They Chose the Impostor Over Me - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading They Chose the Impostor Over Me, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of They Chose the Impostor Over Me.
The moment she wrapped me in that crushing hug, her fingers dug into my fresh wounds as she hissed in my ear, "You filthy whore. After letting thousands of men ride you, you still dare show your face here? I'd have killed myself from shame by now."
The emotional agony eclipsed my physical pain, freezing me in place. So it was her all along. "Why?" My voice broke. "Why would you—"
I shoved her away, rage boiling up, but she'd anticipated this. With dramatic flair, Renata threw herself backward, her skull cracking against the stone steps. Blood instantly stained her blonde hair crimson.
"Renesmee!" she wailed, tears mixing with blood as it dripped onto her pristine white dress. "After a whole year, you still hate me this much?"
My brother Reagan charged between us. "You vicious bitch!" He kicked me aside and scooped Renata up. As he carried her toward the living room, she peeked over his shoulder at me, mouthing "You're getting kicked out today" with a triumphant smirk before dissolving into theatrical sobs.
By the time our parents arrived, the three of them were fussing over Renata like she was made of glass. Only when Reagan accused me did they notice me standing in the doorway.
"Please don't blame Renesmee," Renata sniffled between fake cries. "The training center must have been so hard for her... all those rules... it's natural she'd resent me..."
Father's face darkened like a thundercloud. He crossed the room in three strides and backhanded me so hard my vision whited out. "A year of discipline and you're still this monstrous? Attacking your own sister?"
The blow sent me staggering, but what followed was worse. At the word "rules," my body moved on its own - knees hitting the floor, forehead pressed to the ground. "I'm sorry! Please, no punishment! I'll be good!"
After what they'd done to me at that hellhole, a slap meant nothing. They'd long since beaten all pride out of me. Father seemed startled by my groveling until Reagan yanked me upright.
"Enough with the act," he sneered. "We're having a welcome dinner. Try not to ruin this too."
At the lavishly set table, Mother gasped. "Renesmee, you're skin and bones!" Her hand fluttered toward the feast - roast chicken, buttery potatoes, glazed vegetables - but I kept my eyes locked on the sad salad in front of me.
I wasn't being picky. I'd learned the hard way that good food came with worse punishments. For a year, I'd survived on maggoty scraps, fighting for table scraps like a dog. Once, when I'd lunged for a discarded drumstick, they'd tied me spread-eagle under the table and... I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory.
"Sweetheart, eat!" Mother pushed the golden-brown chicken toward me. The sight triggered something primal - I scrambled under the table, arms shielding my head. "No! I won't touch it! Don't tie me up again!"
My family's shocked silence said everything. Whatever they'd sent me away to become, I'd come back broken.
The emotional agony eclipsed my physical pain, freezing me in place. So it was her all along. "Why?" My voice broke. "Why would you—"
I shoved her away, rage boiling up, but she'd anticipated this. With dramatic flair, Renata threw herself backward, her skull cracking against the stone steps. Blood instantly stained her blonde hair crimson.
"Renesmee!" she wailed, tears mixing with blood as it dripped onto her pristine white dress. "After a whole year, you still hate me this much?"
My brother Reagan charged between us. "You vicious bitch!" He kicked me aside and scooped Renata up. As he carried her toward the living room, she peeked over his shoulder at me, mouthing "You're getting kicked out today" with a triumphant smirk before dissolving into theatrical sobs.
By the time our parents arrived, the three of them were fussing over Renata like she was made of glass. Only when Reagan accused me did they notice me standing in the doorway.
"Please don't blame Renesmee," Renata sniffled between fake cries. "The training center must have been so hard for her... all those rules... it's natural she'd resent me..."
Father's face darkened like a thundercloud. He crossed the room in three strides and backhanded me so hard my vision whited out. "A year of discipline and you're still this monstrous? Attacking your own sister?"
The blow sent me staggering, but what followed was worse. At the word "rules," my body moved on its own - knees hitting the floor, forehead pressed to the ground. "I'm sorry! Please, no punishment! I'll be good!"
After what they'd done to me at that hellhole, a slap meant nothing. They'd long since beaten all pride out of me. Father seemed startled by my groveling until Reagan yanked me upright.
"Enough with the act," he sneered. "We're having a welcome dinner. Try not to ruin this too."
At the lavishly set table, Mother gasped. "Renesmee, you're skin and bones!" Her hand fluttered toward the feast - roast chicken, buttery potatoes, glazed vegetables - but I kept my eyes locked on the sad salad in front of me.
I wasn't being picky. I'd learned the hard way that good food came with worse punishments. For a year, I'd survived on maggoty scraps, fighting for table scraps like a dog. Once, when I'd lunged for a discarded drumstick, they'd tied me spread-eagle under the table and... I squeezed my eyes shut against the memory.
"Sweetheart, eat!" Mother pushed the golden-brown chicken toward me. The sight triggered something primal - I scrambled under the table, arms shielding my head. "No! I won't touch it! Don't tie me up again!"
My family's shocked silence said everything. Whatever they'd sent me away to become, I'd come back broken.
End of They Chose the Impostor Over Me Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to They Chose the Impostor Over Me book page.