David and Anne sat at the head of the table, their smiles radiating a kind of happiness that seemed almost surreal. They looked so perfect together, like they belonged in a magazine spread. Anne’s makeup was flawless, complementing her radiant smile, while David’s sharp suit and confident demeanor made him look every bit the groom.

Tom and Sarah had gone above and beyond, even presenting them with a brand-new car as a wedding gift. The shiny key sat on the table, reflecting the soft light like a token of their generosity.

David picked up the key, turning it over in his hands with a furrowed brow. “Sarah, why are you giving us so much?” His voice carried both gratitude and confusion.

Sarah sighed, her smile dimming slightly. “Consider it a gift from your parents,” she said softly. Her eyes grew misty and she clasped her hands together. “They’d be overjoyed to see you two finally married.”

At the mention of my parents, the lively atmosphere instantly shifted. A heavy silence blanketed the room, thick and uncomfortable. The sound of Anne’s fork clinking against her plate was the only noise.

I forced myself to remain calm, ignoring the tightening in my chest. My hand moved toward the plate of sweet and sour ribs in the center of the table, my fork poised to take a piece.

Before I could reach it, a sharp sting shot through my wrist as David slapped it away. “Who told you to eat that?” His voice was harsh, cutting through the awkward quiet like a whip. “Let go!”

Sarah flinched, her startled gaze darting between us. “David,” she said hesitantly, her tone a mixture of confusion and concern. “What’s wrong with the dish? Bianca loves this the most....”

David’s jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck standing out as he visibly struggled with something unspoken. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and muttered, “Nothing. It’s just... her last checkup showed something concerning. This isn’t good for her to eat.”

The tension in the room was suffocating, every word weighted with unspoken emotions. Without a word, I stood, picked up my plate and carried it to the kitchen. The clatter of the plate as I set it on the counter echoed in the empty space, louder than it should have been.

As I turned back, a sudden, heavy thud shattered the fragile silence, followed by two more in quick succession. The sounds were dull yet ominous, like sandbags hitting the floor. My pulse quickened, but my movements were deliberate as I walked back into the dining room.

Three bodies lay crumpled on the ground. Anne’s delicate frame was sprawled near her chair, her makeup smudged as if mocking the perfect image she had projected just moments before. Tom and Sarah lay side by side, their faces pale and lifeless.

David, still conscious, struggled against the paralysis overtaking him. His eyes, wide with a mixture of disbelief and seething hatred, locked onto mine. “Bianca,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and trembling. “What did you do? Are you insane?”

I tilted my head, a cold smile tugging at my lips. “Insane?” I echoed, my tone light, almost mocking. Slowly, I stepped toward the kitchen. I picked up a knife from the counter, its blade gleaming under the fluorescent light.

***

I returned to the dining room and approached Tom and Sarah first. Their faces, so kind and warm in life, were now frozen in expressions of shock. My grip on the knife tightened as I stood over them, my chest heaving with a mixture of exhilaration and cold determination.

Without hesitation, I plunged the blade into Tom’s chest. The knife sank deep, the resistance of flesh and bone giving way to the metallic tang of blood filling the air. My vision blurred with crimson, but I didn’t stop. I moved to Sarah, the blade descending again with unyielding force.

When I was certain they had stopped breathing, I turned to Anne. She had always been so kind, so thoughtful. I couldn’t let her suffer.

Kneeling beside her, I whispered, “Thank you, Anne.” Then, I ended it swiftly.

David was the last. His eyes, filled with raw hatred and betrayal, burned into me as I approached. The tension between us was palpable, an unspoken battle raging in the silence.

***

I set the knife down momentarily and walked to the bedroom, retrieving the book he had gifted me years ago. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, I flipped through its pages, the rustle of paper a strange counterpoint to the carnage around us.

“David,” I said softly, my voice almost tender. “Thank you for this book. It’s been very useful. The book says if a person’s spine is injured, they’ll be paralyzed for life, never able to stand again.”

Standing, I moved behind him, my hand trailing lightly along his neck. “It seems to be... just right here,” I murmured.

Before he could respond, I pressed the knife’s tip against the base of his spine and drove it in. His scream tore through the room, a piercing sound that echoed endlessly. His body collapsed, lifelessly limp, a heap of flesh and shattered nerves.

