A year ago

The papers spread out on the desk in front of me might as well have been written in a different language; I couldn't focus on them. The clock ticked steadily in the background, reminding me that the work week was coming to a close. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, and all I wanted was to be home already. I didn't feel happy at all, but I made sure to keep my emotions hidden from my coworkers, as I always did.

I kept my troubles to myself, afraid of being rejected if I opened up to someone. Although I yearned to confide in someone about my worries and struggles, I couldn't find anyone I felt truly comfortable trusting. While I got along with some coworkers at my job, our relationship never seemed to go beyond the workplace, leaving me feeling alone and disconnected.

There was only one person I could truly trust these days, and that was my sister. However, our relationship had been strained by recent misunderstandings, and we were no longer as close as we used to be. A few years ago, an incident had damaged our friendship, and despite my repeated apologies, it was never fully repaired. To make amends for the harm I caused, I took on extra work and tried my best to alleviate the tension between us. But my efforts were in vain; our bond remained fractured.

Inhaling deeply, I calmed my nerves and focused on my duties. Despite the occasional stress, I adored the job I held. On good days, my responsibilities consisted of responding to emails and ensuring that everything met my boss's standards.

Working for a superhero was no easy feat. Inferno Knight was one of the most remarkable in the field. I'd admired him since childhood; his strength and determination were unmatched. But what truly captivated me was his ability to show that fire powers could be used for good, a concept my Mother often dismissed due to her own fear of my abilities.

My Mother's voice echoed through the walls, calling my name. I hesitated, not wanting to face her yet. I knew she would only criticize me and point out my mistakes. It didn't matter if the end result was achieved; if it wasn't done in her exact way, it was wrong.

Earlier, my Mother had made me fold both of our clothes. I didn't like doing it, but I knew it was my responsibility to put my things back where they belonged.

That's what good daughters do, right?

But I couldn't help but wonder why she couldn't take care of her own belongings. It was always easier for her to make one of her daughters do all the work while she went off and spent time with her lovers. And when she returned, she expected a hot meal and a clean house, as if I were her servant.

Despite my frustrations, I never voiced them to her. My sister and I were always last on my Mother's list of priorities. So I learned to keep my thoughts to myself and act as if I didn't care. But beneath the surface, I was boiling with anger, like a witch's cauldron in a cartoon.

Every time she called me in that high-pitched, annoying voice, I could feel the urge to strangle her. My only solace was my ability to control fire with my hands. Watching the flames flicker always brought me a sense of peace, but I had to keep it hidden from her. If she found out, it would likely result in another heated argument between us.

Along the way, I couldn't help but marvel at Inferno Knight's extraordinary abilities - his command over flames and heat was unmatched, and I caught myself daydreaming about my own potential if I had honed my powers to the same level as him.

When I was a child, I took great pride in my ability to control fire. I yearned to use it for good, to make a positive impact and save lives. However, my Mother never supported this dream of mine and I had no choice but to respect her wishes. It was a painful realization that not only could I not help others, but I struggled to even help myself. As a wave of sadness washed over me, I couldn't help but feel defeated by my own limitations.

Although my Mother strongly objected, my love for superheroes led me to take a different path from those who shared similar abilities. Instead of becoming a hero like them, I enrolled in the prestigious Academy of Hero Communication (ACE), known for its specialized programs for individuals who wanted to collaborate with superheroes.

Even though my father, a superhero in his own right, would have supported me if I had chosen to follow in his footsteps, he loved and respected my Mother too much to argue with her. Despite everything that has happened, he still loves her deeply, even though she doesn't deserve it.

She only cares about herself.

The academy was very selective, and only a few students were accepted each year into its various programs. Applicants had to already have a license for their superpowers or have completed basic training before being considered for admission.

Despite my Mother's disapproval of my career path, I was determined to change her mind. I managed to get accepted into three out of the four majors offered by ACE. While my father was proud of my achievements in Superhero Public Speaking, Social Media Management, and Superhero Journalism courses, it was a grueling schedule that left little time for myself. But it was all worth it in the end.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the papers in front of me, lost in my own thoughts. Back in college, life seemed so much simpler - my sister and I shared a modest apartment and worked tirelessly to afford our desires, even if they weren't necessities. Although our income wasn't substantial, we had each other and that was all that mattered. But things have changed since then.

