Chapter 5 - The Sister's Game
The hospital chapel smelled of stale air and desperation, a sanctuary of silence that felt less like a place of worship and more like a tomb. Camille knelt on the cold stone floor, her hands clutching the hem of her dress, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Across from her, Vanessa sat in a wooden pew, her posture relaxed, her manicured fingers interlaced.
"You’re trembling," Vanessa noted, her voice smooth, devoid of the hysteria that had defined her since the party. "It’s almost cute. Like a little bird afraid of the storm."
"I’m not afraid," Camille choked out, her voice cracking. "I’m trying to understand. Why? Why would you do that to her? She’s a child."
"She’s a replica of you," Vanessa said, standing up. She walked to the railing and looked down at the altar, her back to Camille. "You think I’m the monster? You think because I’m the younger sister, I have to be the villain in everyone's story? No, Camille. You’re the favorite. You always were. Harper gets the toys, the praise, the adoration. I get the scraps."
Camille felt the walls of the chapel closing in. "She drank that cup. She was sick because of you."
"I know," Vanessa said, turning back. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I watched her take the first sip. I watched the color drain from her face. It was beautiful."
"No," Camille screamed, the sound tearing at her throat. She scrambled to her feet, lunging toward her sister. "You’re lying. You’re crazy. You didn't mean for her to drink it. You just wanted to scare us."
Vanessa didn't flinch. "Oh, I intended for it to be a drink. A little something to help Camille relax. But then Harper got thirsty. And really, Camille... you should have been the one there. You should have been the one drinking the pink poison instead of her."
The revelation hit Camille with the force of a physical blow. "You wanted to kill me," she whispered, the realization freezing her blood. "You wanted to hurt me."
"I wanted you to feel it," Vanessa corrected, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. "I wanted you to know what it feels like to watch your own child die. To know that your perfect life is just a glass of poison away."
Camille opened her mouth to scream again, but the sound died in her throat. She pounded on the heavy oak door, screaming for Ethan, for a nurse, for God. But the chapel was a tomb. The thick glass and soundproofing ensured that her cries were nothing but a pathetic, internal vibration.
"Save your breath," Vanessa said, turning toward the door. "No one can hear you here. You’re trapped just like I am."
Suddenly, the heavy door swung open with a deafening crash. Light flooded the dim room, blinding Camille. Ethan stood in the threshold, flanked by two uniformed police officers, his face a mask of terrifying rage.
"Get her out of here," Ethan roared, pointing a shaking finger at Vanessa. "She’s the one who did it. I know it."
Vanessa didn't resist as the officers handcuffed her. She allowed herself to be led away without a word, her head held high. As she passed Camille, she paused, locking eyes with her. A cruel, knowing smirk played on her lips.
May you like
The officers dragged Vanessa toward the exit, but just before she stepped into the hallway, Vanessa looked back over her shoulder, her voice cutting through the air.
"They'll never find the antidote," she said, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Because there isn't one. But maybe, just maybe, you'll figure out who really did this."
