“Enough!” Mitchell snapped.
Consumed by rage, he lashed out, kicking Maggie hard enough to send her sprawling. He pinned her to the ground, his hands
tightening around her throat.
His fury wasn’t just for her–it was for himself, the man who had once failed his sister.
Maggie struggled beneath him, blood pooling beneath her as her body convulsed. She miscarried.
She screamed, lunging at Mitchell in a fit of hysteria, but he watched her coldly as she was dragged into a car–the same car that
had once taken me to that dreadful school.
“My sister suffered,” he said icily. “Now, it’s your turn.‘
“I
As my body slowly healed, I resumed my studies in college, piecing together the life I had left behind.
I made new friends and started over, slowly stitching the fragments of my soul back together.
But I couldn’t bring myself to return to that house. It suffocated me.
Every month, Mitchell sent me large sums of money. He told me he had given me everything he earned.
On holidays, he would timidly ask if I would come home, his voice fragile and desperate.
During my third winter in college, I received a call.
Mitchell was gravely ill.
When I arrived at the hospital, he was gaunt and frail, his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes a stark contrast to the man he once was.
Yet, when he saw me, he forced a smile.
“Nora,” he murmured. “You’ve grown so beautiful.”
“What happened to you?”
“I’m dying,” he said simply. “But I haven’t atoned enough. When will you finally forgive me?”
He reached out, his hand trembling as it lightly clasped mine.
“Maggie went insane. They put her in a psychiatric hospital,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “And now… my time’s
almost up. Everything I have, it’s all yours.”
His eyes filled with sorrow as he gazed at me. “Nora, I’d give anything for you to say you forgive me and treat me as your brother
again.”
That day, the first snow of the season began to fall, white flakes drifting gently past the hospital window.
For the last time, I called his name, saying I had forgiven him. I didn’t know if he heard me.
He never opened his eyes again, though a single tear slipped down his cheek.
As I watched the snow dance outside, memories of our childhood resurfaced–of us building a snowman together, and our mother snapping photos while we laughed.
We were so happy then.
I wished I could go back to those days. But there was no going back anymore.