But it wasn’t enough. Ten years of pain, eight years of torment demanded more. Raising the knife again, I slashed at his legs, severing his tendons with a brutal finality. Blood poured from the wound, soaking the floor in a gruesome tableau.

***

The faint sound of voices outside snapped me back to reality. Neighbors, drawn by the noise, were gathering. My time was running out.

I let the knife slip from my fingers, the clang as it hit the floor reverberating through the room. Walking to the door, I opened it wide, letting the stench of blood drift into the air.

Dragging a chair to the windowsill, I climbed up and began tearing down the wedding decorations I had so carefully placed that morning. One by one, the red ribbons and banners fluttered to the blood-soaked floor like mocking remnants of the life that had been celebrated just hours ago.

The last ribbon fell just as the door burst open and the police stormed in, their voices shouting commands. I turned to face them, my expression blank, as they surrounded me, their guns drawn.

The living room was a storm of chaos. Officers moved briskly, their boots clomping heavily against the blood-streaked floor as they snapped photos and bagged evidence. Their faces were etched with a mix of revulsion and professionalism, the gruesome scene testing even the most seasoned among them.

Near the center of the room, David lay sprawled, his body trembling faintly with shallow breaths. His blood-soaked clothes clung to him like a second skin, the metallic tang of blood overpowering the air. When one officer noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest, his shout shattered the tense murmurs.

“He’s alive! Get a stretcher here, now!”

Two paramedics rushed in, their hands steady despite the urgency. They loaded David onto the stretcher, his head lolling weakly to the side as his eyes flickered open and shut. The wail of the ambulance siren outside cut through the oppressive silence, signaling their hasty departure.

***

By the time the officers led me out of the house, the street was a mass of bodies. Neighbors craned their necks from behind the police tape, their faces pale in the flickering red and blue lights. Some whispered in hushed voices; others hurled accusations with venomous fervor.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a wedding day? I saw Sarah this morning, so happy as she picked up groceries! And now, this? Blood everywhere?”

“What kind of monster murders the people who raised her? She killed them in cold blood! Do you think her parents died the same way?”

The weight of their words pressed down on me like iron chains, but my expression remained neutral. My gaze swept across their horrified faces, lingering momentarily on an elderly woman clutching a rosary, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

The murmurs shifted to a crescendo as I was handcuffed and escorted into a patrol car. The officer’s grip on my arm was firm, his fingers digging into my skin as though he feared I’d slip away.

***

The interrogation room was cold, the lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. I sat slumped in the metal chair, my wrists bound tightly, the handcuffs biting into my skin. The air smelled faintly of sweat and the faint hum of a ceiling fan did little to break the suffocating tension.

Across the table, the captain leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Do you think this is a game?” he hissed, his voice low but cutting. “What was your motive? Why did you do it?”

A sharp pain twisted in my abdomen, sharp enough to make me wince. My body curled reflexively and cold sweat drenched my back. I tried to steady my breathing, but each inhale came in shallow, shaky gasps.

The officer’s glare hardened. “Don’t even think about playing sick,” he growled. “We’ve seen that trick too many times. Answer me!”

A weak smile tugged at my lips, though it felt more like a grimace. “Do I need a motive to kill?” I rasped, my voice strained but steady. “If you want an explanation, I can give you one—but I want to see my brother first.”

The younger officer standing in the corner bristled, his temper flaring. “Who do you think you are?” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table. “You’re in no position to make demands! We’ll get the truth out of you, whether you like it or not!”

Just as his outburst filled the room, a knock at the door interrupted him. Another officer entered, a thick file clutched in his hands. He whispered something to the captain, whose stern expression shifted into something more solemn as he read the report.

“Her parents died years ago,” he muttered, his voice low enough that I could barely hear. “She was adopted by the Collins. No records of conflict. But something feels... off.”

He exchanged a glance with his colleague, then straightened up, addressing the room. “We’ll follow her request,” he declared reluctantly. “Let's go to the hospital, maybe her brother knows something.”

