Taking The Blame

Elara let out a bitter sigh, her heart heavy with resignation. What was the point of defending herself? No matter how much she denied it, they wouldn't believe her. They never did. Her father had already decided she was guilty, and arguing would only make things worse. Defiance was the one thing he despised the most.

She could already see where this was heading. If she denied it, he would accuse her of lying, punish her, and humiliate her even further. But if she admitted to it, she would only deepen their hatred.

Could they even hate her more than they already did?

If she accepted the blame, at least it would be over faster.

A hollow laugh bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it down. Instead, she exhaled slowly, pushing back the lump in her throat as she muttered, "Yes, I did. I did."

Her voice cracked at the confession, the weight of her own words pressing down on her chest like a crushing boulder.

"You ingrate!" her father roared, his voice filled with so much venom it felt like a physical strike. His fury was suffocating, and she flinched instinctively, her nails digging into her palm.

"I knew you did it! Tell me—what would you possibly gain from sabotaging and poisoning your younger sister?"

Elara's mother gasped, her expression twisting into one of horror and fury. "Elara, you dare do this? As if being a cursed child wasn't enough, now you choose to bring havoc into our family?"

Elara said nothing. She couldn't.

Every word from them was like a blade carving into her already wounded heart.

Sofia, who had been watching the scene unfold from her seat, suddenly shifted. Tears welled up in her bright eyes before spilling down her cheeks. She gasped, covering her trembling lips as she looked at Elara with feigned betrayal.

"Sister… what did I ever do to deserve this?"

Her voice wavered, a perfect melody of heartbreak and innocence.

"If I did something wrong, please forgive me!"

Then, to Elara's disbelief, Sofia slid from the couch onto the floor, kneeling at Elara's feet.

She wept openly, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her supposed grief.

Elara's eyes darkened.

It was all an act.

Sofia had been waiting for this moment, hadn't she? The hidden smugness from before was gone, replaced by a masterful performance of a pitiful, victimized younger sister.

She had played her part well.

Her parents, predictably, rushed toward her, their faces filled with panic and concern.

"Don't beg a wicked soul like her!" Their father hissed, grabbing Sofia's arms and lifting her to her feet. His hands trembled as he held his weeping daughter, his rage boiling over.

Elara's mother, eyes brimming with tears, turned to her with raw disgust.

"I still can't believe you're this heartless," she said, her voice trembling. "How could you do something so cruel to your own sister?"

Elara clenched her jaw, trying to brace herself against the storm of accusations, but nothing could have prepared her for what her father said next.

She had spent her entire life trying, begging, for their love, their acceptance. But she had always been nothing more than a stain on their lives, a cursed child they wished had never been born.

Her mother's lips trembled as she clutched Sofia to her chest.

"If you had even half the heart of Sofia, maybe….. maybe I could have accepted you a little. Even after the evil you did, she still begged you for forgiveness…. That's how kind she is."

Then, the final blow.

"We should have never birthed you."

Elara's vision blurred.

Each word was like a knife slicing into her soul, cutting deeper and deeper.

They regretted her existence.

Her father's face was twisted in fury, her mother's eyes filled with resentment, and her sister—her dear, innocent sister—stood with her head lowered, hiding the triumph in her gaze.

The image burned into Elara's mind.

She could still remember the time when she had been the one on the brink of death.

Unlike Sofia, she hadn't been faking it.

When her curse had manifested for the first time, her body had nearly shut down. Pain had wracked her bones, dark tendrils of energy had coiled around her limbs, and she had felt like she was suffocating under an invisible force.

She had been terrified.

Back then, she had wanted nothing more than a reassuring voice, a gentle touch—someone to tell her that everything would be alright.

But no one had come for her.

Her parents hadn't sat by her bedside, holding her hand and whispering words of comfort.

Instead, they had left to consult the elders, desperate to know if her curse could be erased.

When they learned that it couldn't, they had abandoned her completely.

They had hoped she would die.

That moment had been one of the most terrifying of her life, but what hurt the most was that she had gone through it alone.

Yet here Sofia was, receiving all the love and concern that had been denied to her. Here they were, holding Sofia as if she were the most precious thing in the world, treating her like the most fragile, irreplaceable treasure.

The contrast was unbearable.

Why?

Was it her fault that she was cursed?

Had she chosen this fate?

Why was she the one being hated for something she never even wanted?

Before she could even take a breath, the air was knocked out of her.

A sharp, blinding pain exploded across her face as her father's hand struck her cheek with brutal force.

A loud crack echoed through the hall.

A sudden, sharp crack broke her from her thoughts.

Pain exploded across her cheek.

She stumbled, her vision swimming as dizziness took over. White spots danced in her vision, and the stinging pain spread like fire through her skull.

Her head throbbed, and her ears rang from the sheer force of the blow.

For a moment, she thought she might collapse.

Her father stood before her, his hand still raised from the slap. His eyes burned with unfiltered hatred.

The pain of the slap was nothing compared to the pain in her chest.

How could someone hit their own child like this?

The impact had been merciless, full of venom.

It wasn't the strike of a disappointed father, it was the strike of someone who despised her very existence.

The sheer force of it told her everything she needed to know.

She was nothing to him.

"Since you don't know your place," he thundered, his voice thick with rage, "I will remind you."

With that, he turned and barked out an order.

"Guards! Servants! Get in here now!"