This incident happened not long ago. One month before the prom.
I saw it with my own eyes. Anastasia lay limp beside the bathtub, the water tinted red, a small razor slipping from her grasp.
Anastasia, my beloved daughter, the child I raised with nothing but love. I never once imagined that Anastasia would do something so desperate.
The Anastasia I knew had always been a rather sensitive child. She was clumsy, overly enthusiastic, yet would burst into tears if she was shouted at or scolded. Like a little child, that was how Anastasia had always been. She could neither act harshly nor endure harsh treatment.
What went wrong? As I rushed her to the hospital, I kept guessing. What had happened that made Anastasia want to end her own life?
While Anastasia was still in critical condition due to severe blood loss, Drizella told me everything.
Drizella said that Anastasia had been bullied by her classmates, and so had Drizella herself. They were often pelted with paper balls during lessons, frequently tripped while walking. Insults and curses had become a familiar sound to their ears. Even the desks of my two daughters were covered in vulgar words.
"Anastasia often cries in the toilet," Drizella said. "Especially when Alice and Fairy, Ella's friends, come over and start bullying us."
Foolish children who believed Ella's fabricated words.
I could picture it clearly. Ella talking in the middle of the classroom, gossiping at her desk. Her classmates gathered around, ears burning with excitement, listening to every lie she told. Lies about Anastasia and Drizella abusing Ella at home. I could imagine it. The sympathy and hatred slowly taking root in those students' eyes. Sympathy for Ella. Hatred toward my two daughters.
"Anastasia and I already told them it was all lies, Mom!" Drizella explained. "But no one in the class believed us. They believed Ella instead. Especially Alice and Fairy. They didn't know anything, yet they helped Ella spread those rumors."
Drizella's tears fell as she spoke. With a handkerchief, I wiped the damp trails on her cheeks. Inside Anastasia's hospital room, I held both of my daughters. Drizella trembling in her sobs. And Anastasia, still asleep. Everything they had gone through until now, I could feel it. Ella had gone too far.
You might think I am foolish for only realizing it recently, for only now taking this matter seriously. Ella had been lying for a long time. I should have confronted her earlier. I should have been firmer with that girl. I know. I truly am a foolish mother, allowing my own children to become victims of lies.
How ridiculous. I once thought Ella would change. I hoped she would realize her mistakes and straighten out her lies on her own. Soften Ella's heart? Foolish. It was like a child hoping to meet a flower fairy in spring. Impossible. Ella had already been ruined by hatred. She was not a good girl, Inspector.
Fortunately, the next morning, Anastasia regained consciousness. I was by her side. Her fragile eyelashes trembled as her eyelids slowly opened. Gradually, with still-dazed eyes, my precious daughter turned her head and called my name in a faint voice.
"It's okay," I whispered, clasping her cold hand. "Everything will be fine. It's okay. It's okay."
My daughter smiled weakly. Her pale lips parted, silently mouthing an apology.
I could no longer hold back my tears. I was overjoyed that Anastasia had awakened from her coma. I could not imagine what would become of me if my daughter had left, following her father who had already become a star in the sky. With tears of happiness still falling, I hurried to the door, calling for any doctor or nurse in the corridor.
I wanted Anastasia, my daughter, to receive the best treatment possible. And Ella… Ella would receive the punishment she deserved.
I thought it was time for me to be a little stricter with that girl.
After making sure Anastasia's condition had begun to improve, I returned home. Ella was in her room. I knew it. I knocked hard on her bedroom door, shouting her name. There was no answer. The knocking turned into relentless pounding. Even so, there was still no response.
Threats such as, "Ella, come out or Mama won't give you dinner," or, "Mama will break the door down if you don't open it," were completely ineffective.
As a last resort, I took the key, a kind of master key, that could open every door in the house, including Ella's room.
Just like that, Ella's room opened. An orange sky could be seen through the window, its curtains left open.
The girl sat on her bed, hugging a framed photograph. A photo of her with her biological mother. I felt a flicker of pity when I saw the image, but this was not the time for sympathy.
"What are you...!" Ella glared at me from atop her pillow. Her eyes were filled with anger and disbelief. "You used the master key to force your way in? How dare you...."
