Pain was not always loud. Sometimes, it whispered—a dull ache beneath the skin, a shadow that never quite left. For Lia Miller, pain had been her closest companion, a silent witness to her suffering. And now, as she lay dying in her own pool of blood,she couldn't help but wonder if it could've turn out different.
Darkness curled around her, suffocating, infinite. She felt herself slipping, the cold creeping into her bones, her body growing weightless. And then—memories surged forth, disjointed and relentless, crashing over her like waves in a violent storm.
She was six years old, tears pouring down her eyes as she watched her mom weakly breathing on the bed.Machines beeped around her, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. The door burst open. A doctor rushed in, but the panic in his eyes told Lia something was wrong. Her mother gasped, clutching her chest. Blood stained her lips. Lia screamed, reaching for her, but her tiny hands grasped only air. The machines wailed. Her mother's body slumped forward. Cold. Still. Gone.
Darkness shifted. A new memory emerged.
She stood in the grand foyer of a mansion, clutching the small teddy bear she had carried from the hospital. A tall man loomed over her—her father, she had been told. His face was hard, his eyes indifferent. Without a word, he handed her over to a waiting maid. "Take her upstairs," he said, already turning away. Regina stood at the top of the stairs, watching with cold amusement, her two daughters, Laura and Estella, peeking from behind her. Their eyes held nothing but disdain.
Another shift.
The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the dining hall. Lia, now eight, stared at the broken plate, her small hands trembling. She bent to pick up the shards, and pain seared through her palm as blood welled from the cut. A slap landed across her face, sending her stumbling. "Stupid girl," Regina spat, towering over her. "You can't even do something as simple as setting a table without being a disgrace."
Her cheek burned. Her hand bled. No one cared.
A colder memory took hold.
Lia sat on the floor of Regina's room, her face red with bruise. The woman stood before her, elegant as ever, her gaze filled with contempt. "No one will ever love you, Lia," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "You are nothing. Insignificant. Just like your mother—the whore who seduced my husband." The words cut deeper than any slap. Lia wanted to scream that it wasn't true, but silence choked her.
Then, a flash of movement.
Estella, ten years old, laughing as she shoved Lia down the stairs. Lia tumbled, pain exploding in her ribs, her vision blurring. She landed hard, gasping for breath. "You shouldn't be playing with Logan, next time you'll know your place," Estella said with a smirk before skipping away.
Then her memory shifted to warmth
18 now, Logan, his hand in hers, whispering, "I love you, Lia. I'll always be here for you." His smile had been soft, his promise sweet, and for the first time in her life, she had believed in something good.
But the lie came next.
19, Lia stood frozen, watching as Logan kissed Laura, his hands tangled in her hair, the same hands that had once held Lia's. The betrayal burned, twisting in her stomach like a knife. Her heart shattered, yet she made no sound.
And then—the final horror.
Darkness. Cold. The suffocating basement walls pressing in on her. Three days. No food. No light. Only the sound of the lock clicking shut, Regina's voice echoing from the other side. "Sign the papers, and maybe I'll let you out." Her hands trembled as she scrawled her name, surrendering the last thing she had left—her shares in the company. Her freedom had been stripped away with a single signature.
The memories blurred, fading into the present. The pain in her body dulled, replaced by something else. Rage. But it soon quench as she reach the last of darkness
She knew it then. She wasn't going to get a chance to change anything because it's all over now.
The pain dulled, faded. A cold numbness wrapped around her, pulling her under. Voices blurred, then faded.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
Lia Miller died that night. With a heart earning for revenge.