie.
Her knees gave out, and she stumbled back, choking on a sob. Rain began to fall soft at first, then harder, until it drowned her shaking breath.
She ran.
Through the dark streets, past the flickering lights, past the life she had wasted believing in monsters wearing kind faces. Tears blurred her vision as memories crashed down like thunder her father's laughter, her mother's warm hands, her sister's smile. All the love she had thrown away.
"Mom… Dad… Serena…"
Her voice broke.
She didn't see the headlights.
Didn't hear the horn.
Only the sharp pain then nothing.
As she lay on the cold asphalt, her blood mixing with the rain, she thought she saw them again her parents' faces, pale with fear, calling her name as doctors rushed her down a white corridor.
"Ariel! Please stay with us!"
Her mother's voice echoed through the fading darkness.
If only… I could do it all over again.
And then, silence.