The Girl They Buried Alive

They say I stole twenty years of Delias life, so five years in a cage was simply the universe balancing the scales.

To ensure I played the part of the sacrificial lamb, my parents stood before the world and piled every sin, every shadow, and every lie onto my shoulders. My own brother, Larry, was the one who forced the caustic lye down my throat, searing my vocal cords so that I couldnt scream my innocence to the rafters.

And Parkerthe man who once promised to be my sanctuarywas the most brutal of all. He was the one who broke my spirit and my bones, ensuring I didn't even have the strength to run.

Now, five years later, the gates have opened. I am a hollowed-out shell, moved only by a numb, reflexive obedience. I never expected that the very people who destroyed me would end up on their knees, weeping, begging for a single glance.

...

"Inmate 15623, youre clear. Try to stay on the right side of the law this time."

The heavy iron door groaned open. The sunlight was a physical assault, a jagged blade of brightness that forced me to shield my eyes. For nearly two thousand days, the sun had been a myth, something that happened to other people.

"Isabel, stop the theatrics and get over here."

The voice hit me like a plunge into ice water. My skin crawled. As I lowered my hand, I saw the one person I hoped never to see again.

My brother, Larry. He was the man who once declared to the world that I was his precious little sister, the one who swore to shield me from every storm. Even when the truth came outthat Delia was the biological daughter and I was the "mistake"he had held my hands and promised nothing would change.

But the moment Delia caused the accident that left the Blackwell heir in a coma, Larry didnt hesitate. He pushed me into the path of the oncoming train of justice. He was the one who held me down, his eyes cold as stone, and forced that burning liquid into my throat.

I had been beaten, cursed, and interrogated by the Blackwell family, but all I could produce were pathetic, wet wheezes.

Larry marched toward me now. He caught sight of the jagged scar near my hairline and flinched for a micro-second before his face curdled into a mask of disgust.

"What, did you carve that yourself just to look pathetic? You really are desperate, aren't you, Isabel?"

Pathetic?

I wouldn't dare hope for pity from the man who stole my voice. Especially since these scars were the "lessons" he had specifically requested the other inmates give me.

I opened my mouth. My voice, once clear as a bell, came out like dry leaves skittering over a grave. "No need. I can walk."

Larrys face registered a flicker of shock. He remembered the girl who used to beg him to drive her two blocks because her heels were too high. Now, I wouldn't even look at his car.

He let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Isabel, drop the act. You lived Delias life for twenty years. This is the penance you owe. Get in."

He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. I looked at his hand, then at the desolate stretch of road outside the prison. This facility was chosen by the Blackwells specifically for its isolationa place where the shadows are long and the help is non-existent. If I didn't go with him, Id be walking for hours before I saw another living soul.

I reached for the car, but instead of the back seat, I pulled open the front passenger door.

The driver, Mr. Miller, jumped. "Miss Isabel... maybe you should sit in the back with Mr. Larry?"

I stared straight ahead, my voice a jagged rasp. "A person as low as me? I wouldn't want to ruin the upholstery for a Blackwood."

"Isabel!" Larrys voice turned lethal. "Get in the back. Stop being a martyr or you can rot on this curb."

I saw the winced expression on Mr. Millers face. I didn't want him to catch the fallout. I gritted my teeth until I tasted copper, then climbed into the back seat.

The car moved. Silence settled over us, thick and suffocating. Mr. Miller tried to break it, his voice forced. "Your parents... theyve missed you, Isabel. Once we get home, we can all be a family again."

Missed me?

I remembered the way they testified against me, their voices steady as they told the judge I was a jealous, unstable girl who had tried to kill the Blackwell heir. They didn't want a daughter. They wanted a ghost.

"Mr. Miller," I said softly, my eyes fixed on the passing gray trees. "Just drop me at the next bus station. Im not a Blackwood. And that house... it was never my home."

The words weren't even cold before Larry roared, "Stop the car!"

The tires screeched. My head slammed into the back of the driver's seat. Before I could find my bearings, the door was ripped open. A heavy boot caught me square in the ribs, the force of it launching me out of the car and onto the gravel.

