CHRISTIANNA

--- Anne had always been home-schooled. No one could quite explain why — not even her mother, Rebecca, who moved through the house as though walking on eggshells. She was always careful, always cautious, forever trying to stay on Anne’s good side. Anne’s temper wasn’t just a mood — it was a character of its own. On some days, she wouldn’t speak to anyone. She would stay in her room with the curtains drawn, refusing meals and eating only apples. Not just any apples, but the ones from a particular tree in their compound — a tall, gnarled thing that stood in the backyard like a sentry. No one knew why that tree mattered so much to her. It just did. When she was eight years old, her father, Marcus, once told her she couldn’t have the apples anymore. That day, Anne locked herself in her room. The next day, chaos erupted. She tore the wallpaper off the walls with her fingernails. She swept every item off her reading table, breaking a glass sculpture her father had brought back from one of his travels — a gift he treasured more than she did. She ran scissors across the rug, shredding the fabric while screaming at the top of her lungs. Rebecca and Rose, the house assistant, banged on the door, pleading with her to stop. Her younger brother, Marcel — only three years old then — stood in the hallway, clutching a toy, wide-eyed and silent. When Marcus returned home later that evening, Anne had already left the house. Her room was a disaster. Rebecca was in their bedroom, crying into her hands. Between sobs, she asked him, “Where have we gone wrong?” Marcel sat quietly in a corner, playing with his toy car like nothing had happened. Marcus couldn’t sit still. Something in him had shifted — a discomfort, an unease that never fully left the household again. Over the years, that tension became a silent companion in their home, only ever disrupted by one person — Rebecca’s brother, Vincent. Anne adored her Uncle Vince. He was the only one who could get through to her, the only one who could shift her mood. With him, she smiled, she laughed, she listened. He became her anchor in a world the rest of her family didn’t seem to understand. Now, Anne was sixteen — and for the first time, she was preparing to attend school outside the home. Courtesy of Uncle Vince (as she addressed Vincent). It was Vincent’s idea, and she had agreed to it. On one condition: Uncle Vince would drop her off on the first day, and on any other day he was around. Rebecca was elated. Maybe this would change something. Maybe this was the beginning of something new. ---