Denise's mind drifted away as she thought of what awaited her in her new school, when she walked in silence along the narrow path lined with lush flowers on both sides.

Would she be able to make new friends? Memories of her old, lonely school crept in, but at least she had her sister then. Perhaps this could be a fresh start…maybe things would go differently. Brushing her arms against the flowers, she tried to calm her nerves.

She followed Aunt Lilian, passing through corridors lined with classrooms and offices until they reached a door marked ‘REGISTRAR’ in bold letters. Aunt Lilian knocked on the door, and a raspy voice replied, “Come in, please.”

She turned the handle and stepped inside, with Denise following closely.

“ You are welcome, please have a seat,” the registrar said, and gestured to the chair opposite her desk.

The office was small but neat and books were arranged carefully on a shelf to the left, and stacks of files sat in tidy piles on both sides of the desk. A telephone and computer sat on the desk in front of the woman, who wore a black knee-length skirt and a white blouse. She looked to be in her early fifties, Denise guessed.

“Mrs. Lilian, right?” the woman asked, her lips curving into a warm smile. She turned to Denise. “And this is…?”

“Denise Larsson, my niece,” Aunt Lilian replied.

“Okay, I’m so happy to have you join us, Denise. Feel free to come to me whenever you need anything,” she said warmly, donning her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a form, smoothing it with her palm before handing it to Aunt Lilian.

“Please, fill it out correctly, use capital letters when necessary,” she instructed politely.

Reaching into the small candy box at the corner of her desk, she unwrapped one for herself, then held the box toward Denise. “Do you want one, Denise?”

Her eyes roamed Denise’s face longer than necessary, studying her with gentle curiosity as she absorbed every detail.

“No thanks,” Denise declined, earning a disappointed sigh from her aunt, though she barely noticed. She wasn't supposed to be here, she hated it. Every part of this office, the sweet smell of candies, all of it reminded her of what she had lost. Flashbacks pulled her to a time when she was living happily with her parents and sister,unaware of the tragedy that would soon change everything.

—

“Wake up, Agatha ,wake up!” Denise shouted, shaking her sister's shoulders, Agatha had always been a deep sleeper.

“Leave me alone, you little monster,” she mumbled, rolling over.

“Ahhh!” Denise groaned, frustrated, she pressed a pillow over Agatha's face, watching in amusement for a few seconds as she flailed and kicked about. Unfortunately, it was the only way to pull her back to reality.

“Stop it!” Agatha yanked the pillow away, gasping for air. “Is it morning already?” she asked, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Why do we have to get up so early?”

“Because Mom says so,” Denise replied, heading to the bathroom.

“This isn’t fair, we are on summer break, we should be allowed to sleep till noon,” Agatha wailed, her voice muffled through the walls.

Denise rolled her eyes “ mom always insists we have breakfast together.”

Coming out of the bathroom, Denise found Agatha still sprawled on the bed, staring at the white ceiling lost in thoughts. She tiptoed downstairs, sneaking into the kitchen to snag a cookie. But the moment she saw her mom already there with a knowing look, she paused in the doorway.

“Good morning, sweetie those cookies are for breakfast,” her mom said, pointing at the tray of hot, freshly baked cookies on the counter.

Denise helped her mom set the breakfast table. Her dad, already dressed for work, sat in the dining area. When he noticed her, he looked up and smiled.“Good morning, angel.”

She smiled back and took a seat as the three of them gathered for breakfast.

Agatha joined shortly after, her black wavy hair still damp from the shower. Breakfast was simple, white bread, freshly baked chocolate cookies, crisp salad, and two steaming cups of tea and coffee for her parents.

Her mom set a plate of warm, toasted bread with butter and a side of salad in front of her. Denise groaned loudly, poking at the greens with her fork. “Mom, can I have some cookies now, please?” she pleaded, gently pushing the salad away.

“Sure, but only after you finish your salad, sweetie,” Mom replied with a smirk.

Agatha, meanwhile, was fully immersed in savoring hers, eyes closed in appreciation, earning a proud nod from their mother. Unlike Denise, she had always loved salad and wouldn't missed an opportunity to lecture her sister about how nutritious it was.

Denise shot her a side-eye, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move. When her mom stood to pour her dad a cup of coffee, she seized the chance. Dumping her salad onto Agatha’s plate — unbeknownst to Agatha, who was too absorbed in discussing her plans for the day.

They were barely done eating when the home phone rang,and Dad hurried over to answer it. They couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he returned moments later, announcing that he was leaving for work early due to a minor issue at the office.

“Then I’ll have to go with you today, my car is still at the mechanic’s,” Mom said, rushing into the bedroom to grab her bag. “Agatha, clear the table after you two finish eating, okay? And Denise, don’t eat too many cookies. Too much sugar isn’t good for you.”

“Heard you, Mom. Love you,” Denise said as she kissed her cheeks before going out.

