The door splintered. Wood cracked and groaned as the makeshift barricade collapsed, scattering shards across the floor. My ears rang with the echo of the impact. I lay motionless in a cold, sticky pool. My body ached, throbbing, burning—a thousand wounds screaming at once. Tears blurred my vision and when I tried blinking them away, the sting only deepened. All I could see were the polished tips of black shoes stepping over the wreckage and the blinding sweep of flashlights.

The ropes fell away, frayed and bloodstained. A pair of gloved hands lifted me off the floor. The sudden movement sent sharp, searing pain radiating from the deep cuts on my back. A broken sob clawed its way up my throat, but only a hoarse rasp escaped. My voice was gone, stolen by the hours of screaming. A single, desperate thought echoed in my mind:

Why?

The world swayed as the paramedics carried me down the stairs. Each jolt sent a fresh wave of agony crashing through my body. I tried to cry out, to make a sound, any sound, but the effort yielded nothing but a dry rasp. My limbs twitched, convulsing beyond my control, and a sickening blackness crept at the edges of my vision.

Then—crack!—a deafening clap of thunder split the sky.

It yanked me back from the abyss, jarring me awake just long enough to feel the icy sting of rain as someone threw open the front doors. Cold air rushed in, sharp and unforgiving, biting through the thin blanket draped over my shoulders. The blanket was already soaked, useless against the storm. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the earthy scent of wet stone and flashing red and blue lights painted the courtyard in a dizzying, strobe-like dance.

Why?

Another jolt. Another wave of nausea. The slam of a car door. And then—

"Oh Gods! Amelia!" A raw, broken cry cut through the rain like a blade.

Grandmother!

She was here! A disheveled figure in the storm. Her grey-black hair clung to her face, and terror filled her wide eyes. "Oh honey, what did she do to you?" Her voice cracked, splintering like the door had moments before. Tears streamed down her face. "I'm so sorry!" Her hands trembled, hovering—close enough to touch me but too afraid, too gentle, as though even the smallest brush would shatter me completely.

I wanted to reach for her, to tell her it wasn't her fault, to ask the question that burned in my soul. My body refused to obey. Grandmother turned to the paramedics, her voice a blur of frantic words I couldn't grasp. The rain, the sirens, the roar of the storm—it all folded into one deafening noise.

Paramedics opened the ambulance doors, and then lifted me inside. Finally, out of the rain. A pair of tiny trembling hands found mine, and I forced my head to turn. Every muscle in my neck screamed in protest.

Emily.

Her wide green eyes met mine, red rimmed and bloodshot. Her tear-streaked face was a mess of blotchy red. She was too young for this. Too small, too fragile. She shouldn't have to see me like this.

The guilt was a blade, twisting deep

My jaw tightened, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the burning tears. It was my fault. I should have protected her from this. I needed to be strong. Have to make it right, even if I don't know how.

My fingers curled around hers, squeezing gently and even though the movement shot a river of fire down my back, I reached to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Ama..." she cried. Her lower lip trembled under her thumb and I gave her a weak smile.

Everything would be okay. I mouthed.

A lie.

The front doors to the manor opened, and Emily flinched, her small body tensing as she scrambled deeper into the ambulance.

The police had brought her out.

Grandmother spun around, her face contorted with rage. "What did you do to her, Olivia?!" she screamed, her voice nearly lost in the thunder.

Mother.

Standing in the rain. White nightgown stained crimson. Her long black hair clung to her pale face, a dark veil framing wide unseeing eyes—empty, hollow, like a doll's.

She was a ghost. A shadow.

A monster I couldn't bear to look at.