I Sent Her to Hell

Allison Beckett had been adopted by the Schmidt family when she was only a little girl. She grew up surrounded by their care, and from childhood on, she had been promised in marriage to the family's son and future heir, Damian Schmidt. When she turned eighteen, Damian was suddenly kidn*pped. To save his life, Allison stepped forward and offered herself as a hostage instead. In the kidnappers' grasp, she endured horrors no one should ever face. They cut off her food and water for three straight days. She burned with a fever so fierce she almost slipped away forever. Yet on the fourth day, fate handed her one slim opening, and she seized it. She escaped and made her way back to Schmidt Manor. She arrived with her heart full of relief, convinced the nightmare was finally over. But the moment she stepped inside, she overheard Damian speaking to his parents in a voice cold as ice. "I'm not marrying Allison," he said flatly. "She spent three days locked up with those thugs. Who knows what they did to her? If you want this engagement to stay alive, send her straight to finishing school and wash that filth right off her." Those words landed like a punch to the gut. That single sentence sealed her fate. On her very first day at the finishing school, they stripped her naked and pricked a tattoo into her skin, a pattern meant to mark the cleansing of a soiled soul. The second day, she cooked ninety-nine elaborate dishes from scratch, then dropped to her knees and scrubbed the floors until dawn. The third day, they ordered her to dance barefoot on a sheet of iron heated until it glowed red. Four long years dragged by before Allison finally walked out those gates. The very first thing she did was head to the crematorium and reserve an urn for herself. "Ms. Beckett," the robotic attendant said in its flat mechanical tone, "your cremation service will begin the instant you pass. Pay the deposit today and settle the rest within one month. We wish you a vibrant life and a peaceful end." Allison barely heard the cold blessing. She reached into her ragged canvas bag, pulled out a fistful of coins, and counted them again and again with shaky hands before sliding the deposit across the counter. Three months earlier, during a routine physical at the school, doctors had found pancreatic cancer. It was already terminal. At best, she had one month left. Before she left this world, she had one last task. She had to return to Schmidt Manor and take back the pendant her birth mother had left behind, the one she had once given Damian as their token of love. The Schmidt Manor sat halfway up the mountainside. Allison changed buses twice and then walked for nearly half an hour. By the time night fell, she stood at the familiar front gate. She pulled in a slow, steady breath and knocked. The heavy door swung open. Damian's mother, Helga Schmidt, let out a delighted cry the moment she saw her. "Allison! Today is your graduation from finishing school. I told Damian to pick you up. Why on earth did you come back alone?" Allison turned her head with a numb, empty stare. There stood Damian after four long years, still wearing that same arrogant smirk. The only change was the woman at his side. It was her own half-sister, Bella Beckett. "Today is all on me," Bella said quickly. She stepped forward with a bright smile and caught Allison's hand. "Damian and I planned to drive over together and bring you home, but then my period hit like a truck. My stomach cramped so badly I could hardly move. Damian stayed back to look after me. You won't hold it against me, will you, sis?" "No," Allison answered, her voice so soft it almost disappeared. "I don't blame you." She turned toward the stairs, ready to gather her old things and ask for the pendant so she could leave for good. Before she took even one step, Damian's mocking voice sliced through the quiet. "Well, Allison, they say girls fresh out of finishing school can entertain in the parlor and cook in the kitchen like pros. Everyone's here tonight, so how about you whip up eight dishes, two soups, and a dessert for us?" Her whole body locked up. After a long, painful pause, she forced the words out, her throat tight and trembling. "I don't want to cook. Just give me my mother's pendant. Hand it over, and I'll go." Old memories crashed over her in a wave. Cooking was a required course at finishing school. If the ingredients weren't cut evenly, she would be whipped until her back bled. If she were even a second too slow tossing the wok, needles would be driven into her fingertips. Over those four years, Allison had gone from anger and resistance to pain... and then to numbness, coldness, and despair. Those nightmare days had wrapped around her like an airtight net, suffocating her little by little. "What's this? You don't feel like cooking?" Damian sneered. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he lifted his hand high. The pendant with its red cord dangled from his fingers. "Then I guess you don't want this either. Fine. I'll just smash it to bits." It was the only thing her mother had ever left her. The second she saw him raise his arm to hurl it to the floor, Allison's heart seized with panic.