Trudy was relapsing.

She thought she could get better, she thought she had the will to do so, she thought she was determined enough, but as she stared at the high-priced oil painting, Trudy realized she wasn't getting any better but only living in illusions. According to Louis Green The Junior - her father - the oil painting was the closest thing to the masterpiece named The Scream by the undeniably talented artist Edvard Munch back in 1893. Despite the colored canvas staring back at her being a dupe for the real thing - which was a big no-go for Trudy - the delicately detailed art still moved the muscle in Trudy's chest that pumped her blood.

She refused to call it a heart, because Trudy was a bad bitch, she was immune to feelings, yet the random swirls of rusty orange, dark blue, and black made the tears build in her weakened, brown eyes. It could have something to do with the horrifyingly dark themed picture that described Trudy's panicked state perfectly, or how broken Trudy really was.

Trudy should be happy, she managed to finally end things with Justin The Wuss, but deep down, Trudy knew that if Justin were to leave her life, then no one was left to take care of her. Who else would bring her chocolate in the middle of the night? Who else would keep calling her pretty pet names and stick around even after her rudeness and bitchiness towards them? Who else would crave her company, or try so hard to be funny just to hear her laugh, or complement her dreamy eyes?

Trudy knew that her relationship with Justin wasn't healthy for the both of them. She did appreciate having Justin around her and him bringing joy and happiness into her depressed life, but it wasn't enough to overlook the clinginess, the racist jokes, and the concerning violence. She knew she needed to wrap things up with Justin, but not like that - with him openly admitting that she was done for, aka crazy. Justin must've realized what a piece of shit Trudy really was, which was the only reason he left her alone. Somehow, that was worse than harassing her.

"It's worth a lot of money, this painting," Paige said, standing next to Trudy in the spacious hallway and joining her appreciation to the art piece. Trudy's mother was so sophisticated and on point in a flared long sleeved See By Chloé blouse, its burgundy color complementing Paige's dark skin-tone so nicely that any words couldn't describe it to justice. Her black, short hair that barely reached her V-shaped jaw contrasted with her professional outfit, giving her a fun edge to her overall aura. "If I'm being honest, you're the last person I expected to show interest in it."

"Why is that?" Trudy glared at the plastic surgeon. "Just admit it, you think I'm dumb and stupid and shallow-"

"Woah, take it slow there," Paige tutted, clicking her Prada pumps against the marbled tiles. Paige eyed her daughter with an intense concern that Trudy couldn't tell if it was for her or about her. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

Trudy gulped, ripping her shattered eyes and focusing them on the painting, too week to maintain a gaze and too tired to make out the magnificent details of the art work. "I don't care about money or reputation or status when nobody really cares for me."

"Oh, darling," Paige heaved a sigh, skilled hands massaging Trudy's wrists. "I know, it might seem like your father and I aren't giving you the attention you deserve, but trust me when I say we're looking out after you. After all, why would we keep working when we could retire and live peacefully for the rest of our lives? We want to ensure you and Sandra the future and keep the family's legacy-"

"No, it's not about that." Trudy groaned, snatching her hands away despite her mother's comforting massage because physical contact was intimate. "Okay, maybe just a little bit, but not entirely. It's-"

"I know," Paige smiled sadly, the slightest wrinkles evident in the edges of her plump mouth. "I understand how hard it is to have an older sister that always steals the spotlight from you. Your aunt Hailey always did that to me."

"Are you saying that you knew about Sandra's ways with me?" Trudy attacked, anger raging inside of her all of a sudden. "Why didn't you say anything to me? Why did you turn a blind eye when you knew what was happening to me?"

"I wanted you to discover yourself like I did with Hailey, because only then you'd be stronger." Paige shifted her weight on both of her legs, smiling at the painting as the tables turned and she was the one who needed to avoid eye-contact. "You may not realize it now, but everything your father and I have done was for your own good. I'm sorry if our ways seem a little harsh, darling, it's a tough world out there, and not everything is handed to you in a diamond plate, so you need to learn how to manage yourself."

"I know that, I've been managing myself ever since I was born," Trudy spat, although she regretted her words once she saw the hurt expression on her mother's pretty face. Trudy knew that the plastic surgeon meant no harm, knew that every word she just said was fully true, but some things were out of control, it seemed like. "I'm sorry," Trudy heaved out, palms covering her face from embarrassment, "It's just that my ex-"

"Trudy, there you are!" Sandra smiled broadly, walking towards her and grabbing her arm. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Come to my room, I want to show you my final designs."

Wait, what? "Since when do you show me your designs?" Trudy pulled against Sandra's grasp, but unlike Paige, Sandra's fingers were like strong claws. "And since when do you even invite me inside your room?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Trudy," Sandra laughed, looking a bit strange since she removed her turquoise blue contacts, her blond hair extensions, and her seamless makeup. "I want your opinion on one of the dresses, since I designed it thinking of you."

Trudy couldn't help but gasp at that. No way did her selfish sister create a dress inspired by her, even if she did then she would've been too proud to admit it out loud. It didn't take long for Trudy to realize that this whole thing was a big fat lie aimed at her mother.

"Go on, Trudy," Paige urged, falling for Sandra's show, "Who knows? You might even bond together."

Shaking her head at her mother's obliviousness, Trudy allowed her body to be dragged by Sandra to her bedroom. The second the door was closed, Sandra's good-loving-sister act was dropped. "What the hell, Trudy?" Sandra snapped, "This is the last time I step in and stop you from snitching on yourself. God, you have such a big mouth it's infuriating."