"You want to play the stranger? Fine. Rot out here!" Larry stood over me, his shadow looming. "You think we need you? You owe Delia. You owe this family. If youre going to walk around with that dead-eyed stare, do us all a favor and just finish the job."

The door slammed. The engine roared. I was left alone in the dirt of the outskirts.

The pain radiated through my side, but the tears wouldn't come. I had cried them all away years ago. Now, there was only the dull ache of existence.

I dragged myself up, shaking. A car pulled up beside mea sleek, dark sedan. The window rolled down to reveal a face that still haunted my dreams.

Parker.

I didn't stop. I kept walking, my limp heavy and pronounced.

"Isabel. Stop." His voice was like velvet over gravel. "Get in the car."

I stopped and turned, a jagged smile cutting across my face. "Shouldn't you be with your fiance, Parker? Or did you come back to check your work?" I pointed to my scarred wrists and the way my leg dragged. "Afraid I might be healing too well? Do you want to break them again?"

We had grown up together. He was the one who had seen the real me, or so I thought. I believed our love was the only thing that was real. Then Delia came back. And when I refused to confess to her crime, Parker was the one who systematically crushed my fingers, one by one, so I couldn't even write a plea for help.

"This is for Delia, Izzy. Don't make it harder by running."

I had begged him. I had crawled on the floor, kissing his shoes, praying for a shred of the man I thought I knew. He had simply handed me over to the Blackwells like a piece of spoiled meat.

Parkers face darkened with a familiar arrogance. "Five years and youre still unrepentant. If you hadn't tormented Delia, she never would have been in that position. She never would have been forced to defend herself against the Blackwell boy. People like you deserve to rot."

He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "If it weren't for your grandmother being on her deathbed and begging to see you, I wouldn't be within ten miles of a woman as venomous as you."

The world tilted. "What? Nana is sick?"

Parker sneered. "Shes dying, Isabel. The stress of what you did five years ago shattered her. Shes been in and out of the hospital ever since, and now shes insisting on seeing you one last time. God knows why."

I didn't care about his insults anymore. I lunged for the car door, my heart hammering against my bruised ribs. "Take me to her. Now."

He looked at me with pure loathing but started the engine. The drive was a blur of silence and suppressed rage. He didn't speak, and I didn't breathe.

When we reached the hospital, I didn't wait for him. I scrambled out, tripping over my own feet, and ran toward the ward. But as I reached the door to her room, my hand froze on the handle.

Five years. Everyone believed I was a monster. Would she even look at me?

"Isabel? Is that my girl?"

The voice was thin, like parchment, but it was hers. My vision blurred. I pushed the door open and collapsed at her bedside, burying my face in her blankets.

"Nana... I'm here."

Her frail, trembling hand found my face. Her touch was the only kindness I had felt in half a decade. "I knew youd come. I knew. Theyve put you through so much, my poor girl."

I shook my head, unable to speak through the lump in my throat.

"Isabel," she whispered, her eyes searching mine. "Tell me the truth. Did you really do it? Did you hurt that boy?"

She was the only one. The only one who wanted to give me a chance. I knew if I said 'no,' she would spend her last breath fighting for my justice.

"Mom, who else could it have been?"

The door swung open. My adoptive parents, Larry, and Delia walked in. The room suddenly felt very small and very cold.

"They were the only two in the room," my mother said, her voice dripping with artificial sorrow. "If it wasn't Isabel, are you suggesting it was our Delia? Isabel spent twenty years in our home; she couldn't handle losing her status. She was desperate to latch onto the Blackwells."

Nanas eyes flashed with a spark of her old fire. "Quiet! Even if she isn't your blood, she is my granddaughter. I provided for her when I was well, and I will not let her suffer now that I am dying!"

My mother threw her designer bag onto the chair. "Mom, listen to yourself! Delia is your flesh and blood. Youre going to leave our legacy to a criminal stranger?"

Larry stepped forward, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. "Isabel, what kind of spell have you cast on her? You should have stayed in that cell. Why did you have to come back?"

