Lily's voice snapped me out of it like cold water thrown in my face.
"Aunty Lys?" She shouted
I blinked hard. My heart was still racing from the daydream—
Elena?, the gun?
Victor's hands, his mouth,his cock, that damn cock that cursed me. The way he groaned my name.
But he wasn't here, "Did i just imagine Elena walking in on us"?
But Victor's lips, his groan, his fingers circling my wet clit?
That happened am sure.
I quickly looked at the hallway outside my cracked door was empty. He'd slipped away. Gone.
I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding me so fast it almost hurt.
Lily stood right in front of me, clutching her crayon drawing, big eyes looking up.
"Wh… Where's your mum?" I asked, my voice coming out rough and cracked.
" with Nanny Charlotte in the kitchen."she giggles
She held the paper higher, proud. "Look! See the pictures I made!"
I forced a smile, even though my legs felt like jelly, and Victor's cum was still sticky between my thighs. I bent down and took the drawing from her small hands.
It was us—stick figures holding hands. Mommy, Daddy, Lily, and me. Big red hearts all around us.
"Wow," I whispered, throat tight. "It's beautiful, sweetheart."
She beamed. "I drew you with curly hair like always!"
I nodded, eyes stinging. "I love it. Go on, baby. I'll come look at the others later, okay?"
She pouted a little—disappointed—but nodded. "Okay, Aunty Lys."
She skipped out, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click.
The second she was gone, the smile dropped off my face.
I hurried into the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. Hot water hit me like needles. I scrubbed hard—between my legs, on my stomach, on my breasts—like I could wash him off. Like I could wash the guilt off, and wash my trauma off!
But the flashback came anyway.
Uncle Lucas.
I was twelve. Family dinner at his house. Everyone is laughing in the dining room. He said, "Come help me get more wine, Alyssa." He pulled me into the dark pantry. His hand slid up my dress. His breath stank of whiskey and cigarettes. He pushed me against the shelves and hurt me so badly. I cried in pain.
I told Mum in whispers the next day.
She sighed. "Alyssa, stop being dramatic. You're always making things up for attention. Elena never does this."
So I shut up. Bury it. Told myself I was stupid. Dramatic. Wrong.
Why now? Why the hell was that memory clawing its way back today?
I should be thinking about Victor. About Lily's drawing.
Elena's footsteps are getting closer every day.
Not that old man.
I shut the water off. Stepped out. Wrapped a towel around myself.
That's when my foot caught the flower vase beside the bathroom door.
It tipped. Crashed. Shards everywhere.
"Ouch!" Sharp pain sliced across my knee. Blood welled up fast.
I dropped down, clutching it, cursing under my breath.
And there—tucked between the vase base and the wall—was a folded piece of paper.
My stomach dropped.
I reached for it, my fingers trembling. I opened it.
FUCKER! LIAR
Written in thick black marker. Below the note was a printed photo of a dick. Hard. Veiny. Unmistakable. Victor's. I knew every ridge, every vein.
My breath stopped.
How long has this been sitting here?
Who put it here?
I sat on the cold tile, knees pulled up, the note trembling in my hand. My heart was slamming so loud it echoed in my ears.
The mansion felt huge. Empty. Full of eyes.
Staff. Cleaners. Gardeners. Nanny Charlotte. The cook who brought tea every afternoon.
Any of them could have walked past my door. Any of them could have seen us. Heard us. Snapped pictures.
I pressed my forehead to my knees. Tears burned hot behind my eyes.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted Victor to come back and hold me and say it would be okay.
But he wasn't coming back.
He was gone.
And I was alone with this note and blood on my knee and his cum still drying on my skin.
I stood on shaky legs, Limped to the toilet and threw the paper in. I flushed it twice till it disappeared
But the words stayed. Screaming in my head.
FUCKER. LIAR.
I looked in the mirror—wet hair dripping, red eyes, and a bite mark on my neck turning purple. Blood trickled down my shin.
I looked like someone who'd been caught.
And someone in this house knew it.
Someone hated me enough to leave this.
Someone was watching.
I sat there on the cold tile, towel slipping off one shoulder, staring at the spot where the note had been. My knee still stung, blood smeared across my skin like a warning. The words kept looping in my head.
FUCKER. LIAR.
Somebody knew.
Somebody close.
Somebody who walked these halls every day, smiled at me over breakfast, asked how my day was.
I needed to leave.
Right now.
Pack a bag. Grab my phone. Walk out the front door and never look back
before I completely lose my mind.
I stood up too fast. I grabbed the sink to steady myself.
A knock came on the door—soft, polite.
"Lys? Dinner's ready,"
Elena's voice came through, warm as always
I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper.
"Okay," I called back. Voice shaky. Too high. "Coming in a minute."
Her footsteps faded down the hall.
I stared at my reflection again—wild eyes, wet hair clinging to my neck, bite marks blooming purple, Victor's cum still sticky between my thighs even after the shower.
And then the thought hit me like a slap.
What if it was her?
What if Elena left the note?
My breath caught.
No.
No way.
She's my sister.
She's the good one.
The saint.
The one who always forgave me, always protected me, always smiled even when I messed up.
She couldn't.
Could she?
I pressed my palms to my eyes until spots danced behind my lids.
Then I screamed—raw, broken, muffled into my hands.
"Arghhhhh!"
I collapsed onto the bed, still in the towel, pulling at my hair hard enough to hurt.
I was losing it.
Slowly.
Surely.
Piece by piece.
Victor's cock.
His hands.
His voice growling my name.
It was ruining me.
And I was letting it.
I curled into a ball, knees to chest, rocking a little.
How do I handle this?
Who do I tell?
Cynthia? She'd think I'm crazy.
Victor? He'd panic, try to fix it, make it worse.
Elena?
If it's her…
If she's the one watching, waiting, smiling while she sharpens the knife…
I whispered into the empty room, voice cracking.
"Victor's cock will ruin me."
And the scariest part?
I wasn't sure I wanted to be saved.