The door creaked open with a weary groan as Kalisa stepped inside her house. She shut it quietly behind her, pressing her back against it like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The house was dim, the evening light casting pale shadows on the furniture. Everything looked the same, but Kalisa felt completely different.
Her heels clicked softly on the tiled floor as she made her way to her room, her shoulders slumped, her eyes empty. She didn't say a word to her mother. Lisa was somewhere in the house, probably in the kitchen like always, pretending everything was fine.
Kalisa didn't care. She dropped her bag by the door and sank onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. Her body ached from exhaustion, but the heaviness inside her chest was worse. It wasn't just tiredness. It was betrayal.
Her mind reeled, flickering through memories like a cracked film reel, each one sharp enough to draw blood.
First, it was her mother.