“That can’t be a minor issue,” Agatha said in a low voice.

They spent their holiday watching soap operas, playing puzzle games, gardening, and baking cakes or cookies…which they were hopelessly bad at. On some days, Mom would come home with a small stack of books from the library where she worked. “To improve your vocabulary,” she always told them, waving them like gifts she couldn’t wait for them to open.

Other days, Agatha would slip out with her friends, usually bribing Denise with sweets to keep her silent about those little escapes. Nevertheless, school holidays were the best time for the sisters to bond, even with their small acts of mischief.

***

That day, they were busy in the garden, weeding and watering the plants, when a car rolled into the driveway.

“Who is that?” Agatha asked, stepping up behind Denise.

“I have no idea. I’m going to check it out,” Denise replied, taking a few careful steps toward the car for a better view. The window rolled down slowly, but the driver’s head stayed slumped against the steering wheel, unmoving.

“What is he doing?” she whispered, her steps growing more cautious.

The man finally stepped out, and when his face came into view, Denise recognized him, it was her dad’s brother, Uncle Andrew. She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and he lifted her effortlessly, pulling her into a tight embrace

“You’ve grown so big, Denise. No food left for the rest of us, huh?” he joked, though it landed poorly. Maybe because his eyes were red and swollen, or his voice sounded rougher than she remembered.

Agatha approached slowly, her head slightly lowered, her gaze anywhere but his face. She would have run If she had the opportunity.

Denise knew that look, the memories that haunted her sister.

She recalled the incident on her birthday three years ago, the moment that made her see her sister differently.

---

After the party, Denise had been upstairs in the nursery, playing with the other kids. Downstairs, the adults were drinking and talking about the good old days, lost in their own world. But the joy was cut short when Matthew, Uncle Andrew’s son, snatched one of Denise’s presents, a remote-controlled racing car she had just unwrapped.

“Give it back, it’s mine!” Denise cried, reaching for it.

Matthew pushed her to the floor, laughing with the other kids as if it were all a game.

“It’s mine now, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he said, his tone icy.

Denise ran to her room in tears, too frightened to tell anyone. It was supposed to be her special day, yet all she felt was a deep, crushing disappointment.

“Denise?” she heard Agatha calling for her. “Where the hell is my favorite, oops, I mean… my only sister?” Agatha muttered as she scoured the hallway. Then she pushed open their bedroom door and halted when she saw her crying.

Denise scrambled onto the bed, turning her face away. She didn’t want to cause any problems, especially not today.

“What happened?” Agatha asked, her voice turning into a snarl. “Why are you crying?” She sat beside her and pulled her close, wiping her tears with the hem of her shirt.

“It’s nothing,” Denise replied. “I was playing with Miya when I hit my hand… it just hurt a little.” She tried to make the lie sound believable.

Agatha wasn’t buying it. She grabbed Denise’s wrist, examining it carefully.

“There is no bruise,” she said, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “Are you lying to me?”

That question shattered her. Denise couldn’t hold it in anymore, tears burst out of her again.

“Matthew took my racing car,” she admitted. “And he said he’d beat me up if I told anyone.”

Agatha shot to her feet, anger flooding her face. Without another word, she stormed out of the room. Denise followed slowly, dread curling in her stomach.

“Matthew! Matthew!” Agatha’s voice cracked like a whip as she charged into the nursery. “How dare you make my sister cry?” Every word dripped with fury.

Denise couldn’t see anything from the doorway, but the shrill screams, the crash of breaking glass, and children running out with wide, shocked eyes told her it wasn't good.

The adults rushed upstairs, and soon Matthew was being taken to the hospital, blood spilling from his jaw. That night, Agatha was punished severely and grounded for the rest of the year.

—

She could feel the guilt and shame weighing on her sister, given her refusal to apologize for what had happened.

“Come over, kiddo,” Uncle Andrew called out, his voice drained of all its usual warmth.

“I, I’ll go call Dad,” Agatha mumbled, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.

“No!” he yelled, louder than either of them expected. He put Denise down gently and moved closer, taking Agatha’s hands.

“Why don’t you go inside and get your things, and Denise's packed. We are going somewhere.”

Agatha frowned. “I don’t understand. Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you two…”

“Where? And why can’t I call my parents?” Agatha demanded, her face shifting from confusion to suspicion.

Denise stood still, watching everything unfold as if she were a spectral figure. Uncle Andrew moved forward and stood in front of Agatha, then went down on one knee and hugged her tightly as tears slid down his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

“What is going on?” But the questions only made him cry harder.

“Your parents…they had an accident,” was all he managed to mutter before he completely broke down.

“ What…? How did this happen? Where…where are they? I want to see them now!” Agatha pulled away from his arms and ran to her sister.

Denise froze as her world lost every breath in it. She felt Agatha tug at her, urging her to move, but her legs didn't respond. She waited for him to get up laughing, one of his dry jokes again, but that never happened.

