She questioned everything as she ran through metal shelves and walls of containers.
What have I done wrong?
She did everything they told her. She worked hard; she worked tirelessly for the company without taking any credit out of guilt. She stayed in the background, keeping low, trying her best to be present without standing out. Just like what they always told her. She always smile as if there was nothing wrong. The house was everything.
The family was everything.
She thought it was the only family she had. The only thing she had left.
Wasn't that...wasn't that what they told her?
The sound of metal against metal filled the big room. Heavy footsteps and the clacking of a pair of stilettos haunted her own trail. Her bare feet were cold and hurting from running through all the debris of the unused warehouse--but even then, the muffled sound felt so loud in her ears.
Not as hard as her heartbeat, however.
"Stop running," a heavy voice came from behind the shelf. Calm, a little bit mocking. It sounded like the voice of a predator than a man in her ears. Louder than her steps or heartbeats. "Let's not waste our time, yeah?"
She's not going to make it--she knew that already, but for some reason, her legs were telling her to run. Why? Why did she have to run? Wouldn't it be good if everything was over anyway?
Because it's not fair!
Someone was shouting inside her head. A younger, more energetic girl. The past self she had been disappointed greatly. She had heard these voices a lot during the past few years after her mother's death--until she gave up on her and disappeared completely. Until this point, when it was already too late.
She should have listened to her. She should have listened to her when people hurled curses and hurtful words that drove her self-esteem to the ground. She should have listened to her when her younger siblings used her as a literal punching bag. She should have listened to her when her older sister saw humiliating her as a fun hobby.
And she should have listened when her oldest brother gave her all of those sweet talks to make her stand by his side and do all of his bidding without any question.
Too late. It was too late when she heard the loud bang almost at the same time as the searing pain in her leg.
Oh, if only she could return to that time.
She screamed. There was no sound coming out of her strained throat, but she screamed as she fell forward. She didn't know which one hurt the most; whether it was the searing pain on my shot leg, the sharp broken glass scrapping her hands and cheeks as she fell to the ground, or the dull throbbing of her shoulder.
Still...nothing hurt more than how unfair everything felt.
She dragged her trembling body forward, as if telling her poor old self that she wasn't a total lost cause even as she heard them coming closer behind her.
"I told you to not waste our time, Miss."
The footsteps came to a halt right before her pathetic, crawling self. When she was forcefully flipped to her back with a kick to her ribs, a proper scream finally left her throat.
She bit her lips, just from a habit of keeping quiet no matter what. Even while getting hit and burned with cigarettes in the past, she kept quiet. Being loud only aggravated them, after all--as I found out the hard way.
Hot tears stung her squinting eyes; and through a blurry sight, she could see the high heels coming closer. They carefully stepped on the dirty floor, avoiding the blood flowing from her leg. The cold, disgusted face matched well with the pristine clothes.
"Wh...why?" her trembling lips managed to open.
"Don't play dumb, bitch. I told you to stay on your lane, groveling as you should," the answer was cold.
But she did. She did everything people told her to do.
"I told you to stop seducing my husband."
"What...?" she looked up, more bewildered than ever.
When did she ever? Why...why would she seduce her own brother? It didn't make any sense! She thought this woman took these people to come after her because her family asked her to, but this...?
"I didn't...I never..." she shook her head desperately. It didn't make any sense! It didn't make any sense!
"I told you to stop playing dumb!"
A cracking sound filled her ears, and the blood filled her mouth as the stinging sensation spread across her face. Of course, it wasn't the woman's palm striking her, but one of her goons. The same man grabbed her hair and held her head in place so her eyes could see the screen of a phone playing a recording.
At first, she didn't know what it was. The recording seemed to be taken from a hidden place, and there was a shadow of a leaf covering a bit of the camera. But it was clear enough to show a bed--a familiar-looking one. Was it hers? But where was she?
The woman on that recording, came not with her own feet, but in the arms of a familiar-looking man that made her blood curl and freeze. The recording had no sound, but she was more thankful for that because of what happened next. Her eyes shook as she saw herself lying on the bed and her brother--her own older brother, who she thought was the only person on her side--climbed on top of her.
The recording kept playing, but her brain was shutting down. Was it because of what she saw, or was it because of the wound? It didn't matter.
Nothing else mattered.
What little spark of fight she had inside was snuffed out in the unfair cold and loneliness. Even as the muzzle of the gun that had shot her leg earlier raised once again and pointed at her chest, she was too numb to react.
"You have no excuses now."
She had a lot, including the fact that she remembered nothing of that situation, but what was the use of it now? She worked for these people for so long that she knew the fact wasn't important to her. Why else would they come after her despite how clear it was that she was unconscious in that recording? Shouldn't she come after her husband instead?
Ah....it didn't matter.
Perhaps this was how it was supposed to be. Perhaps this was long overdue. She should have died six years ago with her mother. Yeah, she had enjoyed the time she did not deserve for much too long.
So pitiful---another voice rang through her mind as she waited for the inevitable while looking at the suited bodyguards in front of her. You should come to me if you want to run away, Princess.
What? She thought dazedly. Who was saying that? A closed off, forgotten memory suddenly appeared at the very last moment. But she had no leeway of perusing that as the man behind the gun squeezed the trigger.
She closed her eyes tight, thinking and wishing to see her mother when she opened them next time. Perhaps her unborn sister, too.
Something shattered on her chest, and then she felt the sharp pain; cold at first, before it turned searing until her body felt cold again. In the moment which strangely felt too short, everything was silent.
When she opened her eyes again, as if she was only blinking, her mother and sister were in front of her.
Their urns of ashes, that is.