Chapter 4

My parents fought back quickly.

They spin-doctored Natasha’s short video, presenting it as "evidence of post-traumatic dissociation."

Mom sat in front of the camera, crying so hard she almost fainted.

"We had two daughters. One is gone, and the other has lost her mind."

"Please, stop triggering Natasha."

"Emma had been obsessed with mimicking her sister since she was a child, fantasizing that she was the real Natasha."

"As parents, we did everything we could."

Dad also appeared on screen, his eyes red.

"Emma was our child. We don't blame her."

"She is gone now. Please, let her rest in peace."

Watching the screen, I felt so disgusted I wanted to throw up.

They refused to even give me a funeral, yet they preached about letting me rest in peace on camera.

The internet quickly turned.

"The parents are so tragic."

"Natasha is clearly not mentally stable right now."

"Emma is still torturing her family even after she's dead. How horrifying."

Natasha was locked in her bedroom.

Her phone, laptop, door lock, and window latches were all confiscated.

She was trapped in a room, just like I used to be.

Except her room had a bed, warm meals, and bright lights.

My old room—the basement studio—had nothing but mirrors and a barre.

That night, Natasha went down to the basement for the first time.

Her hands shook violently as she picked the lock with a hairpin.

I followed her down.

When the light clicked on, she froze.

There were still dried blood stains on the wooden floor from my intense training sessions.

My worn-out knee pads were piled in the corner.

Next to the mirror, a yellowed training schedule was taped to the wall.

6:00 AM: Cardio.

8:00 AM: Flexibility.

10:00 AM: Routine drills.

2:00 PM: Full run-through.

9:00 PM: Weight check.

The last column read: "Three days before the competition: Limit food intake to match Natasha's weight."

Natasha reached out to touch the paper, her fingers trembling.

She suddenly crouched down and pried a tiny SD card out of a crack in the floorboards.

I stared in shock. I had hidden that.

A long time ago, I knew they would eventually discard me.

I didn't have the courage to run, and I had nowhere to go.

So, I secretly recorded every forced training session, every injury, and every time Mom screamed that I was "worthless," saving them on that card.

I had planned to mail it to Christine after the competition.

But I never made it.

Natasha clutched the SD card in her palm and whispered, "Emma, I found it."

Just as she stood up, the basement light at the top of the stairs suddenly brightened.

Mom stood there, her face deathly pale. "What is in your hand?"

Natasha hid her hand behind her back.

Mom shrieked, "Give it to me!"

Natasha turned to run.

But Dad rushed down the stairs, catching her in a tight grip.

The SD card slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Mom instantly stepped on it with a loud crunch.

The tiny card was crushed to pieces under her heel.

Natasha stared blankly at the shattered plastic. The last bit of light in her eyes died.

Mom wasn't done. She slapped Natasha hard across the face.

"You've been completely corrupted by that parasite."

Natasha slowly raised her head. "She wasn't a parasite."

Mom screamed:

"Yes, she was!"

"Since the day she was born, she dragged you down."

"If it weren't for her, our family would have had only one perfect, prodigy daughter!"

Natasha suddenly asked, "So the car accident when we were seven... did you plan that too?"

Mom’s voice cut off instantly. Dad's face twisted in shock.

I froze as well. The car accident?

Natasha stared dead into Mom’s eyes.

"I saw Emma's old X-ray records today."

"A shattered right ankle."

"She couldn't put full pressure on her right foot after that, yet you told her she was naturally unfit for public competitions."

"I always thought it was just an accident."

Mom’s lips turned white. Dad interrupted harshly:

"Natasha! Have you lost your mind?"

Natasha laughed. "I guess it wasn't an accident after all."

Standing in the cold basement, I felt my entire world turn to ice.

So my life in the shadows wasn't just bad luck. It was meticulously orchestrated by them from the very beginning.