The words were like daggers. Delia stood in the corner, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips before she hid it behind a handkerchief. "Mom, don't be hard on her. She just got out of prison. She's... fragile."

Nana let out a rasping cough that shook her whole frame. "Enough! Did Isabel choose to be switched at birth? The family that raised Delia died saving her life in that car accident. Isabel is alone in this world. If you won't love her, I will."

She looked at my parents, her gaze icy. "My anniversary gala is in two weeks. I will be attending with Isabel by my side. I want everyone in this city to know that my girl still has someone in her corner."

My parents tried to protest, but Nana roared at them until they retreated.

Once they were gone, she stroked my hair. "Don't be afraid, Isabel. I have you."

To protect me, Nana checked herself out of the hospital and took me straight to her estate. During those days, the messages didn't stop. My "parents," Larry, and Parker all sent warnings.

Isabel, Nana is old. You wouldn't want to give her a stroke by telling her lies, would you? Keep your mouth shut.

The harassment triggered the memories I had tried to bury. The beatings in the showers. Being forced to eat food that had been stepped on. The nights I spent fighting off hands in the dark. I had spent five years asking what I did wrong.

But now, looking at Nana, I realized I wouldn't tell her the truth. Not because I was scared, but because it would kill her. My parents and Larry would never admit the truth, and the Blackwell heir was still a vegetable. No one would believe me anyway. I decided to let the secret be the price of the twenty years I spent as a "Blackwood."

...

The night of the gala arrived. I looked in the mirror. The emerald silk gown was stunning, a masterpiece of draping, but it couldn't hide the map of trauma on my skin. My shoulders and arms were a tapestry of cigarette burns and jagged scars.

I put on a matching bolero jacket to hide the evidence and went downstairs.

The party was in full swing. I stayed in the shadows, letting Nana handle the guests. I just wanted to find a quiet corner, but as I turned a hallway, a server "accidentally" collided with me, drenching my dress in wine.

I brushed off the apologies and headed upstairs to change. But the moment I stepped into the gallery, Delia was waiting.

"Isabel. I have a homecoming gift for you."

I took a step back. Then, a voice from my nightmares spoke from behind me.

"Hey there, baby sister. It's been a long time. Let's catch up."

My body went rigid. Duke. The man my family had paid to "watch over me" in prisonthe man who had made my life a living hellwas standing in Nanas house.

I tried to run, but a hand clamped over my mouth. The smell of cheap tobacco and malice filled my senses. Delia smiled, her eyes bright with cruelty.

"You got lucky in prison, Isabel. You survived. But you won't survive tonight."

I fought like a wild animal, but he slammed me into a side room. As I hit the floor, I heard Larrys voice in the hallway.

"Delia? Is Isabel in there? I thought I saw her."

Hope flared in my chest. But then Duke grabbed me. "What's the matter, Princess? Think your brother is going to save you? Ive been waiting five years to finish what I started."

I grabbed a heavy crystal lamp from a side table and smashed it against the door. The crash echoed through the hall.

"What was that?" Larrys voice. "Whos in there?"

I held my breath, praying they would burst in.

...

But Delias voice drifted through the wood, sweet as honey. "Its just Isabel. I tried to talk to her, but shes so bitter. She told me I was just 'lucky' to be found. She said she deserves to be the Blackwood heiress, not me. Shes locked herself in to throw a tantrum."

I wept, my heart shattering. They had grown up with me. They knew I would never say those things.

But the voice that responded was cold enough to freeze my blood.

"Shes the one who shouldn't have come back," Larry said. "Does she think we don't know what she did in prison? She's trash."

"She lived your life, Delia," Parker added. "Shes a parasite. Her real parents probably died of shame knowing what kind of daughter they raised. She doesn't belong here."

A parasite. The man I loved was calling me a parasite while I was being hunted by a predator three feet away.

"Hear that?" Duke whispered, pinning me down. "They want you gone. Just be a good girl and maybe Ill make it quick."

The memories flooded back. The hands. The laughter. The feeling of being less than human. As Duke lunged to tear the silk from my body, my hand closed around a jagged shard of the shattered crystal lamp.

I didn't think. I just drove the glass into his neck.