"You, you…" Returning her glare, I stepped closer. "It's rude to address your own mother as 'you.' I am your mother. And besides...."
"You're not my mother," Ella snapped. "You never will be."
She placed the photo frame beside her pillow and stood up straight to face me. Her chin lifted, her gaze looking down on me.
"Even if you married my Dad. Even if you're the one who cooks breakfast and dinner. Even if you shamelessly filled this house with your furniture and personal belongings. You… you will NEVER be the mother of this house."
I should have understood that already. I knew it. But hearing Ella say it out loud was truly infuriating.
"It's only Mama," Ella said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Only Mama. The one and only mother in this house. There can't be anyone else. You, Mrs. Tremaine… you're nothing more than a stranger."
I closed my eyes and swallowed, as if forcing myself to swallow every emotion whole.
"But...." I reached out, wanting to grasp her shoulder, only for my hand to be slapped away roughly. "Your mother, your biological mother, is gone, Ella. How long are you going to keep acting like this? You have to let her go. Especially after your father's death, you should be able to see us as your new family."
Perhaps my words sounded harsh, Inspector. But with all the emotions consuming me at that moment, I had little choice.
I only wanted to wake Ella up. I wanted her to look forward with me. Toward a future filled with happiness. My dream family.
With great hope, I asked Ella to stop everything. The lies she had created. The gossip and false stories about me and my two daughters. I wanted Ella to set things right. I wanted her to stop lying.
"Anastasia nearly died by suicide because of what you did," I reminded her. "Don't you feel even a little sorry seeing your own sister bullied at school, mocked and harassed every single day?"
"No," she replied. That girl lowered her head, her eyes hidden beneath the shadow of her bangs. "Go away."
I froze when I heard the flat tone of her answer. How could Ella feel no sympathy for what had happened to Anastasia? I wanted to ask, to protest. But before I could say anything, Ella pushed me.
"Go away. Get out!" she shouted, driving me out of her room.
At that moment, I was finally certain. Ella had to be punished. And I, as her stepmother, would be the one to punish her.
"What kind of punishment?" you ask?
If I were dealing with an ordinary child, perhaps I would have reduced her allowance or taken away her dinner. However, you already know, Inspector. Ella would never learn her lesson from something so light. It required something more….
And that 'something' was right in front of me.
While restraining Ella's weak resistance, I grabbed the photo frame beside the pillow, intending to take it out of the room.
Unwilling to accept it, Ella tried to stop me. We struggled. Ella clawed at my arm, screaming curses like "bastard," "jerk," and "damn it." "What are you going to do with that photo? That's my mom! Don't!"
But once again, I had no choice. I did not have the heart to take such a precious memento from her. However, in my opinion, this was the best way to punish her.
Not only the photo on the bed, I also took the framed photos lined up on her study desk. Ella wailed louder, breaking into sobs, struggling even more wildly until she lost her balance and fell.
In that moment, I also took the key to her room that hung near the coat rack. Then I left immediately and locked the door. Ella's screams echoed, deafening.
"The photos?" you ask?
There is no need to worry, Inspector. I did nothing to them. I did not throw them away. I did not damage them. Not a single scratch. I kept them in my room. Of course, after I felt Ella had learned her lesson, I returned them.
"I promise I won't spread any more gossip," Ella said from inside her still-locked room. Her voice sounded serious and convincing. "Please, give the photos back, Ma."
That was the first time I heard Ella call me 'Ma.' Mama.
"Mama will return all the photos," I promised. "But there is a condition."
"I'll do anything Mama asks. I'll correct the lies. I'll tell my friends to stop bothering Anastasia and Drizella at school."
"Of course, you must do that, Ella."
"Yes. I will."
"But that's not the condition Mama means."
I heard her click her tongue. "What condition now?"
Standing in front of the closed bedroom door, I smiled. "At the prom, you must wear the dress and the glass shoes Mama bought for you."
With a sigh and a reluctant yes from Ella, I thought everything would end there. I thought I could finally begin building my dream family.
I never imagined that the prom would end in disaster.