I was the one who killed Ella.
I'm sorry. I don't know what was going through my head back then, Inspector. Everything felt dark. I hated Ella, but even now, I still can't believe… I could do something that cruel to her. I didn't… mean to…
Thank you for the tissue, Inspector. Sorry, I can't stop crying.
"Just tell it slowly," you said?
You're really kind, Inspector. I feel so relieved. Before I decided to confess, I was terrified. I thought I'd be taken straight to the police station, handcuffed, dragged into some underground prison full of bad people. People who would bother me, bully me, every single day inside a cell.
You're not going to take me to a place like that, right, Inspector?
"No. Calm down," you said? Are you... are you really sure?
I've watched movies about prison life before. The kind-hearted main character gets framed, accused of committing a crime. Locked up in a tiny room with other inmates. Beaten, kicked, their food taken away. Forced to sleep on a hard, freezing floor. Alone.
The world inside a prison… is really… nowhere near "Wonderland."
I confessed because… I thought maybe it would help. Maybe I wouldn't get punished so badly. I know I would've been caught anyway. It was only a matter of time.
My fingerprints are on that object, right, Inspector? They should be. The object that became the murder weapon… are you and your forensic team still examining it?
…So it's still in the lab.
"The investigation is still ongoing," you said?
So that's why you can't arrest me and take me to prison yet? For some reason, hearing that makes me happy. That means I still have a little time of freedom, right? At least, I still have time to talk. To explain everything to you.
So please listen carefully, Inspector.
I really did kill Ella. I'm the one who… committed that crime.
But it's not entirely my fault. Ella started it first.
***
The first time I met Ella, I thought she was a quiet girl.
On our parents' wedding day, Ella just sat there silently. Her face was gloomy, no smile at all, almost sulking. Her brows were furrowed. Completely different from the white dress and flower headband she wore, the aura she gave off felt dark.
I thought she was sick. Maybe a fever? Or a headache?
My sister, Drizella, thought the same thing. "Are you not feeling well?" Drizella was the first to talk to Ella. "Do you need something? Medicine?"
I took out a mint candy from my pocket, the one Mom gave me before the wedding started. "Do you want some?" I offered it to her, hoping she'd take it with a smile.
But Ella stayed silent. She only turned her head slightly, looking at me and Drizella with a flat stare. No expression. No words. It felt like staring at a statue. Suddenly, everything felt awkward. Beneath the mosaic glass of Mother Mary, Drizella and I froze, meeting Ella's empty eyes.
She must be lonely, I thought.
Ella had lived without a mother, without siblings. Just her and her father. The two of them. I couldn't imagine what her daily life was like. When her father went to work, Ella must've been alone at home. What did she do then? Play by herself? Puzzles, a dollhouse, games meant for one person? Or maybe she studied, read books alone in her room. Alone?
I always had Drizella with me whenever Mama worked. She could be annoying, sure. She stole my snacks all the time. But she was still my sister. I was never really alone.
"Starting today, we'll be sisters," I said cheerfully, pulling my lips into a wide smile.
"We can play together later," Drizella added, nodding. "What games do you like?"
Once again, Ella didn't answer. Her lips stayed tightly closed. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead at the altar, where Mom and Dad stood, exchanging vows in front of the priest.
Even without a smile, I thought Ella would be happy about the wedding. She would finally have a mother again. She could taste a mother's cooking. Just like how Drizella and I longed for a father figure in our lives, Ella must've longed for a mother too.
Maybe Ella was just shy. Like a newly adopted kitten, maybe she was still a little scared of us.
During the first few days after we moved into that house, Ella barely spoke. She stayed in her room most of the time. Drizella and I invited her to play several times, but she always refused. We wanted to explore the house, from the front yard, hallways, bedrooms, maybe even hidden rooms. Ella's secret playgrounds. We thought it'd be more fun if Ella joined us, like a tour guide showing us around her big house.
