She Played Victim, I’ll Unmask Her

Chapter 3

I lay in bed that night, wide awake, not a single ounce of sleepiness in my bones.

When my birth mother came to check on me, I pretended to be fast asleep.

She turned down the AC fan speed for me, and after stepping out of the room, she said to my birth father waiting outside, "Fatima is way too scheming for a kid her age. She even made a snide comment earlier, implying Selena's birth parents swapped the two of them on purpose."

My birth father's voice was ice-cold when he replied, "Why are you always assuming the worst of your own daughter? Fatima was just trying to comfort her, that's all... Besides, what she said is the truth."

My birth mother sighed heavily. "Selena is my daughter too. You can't start treating her badly just because Fatima is finally back home."

My birth father didn't answer that.

The two of them turned and headed back to their bedroom.

Yeah, I heard every single word. I'm not deaf. I'm not mute either.

It was all an act.

Even when I was really little, I knew my parents didn't like me. I just had no idea why.

That changed when I was five, during that terrible fever. I heard them talking, and I finally learned I wasn't their real kid.

They said they didn't even want to take me to the doctor. It'd be better if I died at home.

They said, "At least then they wouldn't have to worry about me finding out their little secret."

So when I fought off that fever all by myself and got back on my feet, I made a choice. I'd pretend I couldn't hear or speak for good.

From that day on, the couple I called my adoptive parents let their guard down completely around me. That was how I pieced together the truth of who I really was.

Click.

My bedroom door swung open. I jolted out of my memories. The person standing there was Selena.

She stood by the head of my bed, staring at me for ages. When she was convinced I was "sound asleep", she turned and left again. This time, though, she didn't close the door behind her at all.

A gut feeling hit me out of nowhere, she was coming back.

I scrambled out of bed immediately, flipped around, so my head was where my feet had been, and tucked a long-haired doll under the covers at the other end, right where my head would have been.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Selena crept back in. She fumbled around the desk for a bit, and then I heard the low gurgle of an electric kettle starting to heat up.

Minutes later, the kettle clicked off, its water piping hot and ready.

She ripped the covers off me in one sharp yank and poured the entire kettle of scalding water straight down onto "my head."

I couldn't yank my foot out of the way fast enough, and the boiling water seared my skin.

I didn't even stop to think about the pain. I shot straight up off the bed, grabbed one of Selena's wrists, and slammed her arm hard against the edge of the desk.

I heard a sickening c***k of bone breaking. Selena howled like a pig being led to s*******r.

My birth mother was the first to burst into the room. She flipped on the light, saw Selena writhing on the floor in agony, and immediately yanked her into a tight, panicked hug.

"Selena! What's wrong?!"

Before she could even get a word out, my birth mother snarled at me like a raging lioness, "What did you do to Selena?!"

My birth father and the nanny rushed in right behind her.

I stared at the chaos unfolding in front of me, terrified, and huddled under the covers, shaking like a leaf.

Just then, my birth father caught sight of the steaming doll by the head of the bed, and my right foot, already blistering badly from the scald.

He swept me up in his arms and bolted for the bathroom to run cold water over my burn.

Outside, my birth mother was screaming so loud her voice was cracking.

"Sara! Selena's hurt! Call 911, now!"

Both Selena and I were rushed to the hospital.

My burn wasn't too bad, only covering half the top of my foot. Since we'd treated it right away, I just needed to put on some burn ointment and let it heal. Selena, though, had snapped her left forearm, that sharp c***k from earlier still ringing in my ears.

Luckily, she didn't need surgery, all they had to do was put it in a splint.

When they were securing the splint, she wailed at the top of her lungs like a stuck pig.

Between sobs, she accused me of breaking her arm on purpose. My birth mother hovered over her the entire time, crying so hard she was a mess of tears.

But when she looked at me? Her gaze was so sharp and hateful she might as well have been ready to tear me apart with her bare hands.

She held Selena tight, pointed a finger straight at me, and spat, "I can't believe how vicious you are! If I'd known you'd turn out like this, I never would have brought you home!"

My birth father swatted her pointing hand away. "That's enough! Are you bullying Fatima because she can't speak up for herself?"

My birth mother had clearly seen the wet, water-stained spot by my bed, and she'd seen my burned foot. But she didn't say a single word to question Selena about it.

I felt like my heart was a cold, forgotten stone tucked in a damp, shadowy corner on a rainy day, and my birth mother was that slimy, dank layer of green moss creeping all over it.

That cold, clinging moss wrapped around me so tight I could barely breathe.

Finally, both of our treatments were done.

When we got back home, Selena curled up weak and miserable in my birth mother's arms, sobbing, while my birth mother glowered at me and snapped, "Fatima, why did you break her arm? She's been nothing but kind to you, she even gave you her favorite bedroom! What more do you want?!"

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face.

My birth father, though, turned to Selena and asked, "Selena, how did Fatima get burned on the foot?"

Selena's eyes skittered nervously, and she flinched back a little.

"Daddy, I was half asleep. I thought her room was mine, so I walked in by mistake. I wanted to boil some water to drink, but I knocked the kettle over by accident. I guess that's how I burned her, but I didn't mean to! I had no idea she'd be so cruel, she just lashed out and broke my arm!"

My birth father turned back to look at me.

I pulled out my writing pad and scribbled down my words, since I still kept up the act of being mute.

Dad, I was asleep, then the pain in my foot jolted me awake. I thought Mom...

I hesitated for a second, then crossed out the word "Mom".

I thought my adoptive parents were throwing boiling water on me. I just wanted to shove them away and run. I didn't know it was Selena.

Dad's brows twitched with raw heartache. "Fatima, your adoptive parents hit you all the time, didn't they?"

I darted a quick glance at Selena, pressed my lips tight together, and said nothing. But Dad was plenty sharp. He already knew exactly what had gone down.

He tapped a finger against my damp headboard, then picked up the sopping, still-steaming doll.

"Selena, if Fatima had been sleeping with her head on this end tonight, that whole pot of boiling water would've ruined her face for life!"

Selena sniffled. "Dad, I really didn't mean it..."

Dad let out a cold, sharp laugh. "I remember you drink iced water even in the dead of winter. Now it's the hottest part of summer, and you're suddenly boiling water to drink?"

Selena coughed twice, fumbling for an excuse. "Dad, my throat's sore, so I wanted to make some hot water—"

"Enough." Dad cut her off mid-sentence, then told Sara to change my sheets and bedding for me.

He turned to me, his hard expression softening a little. "Fatima, lock your door from the inside when you sleep from now on."