The rain fell heavily that night, each drop like a tear from the sky, sharing the pain Christine Clark felt deep in her heart. Her footsteps echoed on the soaked asphalt, lost in the symphony of the storm as she walked toward the familiar discomfort of her home.
The ruthless wind howled its lamentations, carrying away the anguish that consumed her soul.
Distant flashes of lightning painted the horizon with fleeting brightness, but they weren't enough to dispel the shadows gathering in her mind. As she walked, memories of her past emerged like ghosts, blending with the darkness of the night.
She remembered her childhood—a tale of despair, where her father loomed as a malignant shadow over their home. Drowning in his own demons, he turned what should have been a refuge into a battlefield. Memories of her siblings' sobs and the times she witnessed her father assaulting her mother echoed like mute laments, distant echoes of a lost time.
Finally, she spotted her house, hoping to find even a sliver of peace there. But peace was an illusion for Christine, something she'd never truly known. Her childhood had been marked by invisible scars, deep wounds that never healed. Her current life was a living hell.
Christine closed the door behind her, feeling the heavy air of the place. The silence was strange, almost suffocating. Suddenly, firm footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. She didn't even need to turn to know who it was.
"Christine!" Rosalie's sharp voice sliced through the air, dripping with fury.
Christine turned slowly, her stomach churning with anxiety. Rosalie marched to the kitchen table and slammed her hand against the wood.
"Gail is my fourth son. The women in our family have always given their husbands sons. How dare you break that tradition?"
The words mixed with painful memories. Christine's face paled. She'd heard this before… from Gail himself.
"You're worthless to me!"
The memory hit her like a punch.
That day, the night had been hot. Christine still felt the sting of the first slap when Gail shoved her against the wall. His gaze burned with contempt.
"You're trash, Christine!" He spat the words as he gripped her arm. "What use is a woman who can't even give me a son?"
The second blow knocked her to the floor. Her head hit the ground, her vision blurring. Gail was drunk. He always was.
"Are you listening, Christine?!" Rosalie screamed, snapping her back to the present.
Christine blinked, trying to steady her trembling hands.
"I… I'm sorry, Rosalie…" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Sorry?!" Rosalie mocked, leaning over the table. "You're worthless! If you can't bear children, what's your purpose?"
The words cut into Christine like blades. She wanted to scream. To say she'd tried. That she'd suffered enough. But she stayed silent. As always.
"Bye, baby." Rosalie kissed Gail's forehead before leaving, as if nothing had happened.
The doorbell rang.
Ding-Dong!
Christine opened the door, and Victoria smiled.
"Hi, sis! I came for dinner. You know how it is—I hate cooking. That was always your job when Mom wasn't around."
As she passed Christine, Victoria glanced at Gail.
"Hi, Gail… How've you been?"
Gail looked at her, a strange glint in his eyes.
During dinner, Christine stayed quiet while Victoria and Gail laughed together. As usual, Victoria tossed subtle jabs, poking at her sister's insecurities.
Suddenly, Christine dropped her glass.
"Tsk! Can't do anything right," Gail grumbled, wiping juice off his shirt.
Victoria laughed.
"Remember when Dad hit you for being so clumsy? You couldn't sit for a week!"
Christine shivered. How could she forget?
After dinner, Victoria announced she'd stay the night. Christine, naive, smiled.
"At least I can count on you, Victoria."
The house was silent when Christine collapsed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under her exhausted body. Her chest rose and fell slowly, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.
She heard muffled laughter from the living room.
Victoria and Gail were still awake.
Christine squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the growing unease.
But exhaustion overpowered anguish.
Then… sleep swallowed her.
The first sunlight seeped through the window. Christine opened her eyes slowly, her body heavy.
She grabbed her bag and left for work.
As she walked, Rosalie's voice still echoed.
"You're worthless."
The sound of a slap resonated in her mind.
She clenched her fists.
The bus stopped, and Christine boarded without a word.
She needed to be strong.
But how long could she last?
Victoria woke to the sound of the door closing.
Christine had left.
She smiled.
Turning, she found Gail leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her.
"You always make yourself this at home, Victoria?"
She raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Christine never minded."
Gail stepped forward.
"You like to provoke, don't you?"
Victoria shrugged, lips curling.
"Depends. Do you like being provoked?"
She closed in, predatory.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked.
"Shouldn't you be faithful to my sister?"
Silence fell.
Then Victoria laughed softly.
Gail didn't hesitate.
He grabbed her waist and pinned her against the wall.
Victoria felt a wave of heat.
Christine always had everything.
Now, Victoria would take it all.
And she wouldn't stop until nothing remained.
"At least I can count on you, Victoria." A smile escaped her lips.
After the door slammed, Victoria opened her eyes, rising with a peculiar look on her face as she stared at the door.
"Finally gone."
At the office, Christine sat at her desk, eyes glued to her computer screen. She'd spent weeks on the report, every detail meticulously reviewed. When she finished, she took a deep breath and walked to her supervisor's office, report in hand.
"Mr. Thompson, here's the report you requested," she said, forcing her voice steady.
He took the document and flipped through it. His critical eyes scanned every page. Christine's stomach twisted.
