Chapter 3

James grabbed my arm, yanking me up from the floor.

My knee hit the edge of the stairs, a sharp pain shooting through me.

"It's Chloe's birthday, and you have to ruin it!"

I tried to steady myself, but he pushed me again. My back slammed hard against the wall.

"Can't you let her be happy for once?"

Adrian frowned. "James, stop."

"Take Chloe to the car," James said.

As I curled up on the floor, I couldn't tell if my back hurt more, or my heart.

"Don't be mad at sis." Chloe wiped the corner of her eye. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have signed with the gallery. If you really want this opportunity, I can give it to you."

I caught a glimpse of triumph flashing across her lips.

"What nonsense are you talking?" James snapped. "Signing was Mom and Dad's decision. How is it your fault? It's her own fault for not being good enough, not yours."

He glared at me, his face full of hatred.

"The day Mom was about to have Chloe," his voice turned icy, "you spilled water all over the floor! Made Mom slip and go into early labor!"

I froze.

"I saw Mom fall, blood everywhere. It gave me nightmares for ages!"

I remember that day, Mom looked awful lying there on the couch.

I tried to bring her water, but my hands were trembling and I ended up spilling it.

So, from that day on, I became the one to blame.

"You love to ruin things, right?" James dragged me towards the basement. "Fine. Then go to the basement and think about what you've done."

Panic surged. I struggled desperately.

"No! Let me out!"

But James had already shoved me into the basement and slammed the door shut.

Click. He locked it.

"Stay here and behave." James's voice was cold. "You can come out once you've properly reflected on your actions."

"I can't breathe! I'll die without my medicine!" I screamed.

But James's voice was already fading away. "We need to go. The restaurant reservation is coming up."

"But Leah…" Adrian's voice held a hint of hesitation.

"She'll be fine. A few hours locked up will teach her a lesson," James replied.

In an instant, terror washed over me.

I pounded on the door with all my strength. "I won't ruin anything! I'll apologize! I'll do anything! Let me out!"

My voice was already hoarse. No one answered.

They were all gone.

I collapsed on the floor. The itching spread from my arms to my face. My throat began to tighten.

They were eager to celebrate Chloe's birthday, but forgot that I'd drunk an entire cup of chamomile tea.

The smell of turpentine made my head spin. The place was crammed with old art supplies, the air thick with the smell of chemicals.

I frantically felt around for a light switch. Nothing. There had never been a light down here.

My phone.

I groped in the dark and finally found it in a corner. The screen's glow illuminated my hand—covered in red rashes, swollen and misshapen.

Battery: 10%.

My hands shaking, I dialed Dad's number. No answer.

Mom. Still no answer.

Even Adrian. No answer.

I had no one left.

The rash spread across my body. My face swelled up, my eyes almost shut. Breathing became harder and harder.

If I couldn't get out, I would die here.

The screen lit up suddenly. A text from James:

"Think hard in there. Stop ruining Chloe's birthday."

Tears slid from my swollen eyes.

My throat constricted tighter. Every breath felt like drowning.

I tried to dial emergency services, but my fingers were too swollen to press the right numbers.

The screen dimmed. Battery: 5%.

I slumped against the door, using the last of my strength to tap on the wood, praying someone would find me.

But I felt my heartbeat slowing, and then darkness swallowed me.