***

As the officers filed out, their glares burned into me, each step echoing with unspoken accusations. Left alone in the cold, sterile room, the pain in my abdomen intensified. My body shook uncontrollably, tears mingling with the sweat that dampened my face.

The world blurred, and in that haze, a vision of my mother appeared. Her face was streaked with tears, her voice choked with anger and despair as she argued with my father.

“I told you not to interfere!” she sobbed, her hands trembling. “Now look at us—ruined! Why did this happen? What did we do wrong?”

My father stood silent, his face lined with sorrow. His shoulders sagged under the weight of her words, his sighs heavy with regret.

The memory shifted, dissolving into the day of their funeral. I saw David’s face, pale but resolute, as he gripped my hand tightly. “Bianca,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “From now on, it’s just the two of us. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.”

Anne’s warmth enveloped me next. Her arms wrapped around me in a gentle embrace, her voice soft and soothing. “You’re my sister now,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “My home is your home. My parents are your parents.”

***

The sharp sound of a door slamming open jolted me back to reality. A group of officers stormed in, their faces grim. Without a word, they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out of the room.

When my vision cleared, I found myself outside a hospital room. An officer stood beside me, his voice filled with righteous fury.

“Look at what you’ve done to your brother!” he barked, gesturing toward the window. Inside, David lay motionless on the bed, his body hooked up to an array of monitors. “How are we supposed to question him now? Confess! Why did you do this?”

I ignored his words, my gaze fixed on the monitor displaying David’s vitals. The steady beeping was almost soothing. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, echoing in the sterile hallway.

“He’ll live,” I said, my voice calm and detached. “He’s always been so stubborn. If I wanted him dead, I would’ve struck harder.” I paused, a cold smile curving my lips. “Oh, by the way, can you confirm he’s permanently paralyzed now?”

The moment my taunting words left my lips, an officer standing nearby grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back with brutal precision. Pain lanced through my shoulder, sharp and overwhelming, forcing a gasp from my throat. My knees buckled slightly, but I forced myself to remain upright, swallowing the cry that threatened to escape.

“We’ve already let you meet your brother,” the officer growled, his breath hot and furious against my ear. “Now tell us your motive!”

The strain on my arm was unbearable, my pulse pounding in my ears like a drum. Even so, I managed a slow, deliberate shake of my head, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ll only speak to David,” I murmured, my tone laced with venom. “After all, he is my most beloved brother....”

My calm defiance was a dagger to the officers’ patience. I felt their frustration in the way the officer’s grip tightened, his knuckles whitening. But I knew I had the upper hand and they hated it. This case had become a spectacle and the public demanded swift answers. They had no time to waste.

After a tense deliberation, one officer left to fetch a doctor, hoping to force David awake. But fate seemed to favor my wicked desires; before the officer returned, David’s eyelids fluttered and his glassy eyes slowly opened.

A sinister smile tugged at my lips. I raised my hand, wiggling my fingers in a mocking wave through the glass window. The motion was slow, deliberate. A gesture meant only for him.

But I had barely moved twice before the officers yanked me into the room.

***

The sterile room, permeated by a faint antiseptic scent, was punctuated by the rhythmic beeping of machines. Their glowing displays cast an eerie green light across the walls. The sight of David, pale and vulnerable on the hospital bed, elicited a perverse sense of satisfaction within me.

He turned his head at the sound of the door opening, his hollow gaze locking onto mine. Recognition sparked, quickly replaced by a murderous glare that burned hotter than any words he could summon.

"You lunatic!" David snarled, summoning a surge of strength and attempting to lunge at me. But his body betrayed him. He collapsed to the floor before he could reach me.

“Bianca, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you with my own hands! Tom and Sarah were good to you! Anne—” His voice broke and for a fleeting moment, anguish overtook his anger. “Anne loved you like her own sister. How could you do this to them?”

His words struck like shards of glass, but they only fanned the flames inside me. Laughter erupted from my lips, wild and uncontrollable, spilling into the room with a manic edge. Tears blurred my vision, hot streams carving paths down my cheeks, but the laughter didn’t stop.

“David,” I choked out between gasps, my voice trembling with raw emotion. “Do you think you have the right to question me? You—the one who caused all of this?” I took a step forward and then another, each one deliberate, measured.