One day, as I was coming down the stairs, I saw Aurora standing at the landing.
When she saw me, a strange glint appeared in her eye.
The moment I was beside her, she let out a sharp scream and threw herself down the staircase.
‘Ah-!”
The tremendous crash brought everyone running.
My parents and Julian burst out of their rooms to see Aurora lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, he forehead gashed and bleeding.
And me, standing perfectly unharmed in the middle of the staircase.
Aurora lifted a weak hand and pointed at me, tears and blood mingling on her face. “It was… it was my sist er… She pushed me…”
Instantly, all eyes shot toward me like daggers.
Their
gazes were filled with shock, suspicion, and suppressed rage.
I was the enemy.
If I tried to defend myself, no one would believe me. One person was perfectly fine, the other was bleeding on the floor. It was obvious who to believe.
Lying on the ground, Aurora’s lips curved into a faint, triumphant smirk.
She thought she had won.
I looked at her, and at the family huddled around her.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t scream.
I just widened my eyes, those eyes that the doctor had diagnosed as “fragile,” and filled them with absolute
terror and disbelief.
My body began to tremble uncontrollably.
“It… it wasn’t me…”
I whispered those three words. Then, my eyes rolled back into my head, and I fell backward like a plank of
wood.
My head hit the hard marble steps with a sickening thud.
The sound was far more horrifying than Aurora’s tumble.
Before I lost consciousness, I saw the triumphant smile on Aurora’s face freeze and shatter.
She probably hadn’t calculated that if she was going to play the victim, I was willing to play the martyr.
You act hurt? I’ll act dead.
Let’s see who plays the game better.
