His Punishment Broke Me, I Died

Chapter 4

For the next few days, Henry blew up my phone with nonstop texts and calls.

He thought I was still throwing a tantrum, so he started by berating me for failing to see his so-called good intentions.

Henry: You're such a spoiled princess. I only asked you to live outside for two years, and you throw a suicide fit and wreck the house just because I stopped sending you money?

Henry: Sara, do you really think the whole world revolves around you? Do you think these five years have been easy for me? Haven't I been stuck in agony every single day waiting for you to come home?

Henry: You don't just wrong me, you wrong Mom and Dad too!

When he got zero reply from me, he switched gears and started sweet-talking me into going home.

Henry: It's been long enough, can't you see reason? Sara, we're biological siblings after all. I promise you, if you come home, I'll send Zendaya abroad. How does that sound?

Henry: Quit being stubborn. It's just an apology, I say I'm sorry and that's it. We can put all that old stuff behind us.

But no matter what he sent, every single one of his messages fell into dead silence, like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean. My radio silence never broke.

In the end, he gave up in disappointment.

Henry: You won't budge no matter what I do, huh? I've spoiled you rotten, that's the problem.

Henry: I actually felt guilty about this and wanted to make it up to you properly. Guess there's no point in that now.

Henry: Sara, starting today, I’m washing my hands of you. I’ll show you what real punishment feels like! Without me, you're nothing!

And he was right.

Ever since he announced he'd stop caring about me, my life has got so much worse.

Zendaya had bought people off with her cash, and more and more of them joined in on the bullying against me.

The new phone number I'd just got leaked out again. The second I turned my phone on every day, a flood of vicious, filthy messages poured in.

Someone dumped dog s**t right on my doorstep, and there was so much of it I could never clean it all up.

Scrawled in blood-red paint across the opposite wall was one giant, chilling word: Die.

It was breathtakingly horrifying just to look at.

The blood-curdling sound of a woman wailing always rose up in the dead of night, echoing from every corner of the house.

Anonymous packages kept arriving in the mail. Every box held either a dead rat or a creepy horror doll.

Even my neighbors were driven crazy by all the chaos. They knocked on my door several times, begging me to move out.

But none of this ever reached my brother. He was off on another international trip with Zendaya, and every now and then he'd send me a message on w******p.

Henry: Why'd you turn the camera off? You must be running out of money for food by now, right? Still not coming home?

Henry: The villa password hasn't changed. You can come back and live here. I'll talk Zendaya around, all you have to do is come home and apologize.

Henry: Fine. I know how stubborn you are. Let's see how long you can keep this up!

Yet none of it, all the harassment, all my brother's texts, mattered to me anymore.

Because right here, right now, I'd already made up my mind to put an end to this whole stupid farce once and for all.

I switched the security camera off, but I still couldn't shake the jittery feeling in my chest. So I ducked into the bathroom and locked the door tight behind me.

A blade sliced across my wrist. I'd done this before, so I knew what I was doing. I cut quick and deep, no hesitation.

Blood trickled down my arm in a winding stream, and every memory I'd ever shared with my brother started flashing through my head like an old movie reel.

It went back to when I was just a tiny one-year-old baby. The first word I ever spoke wasn't father or mother. It was my brother.

His face lit up right there under my parents' envious gaze, and he wrapped his hand around the tiny finger I held out to him.

From that day on, he spoiled me rotten.

When I started going to school, I hated doing homework. No one could make me do it, so I often got sent home with warnings for my parents.

When Mom flew into a rage and tried to s***k me, Henry threw himself right in front of me to take the hit.

"Mom, leave her to me. I'll tutor Sara."

I never listened to my teachers or private tutors, but I always listened to him.

After only six months of his tutoring, my grades skyrocketed. The day I got accepted into No. 1 High School, he ruffled my head proudly, a huge grin on his face.

"Sara, you're amazing! What reward do you want?"

When I was in middle school, I got into a fight with bullies and ended up with a broken arm.

When he found out, his face darkened instantly, and he chewed me out for being reckless, yelling at me for starting a fight.

But the very next morning, he showed up at my school gate, a wooden club clutched tight in his hand.

"Who hurt my sister? Get the hell out of here!"

It was strange, wasn't it?

I thought my last moments would be flooded with all the pain, grief and crushing despair I'd gone through these five years.

But as my consciousness slowly faded, all that lingered in my mind were the good things he'd done for me.

I tugged the corner of my mouth into a bitter, self-mocking smile. Then I reached for my phone. With my blood-stained fingers, I dialed my brother's number.

It had to be the middle of the night in Paris, but he still picked up in seconds.

He spoke first, his tone gruff and awkward, "Finally ready to apologize, huh? So you finally admit you were wrong, yeah?"

Listening to his slightly rough voice, I forced the words out of my throat, barely a whisper, "I'm giving you my life. Can the punishment end now?"

"What do you mean—"

Panic sharpened my brother's voice instantly. But I couldn't hear anything he said after that.

The phone slipped out of my palm and hit the floor with a thud.

I slowly closed my eyes.

Henry... this time, you don't get a chance to save me.