I watched my younger sister playfully dart around the park, my heart racing with worry that something might happen to her. I had just picked her up from school and she begged to spend some time in the park. Despite needing to study for my upcoming chemistry test, I gave in to her request. Chemistry had never been my strong suit, despite hours of tutoring. My dad understood and accepted this, but my Mother was insistent on me excelling in it.

I was determined to get an A, even though I knew it was unlikely. My fear of her drove me to do everything in my power to please her. The last time I brought home a B, she punished me as if it were the end of the world. I shuddered to think what would happen if I ever brought home a lower grade. My dad wasn't aware of her actions, but he suspected something was off. He worked tirelessly for our family and was rarely at home. He would come home late after we had already fallen asleep and leave early before we woke up. I couldn't imagine how exhausting this must have been for him.

It was heart-wrenching to witness his struggle. Being in a relationship with someone like her must have been unbearable. He had made a big mistake by impregnating her and getting tied down to her forever. However, he could have simply walked away from the situation and left her with nothing. While I was doing my chores one day, I stumbled upon their marriage certificate and other documents that stated they had both agreed that she would not receive any of his possessions if he were to pass away. As his sole heir, everything would go to me.

It felt natural for them to have such an arrangement, but I couldn't comprehend why my Mother had agreed to it. After all, she was not one to make decisions based on logic. Perhaps she was a different person before I came along and ruin her, as she often mentions this when chatting with her friends on the phone. Those same friends who gossip behind her back.

My attention flicked back and forth between Hazel and the chemistry book, but nothing seemed to make sense. She was tugging at my sleeve, begging me to come play with her, while my brain was struggling to solve a mundane chemical equation. I wanted to snap at her to leave me alone, but I couldn't do that. Not only were the other mothers at the park already giving me sideways glances, assuming I was some reckless teenage girl who got knocked up, but it wasn't her fault. I was only fourteen years old and even though boys crossed my mind occasionally, I knew I couldn't afford the distraction of a relationship.

My Mother and sister were my main focus; I had no energy or attention left for anyone else. As a teenage girl, boys were not even on my radar, despite the fact that my high school was full of attractive ones. I quickly closed my chemistry book and shoved it into my bag before turning my full attention back to my little sister. People often mistook her for my daughter, which was both amusing and frustrating considering she was only 7 years younger than me. She must have looked very young for her age, or I must have aged horribly since I was constantly being nagged by my Mother, making me feel decades older than my actual age.

"What is it?" I asked her.

Usually, she was composed, but today she seemed to be losing control, and I felt helpless. Her silence was not unexpected; it reminded me of the times when my dad tried to understand my Mother's erratic behavior. My sister had always been a reflection of her, and I feared she would end up just like her. It was for the best if she didn't follow in our Mother's footsteps, though perhaps it was inevitable given our bloodline. Despite our efforts to resist it, we may have inherited her troubled tendencies.

"Let's go home; Mom will scold us," I told her, except I lied to her, and she knew it.

My Mother's anger was always directed at me, never my little sister. I could tell she had a soft spot for her, maybe because my sister possessed the same powers as her. I used to envy her, thinking she would never have to endure the same treatment as me. But I knew it was only a matter of time before my Mother's anger reached her too. And when that happened, I feared I wouldn't be able to protect her. My Mother may have spared her from physical abuse in the past, but that didn't mean she wouldn't face it in the future.

As I rose from the bench, I reached out my hand for her to hold onto. With my backpack on and hers in my left hand, we were ready to go. She didn't want to leave, but luckily my Mom called at that exact moment to check on our whereabouts. I had no choice but to tell her the truth; she could always tell when I was lying. Plus, this girl who I refer to as my sister is like Satan in human form and would have immediately caught on and called me out if I tried to deceive her.

