____~Chapter 2: Relinquished Whisper~_____
Episode 6
(Why Is She Here?)
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"Damn it! I am ashamed to even think that I have a sister like you! You are repulsive! Now get out of my sight, you leach!"
Blake shoved me, and I stumbled—helpless—into the table's sharp edge, my head crashing with a sickening thud.
Ching—
A piercing sound echoed in my ears as pain ripped through my skull. A blinding, white-hot ache radiated from where I'd hit, growing sharper with each passing second.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
"Ngh~"
A small, broken sound escaped me, barely more than a breath.
Everything spun, blurring into a fog. I blinked, desperate to focus, but the dizziness only worsened. Everything—the noise, the pain, the cold floor beneath me—faded into a hazy swirl, distant and out of reach.
Then, the warmth. A slow trickle down my face. My fingers, trembling, touched something wet. Blood. It glistened dark and sticky on my fingertips. And in that moment, my heart started racing, pounding hard enough to match the relentless hammering in my head.
And just like that, it began—
A tingling sensation crawled from my lips, slowly spreading to my neck. What started as a faint itch grew stronger, more unbearable by the second.
My throat tightened, choking me, like I didn't even deserve to breathe.
Huff* Huff*
My heartbeat raced, pounding loudly in my ears, too fast, too frantic. My chest screamed for breath, but nothing worked, it was pathetic—shallow, broken gasps. Panic clawed at me, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
'No way... Was that drink really—?'
The thought flickered in my mind.
Hah!
I couldn't help but laugh at how absurd it all was.
'Of course, I did this to myself, didn't I?'
How fitting—too clueless to notice until it was too late.
"Nghh~"
Pain spiked. The air felt heavier, thicker, like I was suffocating in my own mess. My vision blurred, darkness closing in.
'Damn it! Why now?!'
I clutched my chest, desperate, but nothing was enough to stop it.
Gasp. Gasp.
The pressure in my chest was suffocating. I needed air. I needed something—anything—but all I could manage was a weak rasp, my body betraying me at every turn.
I wanted to get up, to yell, to ask for help, but it felt like I was sinking, like I'd somehow messed everything up again. My limbs were so heavy, dragging me into darkness, and I just couldn't fight it anymore.
"Gasp* Aghh~~~!"
"Hey, Lady! Get up! Don't close your eyes! Wake up, lady!"
The frantic scream of a woman and the desperate voice of a man barely registered in my foggy mind. Then a sharp pain pierced through the haze—an injection, maybe—but I couldn't bring myself to react. It was all slipping away, the sounds fading into a distant echo as darkness swallowed me whole.
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It was Seraphine's 16th birthday, and like every other year, an invitation arrived at my grandparents' house where I lived. But, as always, I ignored it, knowing it was never really meant for me. They hadn't even looked my way since that day ten years ago—the day everything shattered for good.
But, that year… It was different. Seraphine showed up at the door herself. It was the first time I had ever seen her alone, after that day 10 years ago.
Why is she here?
Panic surged through me, my heart racing. I could feel my stomach twist into knots, anxiety clawing at me. I wanted to hide, to retreat into the shadows, but there she was, smiling brightly, inviting me to her birthday party.
"I want you to come to my birthday party next week."
Seraphine said calmly, meeting my gaze.
My breath hitched, my heart stopping for a moment. I quickly looked away, my hands trembling.
"Ah… But, How can I?"
My voice cracked, fear gnawing at my insides. I was terrified.
"I've never asked you for anything before."
"..."
Her words stung. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"Think of it as my birthday gift."
She added, her voice like a noose tightening around my neck.
"B-But…"
I couldn't refuse her. I wanted to, oh, how I wanted to say no. But how could I? After what happened ten years ago, after all the guilt, how could I? I owed her everything. After all… I was a sinner… Her sinner.
"Ah… Alright. I will come."
I whispered, barely audible, my eyes glued to the ground. My chest felt like it was caving in, the fear suffocating me.
"..."
At Cecilia's words, something flickered in Seraphine's gaze—a gleam of triumph. Her pupils quivered, filled with something dark and unspoken. An unnatural smile stretched across her lips, a shadow lurking beneath its curve. Cecilia, lost in her own turmoil, missed it entirely.
The day of the party came, and for the first time in years, Cecilia returned to her parents' house, accompanied by her grandparents. The home, once a haunting ground of her nightmares, now sparkled with bright decorations, filled with people dressed in designer clothes, laughing and mingling.
She had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that something might be different this time. That maybe, just maybe, her family would see her, forgive her. But the cold stares, the distance—they hadn't changed. Nothing had.
Her mother's eyes narrowed, disgust etched on her face as soon as she caught sight of Cecilia. Her father, who once offered her awkward warmth, merely glanced her way with a slight frown. His forced smile felt hollow, as if he were playing a role for the guests—pretending everything was fine, that she belonged.
When Iris and Blake arrived, their bright smiles lit up the room, masking their true feelings like it was second nature. It was as if they were genuinely happy to see them—everyone but Cecilia.
Bruno didn't bother hiding his contempt, his sneer unmistakable. Edward, on the other hand, looked at Cecilia as if she were a ghost, his expression twisted with fear and guilt.
And then came the star of the party, Seraphine. The family that once looked at her with disdain now beamed with warmth, laughter filling the hall as they turned their attention to her sister. Their smiles were a stark contrast to the cold glances they shot Cecilia, which now felt even more menacing.
Seeing that, Cecilia felt herself wither beneath the weight of their stares. Shame and guilt curled tight in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She knew why they looked at her like that—all too well.
But does knowing really help? Can you really just swallow the way others see you, just because you understand their twisted reasons? Does knowing why they hate you make it easier?
No. It doesn't. It never does. The heart is too fragile for such things.
Sometimes, knowing just makes everything worse. It tears you apart, bit by bit, until there's nothing left.
And yet, the pain still lingers. A deep ache she can't quite explain.
Why does it hurt so much, even now? That... she couldn't understand.