I Was the Family Scapegoat Chapter 08

I Was the Family Scapegoat Chapter 08

The screaming from the basement had gone on for three days.

Dominic stood outside the door, lit a cigarette, listening to the cries and pleas leaking through.

Vanessa’s voice had given out long ago-nothing left but broken whimpers. Her father her real father had died on the second night They dragged his body out and fed it to the dogs.

“Boss.” A guard approached, voice low. “The woman’s fading. You want us to

“Keep going.”

Dominic crushed out the cigarette and headed upstairs.

“Keep her alive. Don’t let her die yet.”

He ran into Ethan in the hallway.

Hollow eyes. Stubble everywhere. He looked like he’d aged ten years.

“How’s Father?” Dominic asked.

Ethan shook his head. Voice raw. “Doctor says it’s a massive heart attack. Doesn’t look good.”

Father had collapsed the night they learned the truth.

He just sat there like his soul had left his body. Didn’t say a word. Stared into nothing, tears running down his face in silence.

The next morning, the servants found him on the floor of his study, clutching an old photo of Rosalie as a little girl.

“He kept saying her name.” Ethan leaned against the wall, voice scraped thin. “All night long.”

Dominic said nothing.

What was there to say?

They brought this on themselves.

“What about Arlene?” Dominic suddenly asked.

Ethan’s face darkened.

In her room. Been crying all day. Keeps screaming for Vanessa. For Mommy…”

They locked eyes and bolted upstairs.

The second Dominic pushed open the door, his heart dropped.

Arlene was curled in the corner of the bed, face flushed red, body convulsing, lips turning purple

“Mommy… I want Mommy… Her voice was thin and shrill, like a terrified animal Mommy Vanessa.

where are you

“Arlene! Dominic rushed over and scooped her up. “ARLENE!!

The little body seized in his arms. Eyes rolling back. Foam at her mouth.

“Call an ambulance!!” Ethan shouted behind him. “CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!!

Dominic held her tight, hands shaking.

This was Rosalie’s only child. The baby she’d risked her life to bring into the world.

She could not die.

She could NOT.

Outside the ER.

Dominic paced the hallway, burning through cigarette after cigarette.

Three hours later, the doctor finally came out. His expression was grim.

“She’s stable for now, but…” He paused. “We found traces of hallucinogenic drugs in her bloodstream. Long-term exposure.”

Dominic’s pupils contracted.

“What does that mean?”

“Someone’s been injecting her with psychotropic drugs.” The doctor sighed. “At least three years. These substances alter a child’s cognition and emotional judgment-create intense dependency and obedience toward specific individuals…”

Dominic couldn’t hear anything anymore.

He thought of the birthday party. Arlene throwing herself into Vanessa’s arms, calling her Mommy.

He thought of her standing over Rosalie’s bleeding body, screaming dirty woman, stupid whore.

Those weren’t words a child picked up.

They were injected. One needle at a time.

I’M GONNA KILL HER!!”

Dominic spun toward the exit, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging.

“Dominic! Ethan grabbed him. “She’s dead! Just now she’s gone!”

Dominic froze.

Feet rooted to the floor. Couldn’t move.

‘Dead… he muttered, voice hollow. “She’s dead…”

Ethan said nothing. Just let go, slid down the wall, and sank to the floor.

Vanessa was dead. So who was left to take revenge on?

The days that followed were a nightmare that never ended.

Arlene was sent to a rehabilitation facility. The withdrawal hit her hard-screaming, convulsing, begging for it to stop.

Ethan’s mind started to crack.

He locked himself in his room, staring at the walls for hours, muttering the same name over and over.

“Rosalie… baby sister…”

He remembered when they were kids. Rosalie fell and scraped her knee, came to him crying. He knelt down and blew on the wound. It’s okay, it’s okay. Big brother’s here.

She stopped crying instantly, threw her arms around his neck. You’re the best, big brother!

Then the image shifted. She was standing on the windowsill, covered in blood, smiling at them-

“I will never forgive you.”

Then she jumped.

“АНН-!”

Ethan shot up from the nightmare, drenched in cold sweat.

His shaking hand reached under the pillow and pulled out the revolver-the one Rosalie used.

Dried blood still clung to the barrel.

He pressed the muzzle to his temple. Closed his eyes. Tears slid down in silence.

“Rosalie, I’m sorry.”

BANG-

Twenty years later.

Seattle cemetery. Bright sunshine.

A young woman stood before a row of headstones, holding white roses.

She was twenty-five now. Same eyes as Rosalie. Same face.

Rosalie Moretti

1995 – 2024

“May your next life know no storms.”

Beside it, three more graves. Grandfather. Uncle. Father.

Dominic held on for twenty years.

He brought Arlene home from the facility. Stayed with her through treatment. Sent her to school. Watched her heal, little by little.

Until last winter.

One morning, the servants found him sitting at Rosalie’s grave, leaning against the headstone, like he was only sleeping.

A yellowed photo still clutched in his hand.

Young Rosalie in a white dress. Eyes curved with laughter.

“Mom.

Arlene knelt at the grave, pressing her cheek to the cold stone.

‘I miss you.”

Before Dad passed, he kept calling your name. He said the biggest regret of his life was not believing you.”

‘Uncle too. Grandpa too.”

‘They’re all gone now. It’s just me.”

Tears slid down, dripping onto the stone.

“Mom, I’m going to live. Really live.”

For you. For them. For all of us.”

She stood up. Took one last look at the row of headstones.

A breeze swept through, lifting a scatter of petals.

Like a hand, gently brushing her cheek.