Only i can hurt you

Chapter 3-The Accident

I was fourteen when the world broke apart. My mother died in the accident that night, but I survived. At least, that’s what everyone says. I was there, sitting beside her, yet my mind refuses to remember what truly happened. All I carry are faint flashes—the cold night air brushing my skin, the shriek of metal twisting, then silence. After that, nothing but darkness.

My father remarried soon after. Since then, this house has felt less like a home and more like a cage. My stepmother never hid her hatred for me. To her, I am nothing but a burden—someone standing in the way of what she wants. She reminds me often that the property, the house, everything, is in my mother’s name and was passed down to me. To her, I am an obstacle, not a daughter.

She doesn’t need fists to hurt me. Her words are enough. She whispers that people outside already know the truth—that I killed my mother,

My father never sees it. He’s always away on business trips, trusting her to care for me. He doesn’t notice the bruises on my spirit, the way silence has become my only defense. I wanted to go back to school, to live like other nineteen-year-old girls, but she says the world will spit on me, accuse me, point fingers I cannot fight. So I stay here, hidden, letting her voice echo in my head until it almost feels like my own.

But the nights are never quiet. That’s when the doorbell rings. Once. Twice. A third time. The shadow outside leaves folded notes at my door, waiting for me to find them.

And every time I hold one in my hand, I wonder what haunts me more—the stranger outside my door, or the woman inside this house.