The Girl Died in the Thicket of Flowers Chapter 2

I curled up on the cold floor, surrounded by piles of lilies.

My eyelids weighed a ton.

A bitter, icy sorrow spread through my chest.

Ever since I could remember, if I didn't care for my brother the exact way my mother wanted, she accused me of trying to harm him.

Then she locked me away.

This room was never a storage closet. It was my execution chamber.

Once, I saw Toby sweat in the summer heat and turned the air conditioner down one degree.

My mother caught me. She swore I was trying to freeze him to death so he would get a fever.

She turned this room into a walk-in freezer and locked me inside for three hours.

Another time, Toby was hungry after playing outside.

I used my pocket money to buy him a burger.

She found out and shrieked that I was feeding him trash to ruin his internal organs.

She fetched three pounds of rancid grease and forced me to swallow it in this room.

Every good thing I ever did for my brother was twisted into a cold, calculated crime.

Endless grief and the agony of the allergic reaction viciously attacked my organs.

Toby responded to Brenda, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.

"Mrs. Davidson! Please save Anna! Mom put a hundred pounds of flowers in that room!"

Brenda gasped. She stared at my mother in utter horror.

"Victoria, are you insane? Don't you know Anna is severely allergic to pollen?"

My mother just sneered.

"What? First you try to steal my husband, and now you want to steal my daughter?"

Brenda swallowed her rage, refusing to play her games.

"I'm not arguing about your delusional fantasies. Give me the key. Open that door now!"

A malicious glint flashed in my mother's eyes.

She pulled the key out and dangled it in Brenda's face.

"You want it?"

Before Brenda could grab it, she spun around, ran into the bathroom, and flushed the key down the toilet.

Toby rushed after her like a crazy person.

He didn't hesitate. He thrust his bare hand into the toilet bowl, digging wildly into the pipe.

The rough porcelain scraped his skin.

Clear water turned a terrifying, bright red with his blood.

My mother rushed forward and yanked him up by his arm.

She shrieked at him, but her eyes welled with panic and pity.

"What are you doing? Do you want to get an infection?"

Toby stared at her, tears spilling over his cheeks.

"Mom, you see me bleeding and it breaks your heart. You worry that I'm hurting.

"Why don't you care that Anna is hurting inside that room?"

She snapped without missing a beat.

"She deserves the pain! She's a vicious monster who always tries to ruin you!"

I lay frozen on the floor. My heart felt torn to pieces. Every shallow breath was agony.

My lips twitched weakly.

Toby... Mrs. Davidson... stop trying to save me...

No sound escaped my throat.

Brenda refused to give up. She tried to step around my mother to search for a spare key.

My mother spread her arms wide, blocking the hallway, refusing to yield an inch.

Taking advantage of their clash, Toby pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

He hung up and ran back to press his face against the door.

"Don't be scared, Anna! I called Dad!

"Dad is rushing home. When he gets here, he'll open the door and save you!"

"I'm so sorry, Anna... It's all my fault... If I hadn't asked for takeout..."

His eyes were bloodshot. Tears splashed onto the floor.

I summoned every last drop of strength to raise my hand toward the door to comfort him.

My heavy eyelids finally gave out. Everything went pitch black.

My body felt light, floating away from the ground.

Then, my mother's sharp, hysterical screech broke through the haze one last time.

"Anna! You want me to let you out? Scream that Brenda is a whore! Scream it out loud, and I'll open the door right now!"

My consciousness faded, but one thought remained crystal clear.

Brenda was not a whore.

When my mother starved me as punishment, Brenda secretly snuck food into my hands.

When my mother stripped me naked and threw me outside because I forgot to grab Toby's coat, Brenda took my freezing body into her home, wrapped me in warm blankets, and held me.

Seeing my total silence, my mother's rage boiled over. She raised her hand to slap Brenda across the face.

A large, powerful hand caught her wrist in midair.

Our father, Richard Miller, was home.

He stared at his wife, his brows furrowed in pure fury.

"Victoria, have you lost your mind?!”