"Christine, this isn't good enough," he finally said, slamming the report shut. "You'll have to redo it. I can't accept subpar work."
Christine bit her lip, holding back tears. She knew her work was solid but chose not to argue.
"Of course, Mr. Thompson. I'll redo it," she replied, struggling to maintain composure.
Meanwhile, at home, Victoria stood in the living room, gaze fixed on Gail, who sat on the couch gaming. She wore a silk nightgown, the strap slipping provocatively off one shoulder. With a subtle move, she let the other strap fall, the gown threatening to drop entirely.
Victoria had always envied Christine. Since childhood, she'd wanted everything her sister had. She wouldn't rest until she'd taken it all. Her icy emotions hid behind a seductive facade and calculated actions.
"Gail, don't you think it's time for a break?" she purred.
Gail glanced over, eyes locking onto Victoria. A slow smile spread across his face.
"Maybe," he replied, turning off the console and standing. "What'd you have in mind?"
Victoria smiled, sauntering toward him. Each step designed to captivate. Gail reached out, pulling her close, eyes blazing with desire.
"Thought I could… distract you," she whispered, letting the gown fall.
Gail grinned, wrapped his arms around her, lust burning in his eyes as he hungrily took her ample breasts into his mouth. Victoria moaned, a wave of arousal surging through her.
She was winning. Taking what belonged to Christine.
At the office, Christine's day took an unexpected turn. A fire alarm blared, emergency lights flashing. An overhead announcement ordered everyone to evacuate due to an accident.
Christine grabbed her things and joined the crowd rushing down the stairs. Outside, firefighters had arrived, but no one knew what happened. Seizing the chance to leave early, she took a taxi home.
Sitting in the backseat, rain tapping the window, Christine drowned in her thoughts—frustration and sorrow crushing her. The rejected report, endless pain, Gail and Rosalie's humiliations—it all overwhelmed her.
When the taxi stopped at her house, Christine stepped out and trudged to the door. As she entered, something caught her eye. A familiar pair of shoes lay in the hallway. Victoria's.
"Strange, she's still here," Christine thought. She walked inside, footsteps echoing, when she heard it. Muffled laughter. Whispers.
Christine followed the sounds, each step heavy. She pushed open the bedroom door, and the scene shattered every illusion she'd clung to. Her husband, Gail, was in bed with her own sister. They seemed to await her, ready to destroy what remained of her soul. Her heart raced.
Gail looked up, expression cold and mocking. Victoria rose slowly, dressing, her eyes gleaming with malice.
Christine felt the floor vanish beneath her. Every insult, every daily humiliation from Rosalie echoed in her mind. She remembered nights crying alone, Gail's abuse making her feel small and worthless.
Gail stood, disdain dripping from his voice. "What did you expect, Christine? Loyalty to a pathetic woman like you? You can't even give me children. You're sick, getting skinnier and uglier by the day."
The pain in Christine's chest was unbearable—rage, sorrow, and hopelessness merging. She stepped back, eyes locking onto Gail's with an intensity he'd never seen. "Gail… Victoria… how could you?" she whispered, voice breaking.
Victoria stared back, remorseless.
"Sorry, sis. But you always had everything. It was time someone more deserving got a chance."
Shocked and shattered, Christine couldn't respond. Without thinking, she turned and ran outside. Tears blurred her vision as she fled down the stairs and into the street. She ran blindly, desperate to escape the agony.
For the first time in years, Christine felt she might find strength to rise from her ashes. As she crossed the street, rain mixing with her tears, washing away the pain and filth of a past that haunted her.
The screech of tires interrupted her thoughts. "SCREECH…" Brakes screamed wildly. "THUD!" A dull crash echoed as her body hit the hood, followed by a muffled "THUMP" as she hit the ground.
Then… silence.
Emptiness.
Death.
The wind roared.
She was no longer in the city.
She stood in an impossible place.
The sky swirled with shadows, silver lightning tearing through space.
And in the chaos…
A massive portal loomed.
It spun like a demon's eye, pulsing with black and blue energy, trembling as if about to burst open.
Someone ran toward Christine.
A woman.
Long black hair flying—CHRISTINE!
Her voice thundered through the air.
"HELP ME!"
Christine choked.
"What?! I… I can't help!" Her voice trembled.
"USE YOUR POWERS!"
The woman raised her hands, chains of energy bursting from her fingers.
But the portal was opening too fast.
Creatures emerged.
Monstrous screeches filled the air.
Christine felt the air grow heavier.
Something stirred inside her.
Heat tingled in her fingertips.
Electricity crackled around her.
But she didn't know how to wield it.
She didn't know who she was.
"I can't…" she whimpered. "I'm dead!"
The witch turned sharply, eyes blazing.
"NO, CHILD—" she shouted. "YOUR TIME HASN'T COME!"
Christine felt herself pulled backward.
The energy chain wrapped around her body.
The portal shuddered violently.
Wind exploded into a deafening roar.
The witch declared:
"LIVE!"
Christine's eyes widened.
A flash.
White light illuminated everything.
The storm vanished.
The roar ceased.
And then…