That night, our parents stayed at the house. Liam slept fitfully on a cot next to Elara's bed.

I tried to float away, to my body, to anywhere, but an invisible tether yanked me back whenever I went more than ten meters from them. Was I bound to Liam? Or to her?

Liam, unable to sleep, stared at his phone. The screen glowed in the dark room. He opened our chat history.

«Isla, your sister's condition is deteriorating. I'm sending you to Switzerland. Pack your things. My assistant, Mark, will pick you up in the morning.»

«Please be mature about this.»

Be mature. The phrase that had defined my entire life.

Five minutes passed with no reply from a girl who would never reply again. He sighed in frustration, the worry lines on his forehead deepening. He called Mark.

"Mark, I need you to go to the house and---"

Before he could finish, Elara bolted upright in bed, her eyes wide with terror. "Isla!"

Liam jerked, instinctively hanging up. "Shhh, it's alright. Isla's gone."

Mark, on the other end, shrugged, assuming it was a misdial.

Elara gripped Liam's arm, her bandaged hand trembling. "Don't let her come back. Never."

"I won't. She will never set foot in this city again," he vowed.

I bowed my head. He always believed her. Unconditionally.

When I was seven, she said the pointed corner of the paper crown from my birthday party scratched her. I was never allowed a birthday party again.

When I was fifteen, I came home from my first and only salon visit with a simple manicure. She said I tried to claw her with my polished nails. Liam held my hands still while Elara herself, a cruel smile on her face, scraped every last bit of polish off with a metal file, leaving my nail beds raw and bleeding.

The memories were a relentless, painful tide.

The next morning, Liam returned from getting Elara's medication. His phone rang. Mark.

"Did you get her? Just take her straight to the airport, I---"

"Mr. Vance!" Mark's voice was trembling, laced with pure panic. Liam's grip on the phone tightened. "Sir... you need to come home. Now."

"What is it?" Liam's voice was sharp.

Mark's next words came out in a choked sob. "It's... it's Isla, sir. She's... she's dead. In the house."

Liam's face went blank. The world seemed to stop spinning. "What... did you say?"