My Mother requested to speak with Hazel, and I could hear her shouting in the background while my sister's face turned ashen. A mix of sadness and relief washed over me, but I maintained a neutral expression. On the ride back home, Hazel remained silent, and once we arrived, she followed all of my Mother's instructions obediently. However, it was clear that she was not impressed. My Mother called her into their bedroom, and I already knew what was about to occur, so I stepped in to intervene.

"It's my fault; I told her to take a break in the park; I wanted to admire the scenery some more," I told her, bracing myself for the coming beating.

But she refused to believe what I said. It was as if she didn't even hear me. She would go into a deep trance when she got like this, and it was impossible to reach her. She pushed me away from Hazel, then forcefully pulled my sister towards her by her long brown hair. The "best" outcome for Hazel was if Mother cut her hair short, but she never did. Instead, she made Hazel take off her jeans and lean against the edge of the bed while she grabbed a belt from the closet. As much as I wanted to look away and leave the room, she wouldn't let me.

At first, I thought she was just going to lightly tap her on the buttocks, but instead she struck with brutal force wherever she could grab. Even in her anger, she made sure to avoid hitting the face or any other visible areas such as the neck, wrists, or ankles. Her laughter was filled with a fiendish passion, while her victim's screams were like something straight out of hell. My stomach turned and I had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting.

After a while, she stopped and eventually went to meet up with her friends. I had to search online for tips on how to treat such injuries.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized it was time to leave for the day. Taking a few extra minutes, I organized my desk, ensuring that when I came back on Monday, it wouldn't be a chaotic mess.

With my belongings in hand, I double-checked to make sure I had the necessary papers to give to my boss's son. It was a task that I often enjoyed.

My boss's oldest son was not the most approachable person. He had a strikingly handsome appearance that made me feel extremely nervous around him.

Leaving the office and saying my farewells to those still inside, I couldn't help but notice that most of the superheroes were hard at work. I often daydreamed about what it would be like to have superpowers and fight against villains while saving innocent lives. In my imagination, these superheroes had a great sense of pride in their duties and accomplishments. However, there were a few bad apples among them that I couldn't ignore. Some were too full of themselves, while others seemed to take themselves far too seriously, which I found unappealing. It was true that not everyone possessed the qualities and resilience needed to be a superhero, but some seemed to exaggerate their abilities and successes.

I arrived at the parking lot and unlocked my car, a sleek red Arteon R-Line that I had purchased with my own hard-earned money from Inferno Knight. I had been immediately drawn to this car when I saw it in the showroom, and now, it seemed like a perfect fit for me and not just because of its bold color that matched my hair.

Typically, I blast my music to drown out the chaotic sounds of traffic, but today I chose to drive in silence. Surprisingly, for a Friday afternoon, the road was relatively calm and quiet.

I quickly pulled my car into the driveway, shocked to see that my sister's car was nowhere in sight. Hazel, who had been insistent on getting an Open Vectra C, rarely ever left the house. As I stood there confused, trying to figure out where her blue car could have gone, I remembered all the times she had begged me to buy this junk car and how I had caved in. But I had made the decision to buy it in order to alleviate any guilt I might feel for accepting her help.

I step out of my beloved VW and immediately feel the strain in my legs from wearing high heels all day. As soon as I enter the house, I toss my bag onto the nearby couch and kick off my shoes. The cold sensation of the wooden floor, followed by the cool tiles in the kitchen, is a welcome relief for my feet that have been cramped in stiletto shoes all day. Although I adore these shoes, I wish I didn't have to wear them as frequently.

I couldn't deny that the shoes were stunning and I enjoyed seeing my reflection in them, but they were still a huge inconvenience. Glancing inside the fridge, I confirmed my suspicion that there was nothing edible left. Hazel would have gone hungry if it weren't for me. I had assumed she would take care of grocery shopping, especially since I had bought her a car. At this point, I could have easily ordered take-out or gone out to eat, but the thought of dining alone in a restaurant made me reconsider. I scolded myself for still following my Mother's strict habits and obsessions, and didn't even notice when my sister entered the kitchen.

