Chapter 3 - The Point of No Return
The trigger happened on a Thursday afternoon.
Camila and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner. Ernest had imposed a strict 6:00 PM dinner time, and if the roast chicken wasn't carved and served on warm plates the second he walked through the front door, the entire house paid the price.
I was reaching for a spice jar on the upper shelf when my fingers slipped. A glass bottle of cracked black pepper tumbled down, shattering against the marble countertop and scattering fine grey powder across the polished white surface.
At that exact moment, the front door unlocked.
Ernest walked in, carrying his leather briefcase. He took off his shoes, set them neatly in the closet, and walked into the kitchen. He stopped instantly, his eyes fixing on the broken glass and pepper on the counter.
"What is this?" he asked softly.
"It was an accident, Ernest," I said, picking up a paper towel. "I'm cleaning it right now."
He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He simply walked over, grabbed my wrist with a grip like iron, and twisted my arm behind my back until I was forced down onto my knees over the broken glass.
"You're sloppy, Lucia," he whispered, leaning down close to my ear. "Just like your father was. Clumsy, slow, and arrogant."
"Let her go!" Camila screamed.
She didn't think. She grabbed a heavy brass candle holder from the dining table and lunged at him.
Ernest moved with shocking speed. He released my wrist, turned, and caught Camila's arm mid-swing. The force of his counter-strike drove her sideways into the edge of the kitchen island. Her ribs collided with the sharp marble overhang with a sickening, hollow crunch that made me choke on my own breath.
She collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, her face instantly turning pale.
"Camila!" I screamed, scrambling toward her across the glass-strewn floor.
Ernest stood over us, his chest rising and falling evenly. He reached up, unbuckled his heavy leather belt, and pulled it free from his pants loops with a sharp zip.
"Both of you," he said calmly. "Living room. Now."
My mother walked out of the study, holding a glass of white wine. She looked at Camila lying on the floor, looked at Ernest holding the belt, and then quietly turned around, walked back into the study, and shut the door.
That night was different.
In the past, Ernest maintained a terrifying level of restraint—hitting us enough to cause pain, but never enough to leave visible marks that couldn't be covered by clothing, never enough to require medical attention.
But that night, something inside him snapped.
He was furious that Camila had dared to raise an object against him. He dragged her by her hair into the center of the living room, throwing her down onto the Persian rug.
When he raised the belt, I didn't think about the Swiss server. I didn't think about the ninety days remaining until our eighteenth birthday. I didn't think about the old phone beneath the floorboard.
I threw my body completely over Camila, burying her head in my lap, taking the full, crushing force of the leather and brass across my back and shoulders.
"Protecting her won't save you, Lucia!" Ernest snarled, his voice finally breaking into a ragged, maniacal rage.
He struck us again and again. The brass buckle split the skin over my left shoulder blade. Pain, hot and blinding, erupted through my entire nervous system. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding Camila with every ounce of strength left in my heart, whispering into her hair over and over: "I'm here. I'm here. Don't let go."
Then came the final blow.
Ernest grabbed me by the collar of my sweater, lifting me off Camila, and hurled me sideways. My head struck the sharp, decorative wooden molding of the arched entryway.
May you like
The world went white. Sound faded into a high-pitched, metallic ringing.
The last thing I remembered before darkness swallowed me whole was the sound of my mother's muffled voice coming from the hallway: "Ernest... Ernest, stop! Look at their heads... they aren't moving. Oh god, Ernest, if they die here, the trust officers will conduct an autopsy!"
