When Family Turns To Cruelty

The last thing I remember was the gnawing hunger, locked in the shed by my parents who believed my adopted sister' s outrageous lie.

"I'm a time-traveler!" Britney had shrieked, claiming I'd ruined our family in a past life and killed them.

My own parents, without a single question, bought her story, seeing her as a savior and me, their biological child, as a monster.

They bound me, broke my limbs, and left me for dead in our dark, dank basement, all to ensure Britney got everything I had worked for.

How could they be so blind, so cruel, so willing to believe a fantasy over their own daughter?

Then, I opened my eyes to sunlight, my body whole, only to hear Britney' s cheerful voice from downstairs, alive, on the very day she claimed to be a time-traveler.

The last thing I remember is the hunger.

It was a cold, gnawing emptiness that had consumed me for seven days and seven nights. Locked in the dark, dilapidated shed behind our house, the world had shrunk to the splintered wooden walls and the suffocating smell of mildew and dirt.

My parents had thrown me in here.

"You ruined Britney's life twice, and this time, you'll pay for it!"

My mother' s voice, sharp and full of hate, echoed in my mind. My father' s silence was just as damning. He had been the one to bolt the door shut.

It started on the eve of my college scholarship interview. It was the most important day of my young life, the culmination of years of hard work.

Then my adopted sister, Britney, had her dramatic breakdown.

"I'm a time-traveler!" she had sobbed, her body trembling. "I've come back from the future!"

She claimed that in her previous life, I had failed my interview. She said I suffered a mental collapse, became consumed by jealousy, and maliciously destroyed our family' s small tech startup. Our parents, she wailed, had ended up bankrupt and disgraced because of me.

And my parents, my own parents, believed her without a single question.

They saw Britney, their precious adopted daughter, as a savior. They saw me, their biological child, as a monster.

They locked me in my room to stop me from going to the interview. They dressed Britney in her finest clothes and sent her off to her own interview at a prestigious university, their faces glowing with pride.

I had screamed from my window, and a kind neighbor, Mrs. Davies, heard me and called the police. I broke the lock on my door and ran, arriving at my interview just in time.

But my escape had consequences.

When Britney heard I had made it to my interview, she was so distracted that she walked right into the path of a speeding delivery drone. She died instantly.

After a quiet funeral, a day after my scholarship results were announced, my parents' grief turned into a terrifying rage. They attacked me, dragged me to the shed, and locked me inside.

They left me to starve.

The pain was immense, but the betrayal was worse. As my vision faded, all I could think about was their faces, twisted with revulsion. My own mother and father.

Then, I opened my eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the familiar floral curtains of my bedroom. The air smelled of clean laundry, not decay. My body felt whole, not weak and emaciated.

I sat up, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked at my hands. They were smooth and healthy.

A cheerful voice drifted up from downstairs.

"Mom, can you iron my dress for tomorrow? The one for my university interview? I want to look perfect!"

It was Britney' s voice. Alive.

I scrambled out of bed and looked at the calendar on my desk. The date was circled in red ink: "Scholarship Interview."

It was today.

I had come back. I was back on the day Britney claimed to be a time-traveler.

I crept down the stairs, my movements silent. The memory of the shed, of the gnawing hunger, was so real it made my stomach ache.

In the living room, my mother was fussing over Britney, who was sitting at the dining table, a pout on her face.

"Chloe, what are you doing just standing there?" my father, Mr. Smith, snapped from behind his newspaper. "Britney is stressed about her interview. Go get her a glass of warm milk."

His tone was sharp, impatient. It always was when he spoke to me.

"She can get it herself," I said, my voice quiet but steady.

My father' s head whipped up from his paper. My mother stopped fluffing the collar on Britney's dress. Even Britney looked surprised. I was never one to talk back.

"What did you just say?" my father demanded.

Before I could answer, Britney suddenly started to tremble. Her face went pale, and she stared at me with wide, terrified eyes.

"Chloe..." she whispered, her voice shaking dramatically. "Don't... don't do it."

My parents' attention immediately shifted to her.

"Britney, baby, what' s wrong?" my mother asked, rushing to her side. "Are you not feeling well?"

Britney didn't look at our mother. Her eyes were locked on me, filling with tears.

Then, she did something that shocked everyone in the room. She slid off her chair and fell to her knees in front of me.

"Chloe, I'm begging you!" she cried, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "Please, don't kill them this time! Don't ruin our family again!"

The room went silent.

My mother and father stared, frozen.

Then my father moved. He shot up from his chair, his face a mask of fury, and crossed the room in two long strides.

SLAP!

The force of his hand sent my head snapping to the side. The sting on my cheek was nothing compared to the cold dread that filled me. It was happening again.

"What did you do?!" he roared, his face inches from mine. "What is she talking about?!"

Britney, still on the floor, began to sob uncontrollably.

"I've been reborn, Dad," she choked out between sobs. "I came back to save you! Chloe... in my past life, she destroyed everything. She killed you and Mom!"

My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

I wanted to scream, to tell them it was all a lie, a sick, manipulative performance. But I knew it was useless. They were already under her spell.

I took a step back, my eyes darting towards the front door. I had to get out of here.

But Britney was faster. She lunged forward and grabbed my ankle.

"Don't let her go!" she shrieked. "She's going to run away and ruin everything, just like before!"