Page 77 of Rest In Peace

"Father liked his little secret," she confessed, the word “father” tainted with scorn. "He said I was frail and needed protection. I was sick. But he lied. To everyone."

"Protection?" Adam echoed with disbelief painting his features in broad strokes.

"Control, more like it." Victoria's lips curled into a bitter smile, the gun still pointed with an eerie steadiness. "He made sure I never took a step outside that room. Not until I realized the chains were all just smoke and mirrors."

"Chains?" Sarah repeated. She looked like her world was tilting on its axis as the puzzle pieces of their shattered life refused to fit back together.

"Metaphorical ones, Mom. The kind that bind you deeper than any lock or key ever could." Her gaze held Sarah’s, unflinching and resolute, revealing the depth of deception they had been entangled in.

"Victoria, I…." Words failed Sarah; the enormity of the reality—a reality twisted by secrets and lies—threatened to swallow her whole.

"Medicine. Every day, little vials of lies," Victoria spat out the words like they were poison. Her arm didn't waver, the gun a steady reminder of the stakes at play.

"Poison?" Sarah sounded like she was choking.

"Medication I didn’t need. Enough to keep me weak in bed… make me too sick to complain or speak my mind." Her eyes flicked away for a fraction of a second, haunted by memories. "Daddy's little invalid."

"Jesus, Sarah." Adam's voice was a tortured whisper. "How come no one found this out?"

"Because he was a master of illusion," Victoria sneered, her finger tightening around the trigger. The mockery of a childhood spent under lock and key was etched in the pallor of her skin, as were the dark circles under her eyes that Sarah had always attributed to her “illness.”

"Your doctor visits…" Sarah started, but her voice broke, tears choking the words. “It was all fake.”

"He paid them all," she said with chilling calmness. "He handpicked them to tell you what he wanted you to hear. Dr. Hancock was his closest ally. He’d do anything for money."

"Victoria, I'm so sorry," Sarah sobbed.

"Sorry won't change the past," she shot back, her voice cold as ice.

"Nor will that gun," Adam interjected, his hands raised placatingly.

"Maybe not. But it makes you listen, doesn't it?" There was power in her stance, in the way she held onto her anger like a shield.

The silence that followed was loaded, a ticking bomb with no countdown. We were trapped in the shockwaves of revelation, each truth detonating closer to the core of their family facade. Victoria's betrayal by her father, Sarah’s blindness until it was too late, and the neighbor’s misplaced trust—the pieces lay scattered, shards too sharp to piece back together without drawing blood.

"Victoria, please," Sarah whispered through tears, the finality of the moment pressing down on us all, "we can help you now."

"Help?" The word came out twisted and unrecognizable. "I don't need help anymore, Mom. I needed it then."

Chapter 57

The room was a charged circuit, each of us a conductor for the surging tension. Sarah's sobs punctured the silence like heartbeats, her shoulders quaking as she knelt on the floor. Adam, a looming figure wrought with anguish, placed a tentative hand upon her heaving back. His eyes, two dark pools reflecting a storm of emotions, never left Victoria.

"Please, Victoria," he implored, voice thick with desperation. "Why did Nicki have to die?"

Victoria stood statuesque, the gun in her hand an extension of her unwavering resolve. Her arm didn't tremble, but her eyes betrayed a storm that threatened to shatter her cool exterior. The weapon felt impossibly heavy in the space between us.

"Adam…." Her voice broke, then steadied like a ship righting itself after a rogue wave. "You don't understand."

"Help me understand!" Adam's plea sliced through the stale air. "Help me see why she deserved this!"

I held my breath, afraid to move or to speak—afraid of breaking the delicate balance that kept us all alive in this moment. My heart drummed a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a silent prayer that no one would crack under the strain.

"Nicki was everything to me," Adam continued, the words tumbling out, a torrent of pain and confusion. "And now she's gone because of what? Some twisted sense of justice?"

"Justice?" Victoria's laugh was hollow, void of any true humor. "You think this is about justice?"

"Then tell me what it's about!" Adam's voice rose, a crescendo of grief and fury.

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