Chapter 113 Past Confession to him_Part 1

Knowing that she would never be able to stop herself from hurting herself in one way or another now that there was a big possibility her sister might not be all right, she blindly got up from the sofa. She walked around the house like an aimless ghost, just so she wouldn’t think, just so she could be numb, and she found the easiest way to do so.

Her legs carried her to the built-in glass-front wine cooler, where there were various kinds of wine stored in the built-in refrigerator with clean, clear glass that gave anyone a tempting view and a wide range of choices from the expensive bottles arranged neatly in order.

She slid the glass door aside, and immediately a stream of cold air escaped, washing over her face. Viola’s trembling, bleeding hand reached out for one bottle from the set and pulled it out.

She didn’t even bother to find a glass to pour the wine into. She opened it and lifted the bottle straight to her mouth. She wanted the numbness and oblivion that came with drinking. She had once loved drinking herself into nothingness; even as a teenager, she had been wild, partying as if her life depended on it, drinking just to forget her own evil deeds toward a sister who had given her everything.

But for four years now, she hadn’t tasted wine, and the familiar sweetness mixed with the slight, barely noticeable burn sliding down her throat gave her a reckless thrill. When she had first noticed this wine space, she had sworn she wouldn’t touch any of the drinks because they were far too expensive, but now she didn’t care. She gulped it down greedily, letting it pour down her throat without restraint.

Viola grew frustrated when, even after drinking a generous amount, she didn’t feel that welcoming numbness. She decided maybe it needed more time to settle in and dull her senses.

She walked slightly unsteadily toward the piano in the living room, something she had come to consider her only companion in this big house, and sat down on the bench. She ran her fingers gently over the smooth surface before pressing a key, the sound echoing softly through the large, quiet space.

Before she could stop herself, her fingers began to create a very melancholic symphony, its familiar sound wrapping around her like a warm yet sorrowful blanket that made her feel even more empty, more alone, and consumed by nothing but loathing, for no one else but herself.

“I betrayed you, Ivy…” she whispered brokenly, her heart feeling as though it were being squeezed tightly inside her chest, cracking apart. Before she had even known what love was, Ivy had given it to her freely, but she had been nothing more than a selfish person who turned a blind eye to it because she wanted to soar high, higher than her fragile wings could ever truly carry her.

But those wings had broken along the way, sending her crashing back down, shattering her illusions and forcing her to see what a terrible person she had been to her only blood relative.

She continued to play the piano, filling the living room with nothing but the haunting sounds of a sorrowful melody. Somewhere along the way, Viola began to sing the lyrics of a song she had heard a month ago, her voice growing shaky and fragile.

Memories from her past played in her mind like a broken record. Many people don’t remember scenes from when they were babies; some don’t even recall their toddler years. But Viola held memories far beyond what seemed natural. She recalled one from when she had been nothing but an infant wrapped in a towel.

She had seen a woman with blue eyes looking down at her and her sister, smiling through tears of joy, like they were a happy gift to her. But that memory was soon replaced by another, of that same woman rejecting them because she believed that one of them would bring nothing but disaster.

’It’s coming from this one,’ a voice had said, and the blue-eyed woman had been looking at Viola, not Ivy, her once joyful expression turning bitter as her gaze fixed on her.

The memory had stayed with her for as long as she could remember, and Viola knew the woman must have been their birth mother. She had given them away, telling the person who took them, ’Keep them away from me, even if you have to kill them. One of them is the cursed one. Make sure she never succeeds.’

Those same cruel words had been written on the note that came with them when they were delivered to the orphanage. The people there naturally assumed she was the problem, the cursed one, because unlike Ivy, Viola had been a hellcat, a very stubborn girl, with trouble following her like a second skin from childhood.

That was why she was hunted by nightmares of people calling her the cursed one, even Ivy in her dreams, but Viola knew that if a knife were ever placed against her sister’s throat and she was forced to say it, Ivy would never do so. She would never call her the cursed one.

Ivy was the good girl. She was everyone’s favorite. That was why, when the Lindens came to adopt a child, the people at the orphanage chose her over Viola, whom they claimed should never be allowed to step out into the world. Why? She never knew. But that only made her feel unwanted. It only made her grow into a bitter and heartless little child, who believed if she didn’t make a way for herself, she would never get to leave that orphanage where everyone called her cursed.

As a little girl, she had already known how to lie and put others in trouble in order to save herself. She had watched Ivy take punishment for her, and Viola had never stepped in to admit that it was her fault.

A bitter smile graced her face as she recalled a scene of her twin sister stroking her hair. Just minutes earlier, Ivy had been beaten for Viola’s crime, yet her sister would still smile and tell her,

’It doesn’t hurt, Serena. I am already used to it, and I will never get tired of taking the beating for you. Here, eat more.’ Ivy would push her plate of food in front of her while she herself suffered from the pain in her back, where she had been whipped for Viola’s crime. And instead of consoling her sister, Viola would thoughtlessly eat the food and enjoy every bite, refusing to let herself feel guilty because it had been Ivy’s decision to take the punishment in her place.

Thinking about it now, she realized that perhaps everyone in the orphanage had been right. She was indeed cursed, the villain who deserved nothing but pain, while her sister should have been the one to receive everything good for having such a pure heart. Evil people like Viola were meant to live in hell after destroying others life. Wasn’t that the fate of every villain in every story? She had already had a taste of her own version of hell.