She didn't hear his next words, or maybe she didn’t want to, but she knew they were heart wrenching. When Agatha rushed into the house, tears streaming down her face as she clutched their family photo tightly to her chest. “No,no,no…”

The funeral was held in their hometown. A somber gathering of families, friends, relatives, coworkers, their teachers, and Agatha's friends who came to pay their respects. It was the cloudiest day of Denise's life. Even the black theme of the day seemed pale compared to the darkness that had taken residence in her heart. Realizing she would never again taste Mom’s cookies, feel her fingers brushing her hair, or make love cards on Dad’s birthday made her lose taste for living.

Denise was only able to survive because of her sister, who became the rock she leaned on.

After days of intense discussions between the two families, it was decided that it was best the girls go live with Aunt Lilian, who was a widow.

So that was how they left the city for the quiet life of the town. Aunt Lilian always made them feel comfortable and happy, going the extra mile to do that. She was genuinely kind to them, and Denise was grateful they had her. But, no matter how warm her home was, she could never replace their parents.

Aunt Lilian worked at the local postal office, and every time she went to work, Denise and her sister would wander down to the stream, enjoying the serene silence that wrapped around the water. It became their refuge. But Saturdays were much more lively, they could go to the movies, parks, or attend gallery auctions, and they even went camping once. Sundays were for church, long hours of sermons followed by Bible quizzes at home, where the winner could request anything she wanted. Denise wished she could have her parents back, but that was impossible, even to the Almighty God.

Agatha still kept in touch with her friends, and when they came visiting, they brought large bags of chips, vanilla cupcakes, and plenty of sweets for Denise. Life seemed okay, or at least that's what everyone thought. Unknown to them, Denise was being bullied.

The girls in the neighborhood had become a constant pain in the ass. At first, it was just verbal taunts and mocking, which she shrugged off, telling herself the girls were just acting out because of their own broken homes. But the harassment escalated quickly. Soon they were throwing sticks at her, yet she stayed silent, afraid that if she spoke up, she would be sent away.

Sadly, things didn't go as she hoped. That day, on her way back home from the salon, she was cornered by two mean-looking girls, who blocked her path. “What do you want?” She asked, glancing around for anyone who might help, but it was a lonely pathway.

The taller girl stepped forward, landing a brutal blow to Denise's nose. She cried out and stumbled as the girl taunted, “Come on, get up and fight me back, you little piece of shit.”

Denise got up, one hand clamped over her nose as warm blood seeped through her fingers.

“Oh, looks like someone got a broken nose,” the second girl sneered, kicking her on the stomach. “But that's not going to stop us from teaching you a lesson,” she added with a vicious kick to Denise’s face, sending her collapsing to the ground.

Blood dripped from Denise’s mouth as she tried to get up, but a sharp pain tore through her body, forcing her back down. The world turned blurry, and the ground spun beneath her. One of the girls picked up a large stick and raised it, aiming it at her. Denise closed her eyes, bracing for the worst when a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

“Don’t you dare.”

She opened her eyes to see the girl with the stick charging at her sister, but Agatha moved quickly, dodging the wild swing before sending the attacker crashing to the ground with a sharp kick to the chest. Without hesitation, she went after the other girl, pinning her to the ground. Agatha grabbed a sharp-edged stone and pointed it at the girl's face.

“Please,” the girl begged through tears, “I wasn't the one hurting her, please.” Agatha's eyes blazed with fury. “If you ever lay a finger on my sister ever again, I promise I will hunt you down and torture you to death.”

“I won't… I swear, please let me go.” She whimpered. The other girl, still on the ground, scrambled backwards on her palms, realizing too late that Agatha wasn't the kind of person you picked a fight with.

“Get lost.” Agatha ordered.

Neither of the girls needed to be told twice before they stumbled to their feet, tripping over each other as they ran down the path, without looking back. Only when they were gone did Agatha let the stone fall from her hand. The rage drained from her face as she turned to Denise lying on the ground. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, lifting her gently as she inspected her injuries.

“I think my nose is broken,” Denise muttered. Agatha crouched down and guided Denise onto her back. She obeyed, resting her face against her sister's shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around her.

“No more going out alone,” Agatha stated, her voice firm but trembling with fear she couldn't hide. Denise didn’t reply, as the pain made speaking difficult.

“Ow…ouch, it hurts,” she winced when the nurse cleaned her nose.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t broken,” she assured her. “Just a small cut.”

“I’m all done,” she added soothingly, applying the pain reliever and plastic strips. Denise got some stitches on her face; that would definitely leave a scar, but that was the least of her worries. She was more shaken by Aunt Lilian's reaction. She hadn’t seen her cry since the funeral. She blamed herself for not protecting her, and her anger extended to the girls' parents as well. But soon enough, the bullying stopped, and the girls who once tormented Denise avoided her like a plague. That, at least, brought her some relief.

？