Stucky's daughter

52

I hurriedly made my way downstairs, my mind still reeling from the morning's events. My dads soon arrived, ready to take me to school. The car ride was filled with a somber silence as we processed the weight of the previous day.

School proved to be mundane and uneventful, yet the absence of my dads when the final bell rang left me feeling a sense of abandonment. I returned home, ringing the doorbell, only to be greeted by Sharon opening the door. Annoyed and frustrated, I couldn't help but ask, "Where are my dads and the others?"

In a tone laced with irritation, Sharon responded, "They went on a mission. And don't speak to me like that!"

Rolling my eyes, I retreated upstairs, determined to focus on my homework. However, Sharon's persistent knocking disrupted my concentration. Annoyed, I opened the door and questioned her presence, "What?"

Without warning, she forcefully took hold of my arm, leading me to what she called the "time-out bench." According to her, my dads had granted her the authority to punish me. And so, I found myself sentenced to an hour of isolation on the bench, contemplating the unfairness of it all.

Once the hour had elapsed, I escaped to my room, burying myself in the completion of my homework. Seeking solace, I sat on my bed, lost in the comforting glow of my phone. However, my momentary respite was abruptly shattered as Sharon burst into the room, catching me off guard.

Mockingly, I quipped, "Knocking, perhaps?" attempting to assert my boundaries.

Surprisingly, Sharon's reaction was swift and forceful. She seized my arm and dragged me into the bathroom, her intentions malicious and unclear. Fearing the worst, I couldn't help but protest, "What are you doing, you...you witch?"

Before I could comprehend her intentions, she callously subjected me to the torment of a freezing cold shower. Shivering and in tears, I endured the relentless assault of the icy water. Hours passed, and still, she left me trapped within the bathroom, unable to walk or open my eyes.

Finally, the sound of the front door opening broke the oppressive silence. Sharon's voice echoed through the house, summoning me downstairs. Weary and soaked to the bone, I descended the stairs, my eyes landing on Steve, who bore a visible wound on his arm. Fueled by concern, I approached him, intending to tend to his injury. However, upon noticing my drenched state, he reacted with anger and disappointment.

"What did you do?" he questioned sharply, his grip tightening on my arm.

Still trembling and struggling to find my voice, I managed to whisper, "N...No... that's... not true..."

Seizing the opportunity to further her agenda, Sharon interjected, accusing me of neglecting my homework and hurling insults. Steve's disappointment grew, and his once-trusting eyes filled with doubt.

"Is that true, Y/N?" he pressed, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness.

"N-No... I..." I stammered, my words choked by tears.

Sharon interrupted with conviction, reinforcing her version of events, "Yes! Don't lie!"

The weight of their distrust and my own overwhelming emotions collided, prompting me to gasp for air, tears streaming down my face. In a haze of anguish and desperation, I fled the confines of the compound, running as fast as my weakened body would allow.

Into the depths of the surrounding woods, I sought refuge, collapsing to the ground, wracked with pain and sorrow. My anguished cries pierced the stillness as I clung to the earth, feeling its coolness beneath my trembling fingertips.

Moments later, I awoke from my torment, the remnants of tears staining my cheeks. The sound of my name being called pulled me back to reality, and instinctively, I rose to my feet, running towards the familiar sanctuary of the cemetery. Falling to my knees before Mia's grave, I unleashed my grief, crying out in despair.