"Hey. I'm back," Hazel said, making my heart freeze on the spot

I always struggled to sense when someone was sneaking up on me, which is probably one of the reasons my Mother believed I wasn't cut out to be a superhero. "Cut out" being a much nicer term than what she actually said.

"What are you up to?" she asked as she came closer to me.

I leaned against the kitchen table, my eyes quickly scanning her figure. I was searching for any hint that would reveal her whereabouts. I didn't want to be a nosy older sister, but I couldn't help but wonder where she was going and who she was with. Not that she would have told me even if I asked; our recent arguments had only pushed us further apart, and it seemed like everyone in the neighborhood knew about our troubles. It was as if all the things we used to bond over had vanished into thin air.

Thankfully, she seemed unharmed, but I couldn't ignore the slight scent of masculine cologne lingering in the air. My curiosity was aroused, but I knew it was best not to ask any questions. In the past, I had spent countless hours browsing through men's fragrances in search of the perfect gift for my ex-boyfriend. I had become quite knowledgeable about the different scents available on the market. However, now I couldn't place this particular fragrance since I had been avoiding that aisle and wasn't familiar with new products. But it definitely smelled expensive.

"I was hoping to find a restaurant or at least figure out what I want for dinner, but I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for," I say, trying not to show my disappointment that she didn't mention her boyfriend. "Did you already eat?"

I steal a quick glance at her, realizing that she's not used to me initiating conversation after a long day of work. In the past, I would usually shut myself in my room and not come out until late into the night.

She shook her head, "No, I didn't have the opportunity. I was hoping you'd order something for us when you got back from work," she stated.

Disappointment washed over me as she replied. I was grateful for all that she had done for me and constantly made an effort to show her my appreciation. But lately, it seemed like she was taking advantage of me. That feeling had been lingering for a few months now and it made me feel used. Instead of confronting her, I decided to keep quiet and let it go. Another argument with her would have been too exhausting, especially on a Friday night. I didn't want to end the week on a bad note with her. After a brief pause, I hurried up to my room, grabbed my trusty black Converse shoes and snatched my car keys from the table.

"Then let's go get some KFC. What do you say? I asked, forcing a smile even though I wasn't feeling happy.

She smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. I couldn't help but wonder if I had interrupted her plans and put a damper on her day.

----- ♡ -----

I didn't realize how hungry I was until I tasted the chicken. Although it was far from a healthy habit, the savory taste of KFC chicken always lifted my mood.

I tried to engage my sister in conversation, asking about her day. However, her responses were short and lacking in detail, leading me to believe it was best not to press for more information.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had said or done something to upset her, but upon reflection, I couldn't think of any reason for her sudden change in behavior. Lost in my thoughts, I was snapped back to reality when I felt a vibration from my phone in my pocket.

I didn't expect any calls, especially not on a Friday night, so I hesitated to answer when my phone rang. But the caller seemed insistent, so I reluctantly picked up. My heart sank when I saw my boss's name displayed on the screen; Inferno Knight hardly ever contacted us outside of work hours, which made me fear that something must have gone wrong at the office.

"Is everything okay?, I hear my sister ask, looking at me over the top of her glasses.

I couldn't respond to her at the moment, especially with my boss speaking a mile a minute and me struggling to keep up. Feeling both shocked and disheartened, I ended the call shortly after. I needed a brief pause to gather my thoughts before explaining the situation to my sister

I hesitated before responding, choosing my words carefully. "Work has been a bit chaotic lately, and the police had to get involved," I said, leaving out the fact that I was the main suspect in the situation.

Hazel didn't press me for more information, and I didn't offer any either. It suddenly occurred to me that I may have forgotten to return my boss's business cards, causing me to feel the urgent need to go home right away.

Strangely enough, I found myself yearning for a moment of loneliness to better sort through my thoughts. It's odd because I've always craved a close group of friends to confide in.

As I glanced back at my sister, I saw that she had already devoured her meal, while I couldn't stomach a bite, anymore. Disappointed, I tossed my leftovers and we wordlessly made our way to the car in the nearby lot.