Like the backyard, for example. It was full of flowers and plants. Drizella and I had no idea what any of them were called. If Ella played with us, maybe she could say, "Oh, that one's a tulip. And that's an iris. Try smelling it, it's really fragrant."
But that never happened.
"I'm sorry. Ella still hasn't adapted to you yet. Her new family," I remember Dad saying once. "She still misses her mom a lot."
We understood. Drizella and I had felt the same way before. Losing a parent.
Ella needed time, I thought.
And so did we. Me, Drizella, and Mom needed a lot of effort to make Ella comfortable with our presence in her home.
At dinner, Mom and Dad always talked about many things. Movies everyone was talking about, their favorite scenes. Music playing on the radio. Mom's delicious cooking. What Drizella and I did at school, our homework and assignments. Even vacation plans. Christmas gifts.
"I want a teddy bear!" Drizella shouted excitedly.
With the same wide smile, I told Dad that I wanted a doll for Christmas too.
Dad smiled faintly and nodded.
Mom scolded us. "You shouldn't ask like that," she said. "That's rude."
But Drizella and I still cheered happily.
"What about Ella?" Drizella asked with her mouth full of food. "Ella, what do you want for Christmas?"
"Do you want a doll too?" I asked.
Once again, Ella didn't answer. She ate Mom's pumpkin soup without interest. Just a few spoonfuls before she said, "Thank you for the meal." Then she went back to her room, leaving her unfinished dinner on the table.
I think Dad didn't understand Ella's behavior either.
On Christmas Day, Dad bought Ella many gifts. A complete art set, a sunflower-patterned sweater, the latest Barbie doll, colorful hair clips. Since Ella never said what she wanted, Dad must've been confused and ended up buying a lot. Just to make his daughter happy. He really loved her.
Honestly… that made me a little jealous, Inspector.
Even though I got the teddy bear I'd always wanted, seeing Ella's surprised expression each time she opened a box made my own gift feel… meaningless.
"So nice being Ella," I whispered to Drizella. "She gets so many presents."
Drizella crossed her arms and gave a bitter smile. "That's normal," she said. "Dad is her real father."
"I want lots of presents too."
I faintly heard Drizella sigh. "If next year you keep sulking, barely talking, barely smiling, maybe you can be like Ella." Her bitter smile turned into laughter. A laugh filled with mockery.
I shook my head, already used to her attitude. "Maybe if I act sweet in front of Dad more often, he'll give me lots of gifts too."
"Oh come on, Anastasia," Drizella looked doubtful. "Do you really think that'll work?"
"Maybe," I said. "You know I often get good grades at school. If I keep them up and show Dad, maybe he'll be a little more proud of me."
Drizella smiled uncertainly. But I believed it with all my heart.
Even as a stepfather, I believed Dad was a good man. I wanted to feel his affection. The affection of a man I'd never had before. Just like Ella, I wanted Dad to see me as his real daughter. Not just a stepdaughter.
But that never happened.
Dad died in an accident. Ella's biological father left us, just like my biological father who died when Drizella and I were still babies.
Again, this happens. We weren't even that close yet. I hadn't felt enough of his love. I hadn't said good morning to him enough times. I still wanted to have breakfast and dinner with him again. The father figure I'd always dreamed of.
My tears wouldn't stop during the funeral. When the coffin was lowered and wet soil covered it. When flowers were scattered. When only his photo remained, held in Mom's arms as she cried uncontrollably.
We all mourned Dad, Inspector. But the one who suffered the most was Ella.
As his biological daughter, she must've been devastated. No wonder she locked herself in her room after returning from the cemetery, refusing to eat for two days. The only family connected to her by blood was gone. It was natural for her to be angry, rebellious, in denial.
For some reason, I thought it was understandable if Ella became a little rougher than usual.
Slamming doors. Refusing to eat breakfast and dinner with us. Never touching Mom's cooking again, only eating bread with jam. Locking her bedroom door. To me, behavior like that was still tolerable, Inspector.
Yeah, it was still tolerable.
Ella's true mischief, her lies, her cruelty only truly began… when she became friends with Alice and Fairy.