Chapter 270

Her name was Mia, the oldest of three children, and she hated them all. She hated her little brother, Timmy, for being too young to understand the real world. She hated Sarah, her younger sister, because of how effortlessly everyone loved her. Mia was never good enough, never enough in the eyes of their parents. Sarah was smart, pretty, always happy. Timmy was a sweet, innocent kid. Everyone adored them.

But Mia? She was always just... there. Too angry. Too distant. Too everything they didn't want.

The house felt suffocating sometimes, with the creaks in the floorboards, the mold creeping in along the edges of the walls, and the hum of the kitchen appliances. At least, that's how it felt to Mia. She sat in her room staring at the walls, the clock ticking in the silence, and she seethed.

The family had always been distant. Her parents were too busy with their work, and when they were home, they never noticed the growing distance between Mia and her siblings. But Mia noticed. She noticed everything. The way her parents would smile at Sarah, the way Timmy would run to them when he was scared, and the way Sarah always had a kind word for everyone. And Mia? She had nothing. Not even a smile for herself.

The house was quiet that night. The kind of quiet that made the walls feel alive. Timmy was asleep in his room, Sarah in hers. Their parents were out for the evening, the air thick with some unknown tension, something Mia had never been able to define.

She stood in front of the kitchen sink, watching the dark reflection of herself in the window. Her hands shook. It had been building for weeks, months even. The thought had been there for as long as she could remember. She'd imagined it over and over—what it would be like, how it would feel to make them all stop. Just make them stop existing. Then she wouldn't be invisible anymore.

A flash of light from the fridge door caught her attention, the dull glow of a half-empty bottle of milk. Mia grabbed it, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig. It tasted stale, bitter. She didn't care. The feeling was still there, pressing into her chest.

Her fingers moved instinctively, almost mechanically, reaching into the drawer where the knives were kept. A slow, deliberate motion. They weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer. That was okay. She wasn't looking for perfection.

Mia's heart pounded, the adrenaline thick in her veins. She walked slowly to Timmy's room first, the knife cold in her hand. The house creaked under her weight, but Timmy was a heavy sleeper, his light snoring the only sound that broke the silence.

She stood over his bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His face was innocent, still. He was still a child, too young to understand the things that ran through her mind. He wouldn't understand. But Mia didn't care. She could feel the pulse in her neck, the urge crawling up her spine.

Her fingers gripped the knife, and she felt something shift inside of her. This wasn't right. But she couldn't stop.

The blade sunk in with ease, too easy, almost. There was no scream, no noise. Timmy didn't even move. He was dead before he even knew what had happened.

Mia stood frozen in place for a long moment, watching his blood pool on the sheets. It wasn't satisfying. It wasn't relief. It was emptiness, nothing. She wiped the knife on the bedsheet and turned to leave the room.

Next was Sarah's room. Her little sister's soft breathing echoed in the darkness, and Mia could feel her chest tighten. Sarah had always been the one with the bright smile, the one that their parents adored. The one who never knew how much Mia resented her.

The door creaked open slowly, the shadows swallowing her up as she stepped inside. Mia's hand clenched around the knife again, but this time her movements felt slow, measured. Sarah was asleep, curled in a blanket, unaware of the terror that hovered just above her.

Mia stood over her sister, her breath shallow, her eyes watching Sarah's innocent face. The anger boiled up again, hotter than before. Sarah didn't deserve to live. Not after everything she'd done to Mia.

The knife went in, sharp and clean. Sarah didn't wake, didn't fight. Mia had made sure of that. She pulled the blade free and watched as the blood stained Sarah's pillow. The room was still, as still as everything that had happened before. There was no joy in it, no release. Just an aching emptiness that pressed against her ribs.

Mia stumbled out of the room, her hands trembling. She knew what she had done. She had taken everything from them. And yet, it didn't feel like enough. It wouldn't be enough until their parents knew. Until they understood what she had done to make them finally see her.

Mia's heart thudded in her chest as she made her way down the stairs, the knife heavy in her hands. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of a streetlamp outside. The door to the basement was slightly ajar, and Mia could feel her breath catch in her throat.

Her parents. They were still out, but they'd be home soon. They'd have to face the truth. They had to.

The door creaked open, and Mia stood at the top of the stairs, looking down into the basement. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows over the old furnace, the clutter, the old boxes they never bothered to open. The house smelled like dust, old memories, and regret.

Her parents were downstairs, but they weren't in the basement. They weren't anywhere. The house was empty.

A terrible realization gripped Mia. She had killed them all. And yet, no one was left to see it. No one would understand. Her parents wouldn't come home to find her. Sarah wouldn't wake up to scream. Timmy wouldn't cry out.

Mia sank to her knees, the knife falling from her fingers. The realization hit her harder than anything else.

What had she done? What had she truly achieved? She looked at the dark space before her. The emptiness of the house consumed her. Everything she'd done had been for nothing.

It was then she heard it—the soft click of the doorbell. Her parents were home. They would be here soon, and they'd never know the truth. There would be no closure, no punishment. There would be no one to punish her.

Mia's eyes snapped toward the door. Her breath quickened. They had come back, just like she knew they would. But they wouldn't find her, not now. Not after everything.

She crawled toward the door, pushing it open just enough to peer through the crack. The street outside was quiet, still. No one was there.

It was just her, alone. Alone with the chaos she had created. Alone with the truth that she could never escape.

The doorbell rang again.

Mia felt the cold, unfeeling walls of the house close in around her, and for the first time in years, she realized something. There was no escape from what she'd done. She had killed them all. And in doing so, she had killed the last part of herself that had ever mattered.

She pulled the door open, and the emptiness beyond swallowed her whole.