Chapter 2

Adela stood in front of the defogged mirror in her en-suite bathroom.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, her teeth chattering as the residual chill of the pool water seeped deep into her bones. Her lips were tinted a sickly shade of pale blue, and every breath she took felt like inhaling crushed glass.

She stared at her sixteen-year-old face.

There were no scars on her cheeks.

She rubbed a towel aggressively over her wet hair, confirming the physical reality that she had returned to three years ago.

A massive force slammed into the heavy mahogany door of her bedroom.

The door flew open and hit the wall with a loud bang.

Preston marched into the room, bringing a wave of cold air and raw anger with him.

Brock stood right behind him in the doorway, supporting Kalyn, who was still wrapped in the blanket.

Preston pointed a rigid finger directly at Adela's face.

"Why the hell did you lose your mind and push Kalyn into the water?" he demanded.

Adela tossed her damp towel over the back of a chair.

She suppressed a violent shiver, forcing her freezing muscles to lock into place. She looked at him with eyes that held zero emotion.

Preston flinched slightly.

The dead, stranger-like look in her eyes stung his ego, making his voice rise an octave higher.

He started his usual gaslighting routine, lecturing Adela about how she was born jealous and malicious.

Brock chimed in from the door.

"This family gave you everything, and you are completely ungrateful," Brock sneered.

Kalyn reached out from under her blanket and tugged gently on Brock's sleeve.

"Please don't be mad at her," Kalyn said, her voice shaking with fake tears. "My sister just slipped. She didn't push me on purpose."

Hearing Kalyn's pathetic defense only solidified Preston's belief that Adela was a monster.

"Walk over to that door right now and bow your head to apologize to Kalyn," Preston ordered.

Adela turned her back to him.

She walked to her vanity, picked up a jar of moisturizer, and slowly began rubbing the cream into her hands.

Her shoulders were relaxed.

There was no panic, no trembling, none of the fear she used to show.

Preston's jaw clenched. He took three large steps forward, reaching out to snatch the glass jar from her hands.

Before his fingers could graze her skin, Adela placed the jar firmly onto the wooden table.

She turned around and looked straight into Preston's aggressive eyes.

Her voice was flat and steady, cutting right through his loud lecture.

"Yes. I pushed her," Adela said clearly. "Because I hate looking at her."

The words acted like a mute button.

The entire room fell into a dead silence.

The fake tears Kalyn had prepared stopped right in her eyes, making her face look ridiculous.

Preston choked on the rest of his psychological abuse.

The words died in his throat.

He felt a massive wave of frustration, like he had just thrown his hardest punch into a brick wall.

Brock turned red. He pointed at Adela.

"You are completely sick in the head!" Brock yelled.

Adela raised her hand and pointed at the open doorway.

"Since I am guilty, I need to rest," she said. "Get out of my room."

The veins on Preston's forehead bulged against his skin.

He opened his mouth, but he could not find a single angle to attack her from.

Adela walked right up to them, grabbed the heavy door, and slammed it shut in their faces.

She turned the deadbolt with a loud click.