"No, she'll help me-"

"There's nothing she can do, Trudy." Sandra interrupted. "Justin didn't do anything of that sort to you, so all what telling her would do to you is worsen her image of you, especially after what happened with your teacher. She might even send you away to live with Grandma Rose back in the countryside, and dad will support her decision. They did it before, and they will do it again"

"No, this is different. Mom and dad will understand-"

Sandra shook her head, her glare more petrifying since it wasn't hidden under the contacts. "I'm done trying to make you see the real thing, Trudy. Live in your illusions if you want, just know that next time you slip up, you're on your own."

"Please," Trudy whimpered, eyes glued on the floor. "I don't want to lose you too..."

Sandra's neat eyebrows cocked. "What are you talking about?" Hesitantly, she reached her hand and touched Trudy's shoulder to get a better look at her face. Once she did so, Sandra took two steps back, dark eyes widened. "Are you crying, Trudy? God, how deep are you?"

Trudy got it real bad. She tried to keep the tears at bay, to maintain the gasps for air under control, and to hold her head high, but she failed. Sandra must be thinking how pathetic Trudy was, and Trudy was honestly thinking the same about herself. I'm hopeless.

"Wait here," were Sandra's words as she unlocked the luxurious door and went god knew where.

Left all alone, Trudy took a deep breath, pointing a finger at herself. "You keep it together," she whispered, frowning at how shaky her voice was, "This can wait till you're in your room, don't give Sandra the privilege of seeing you like this."

By talking to herself, Trudy just confirmed that she was a true psychological nutcase. Taking in another shaky breath and letting it out, Trudy's brown eyes finally looked up and had a proper scan of her surroundings. Her sister's room was luxurious, with a walk-in closet, a fancy bathroom, and a spacious bedroom that was so organized and filled by fengshui Trudy felt like she was violating its neatness by breathing the air and stepping on the fuzzy carpet. Unlike Trudy's room which had an exclusive view on the exotic garden, Sandra's window offered the sight of the front gate which gave her the privilege of keeping up with who entered and who left. Sandra's room had an extra door which was left ajar at the moment.

Trudy was curious because it had been so long since the last time Trudy was in her sister's room. She peaked inside, careful to keep a fair distance to play it cool in case Sandra came back quicker than expected. Once her brown eyes adjusted to the slight darkness, they widened and ran over everything in hopes of catching every detail. The room was small, and by the looks of it, could be considered an office or a work space. Sandra's studying desk was clutter-free, having her laptop, her favorite pencils, and sketchbook out in display. Some big brand posters like Chanel and Dolce And Gabanna were on the wall as an inspiration. It was so inviting and screamed 'productivity' that it made Trudy - who sucked at anything creative - want to sit down and design.

Before that small room became Sandra's working space, it was Sandra's and Trudy's playing area. Trudy could vividly remember all the dollhouses and toys that were stacked in there, that their parents bought for them for Christmas but Sandra managed to convince her that they were for her only, and how they used to play under Sandra's annoying conditions.

"This is my dollhouse, remember?" twelve-year-old Sandra hissed at eight-year-old Trudy, "So I'm the one in charge, got it?"

"Fine." Trudy huffed, but she still obliged to Sandra's wishes since she gave up putting a fight a long time ago. She had an issue with her tummy and thighs while sitting on the carpet since she was fat as a cow, always relying on chocolate and junk food - her only friends - for comfort. "But I always play with the broken Barbie. It's not fair."

"Let me tell you what's not fair; our skin," Trudy didn't understand what Sandra meant back then, yet it was the start of Trudy's insecurities still. "You'll play with that doll because that's exactly what you are in this family; a broken, unnecessary asset that nobody wants but still has to put up with."

That bitter memory triggered yet another - it was the night before the Christmas in which Paige Harrison and Louis Green bought that magnificent, dream dollhouse for their two daughters.

Seven-year-old Trudy was seeing shapes in the dark, the aftermath of the horror movie which Sandra forced her to watch for this exact reason. She hopped off of her soft bed and sprinted in the direction of her parents' bedroom for the much needed comfort. However, on her way there, she heard papers being ripped. She feared that it was the same scary ghost from the movie she watched - oh no!

She wanted to run away and hide, but Trudy was too curious for her own good. She followed the sound, leading her to the magnificent Christmas tree. Trudy gasped in horror, because the sight was more horror filled than witnessing a ghost.

Sandra was huddled over, switching the gifts and writing her name instead.

"That's not good, Sandy," Trudy said, careful not to upset her sister, "You'll get Santa upset and-"

Sandra was startled. She jumped to her feet but managing to compose herself back into confidence with ease. "It doesn't matter what you saw, those gifts are for me anyways," Sandra hissed, "Besides," She flipped her long, black hair. "Santa doesn't exist. It's a lie, just like your upcoming dreams and goals."

The words were too heavy and hate-filled that it slipped Trudy's mind, but it molded her into her future self nonetheless. Trudy shrugged her puffed shoulder and ran away to go into her presents bedroom.

"Hey, where are you going?" Sandra hissed after her, keeping her voice a threatening whisper.

Trudy stopped in her tracks. "To mommy," Trudy said, "That movie scared me so much, Sandy, I'll never watch another horror movie again!"

"That bad, huh?" Eleven-year-old Sandra smirked. "You can't go in there, go back to your room, Trudy."

Trudy stomped on her bare feet. "But I can't sleep."

"You have to, Trudy, don't you understand?" Sandra hissed, her glare scarier than the empty hollows of the witch in the movie. "Or do you want our parents to get a divorce because of you?"

"Divorce?" Trudy didn't know what that word meant - it sounds like a disease - but she didn't want it happening to her parents. She shook her head, dreamy eyes widened. "No, I don't want them to get that."

"Then go back into your room." Sandra smiled, glad she got her way like always.