Chapter 1

The cheap cotton of Jessica’s old t-shirt felt rough against Sarah’s skin. It was faded, a cartoon character she didn't recognize grinning inanely from the front. Brenda, her mother, saw it. Her face, usually set in a frown when she looked at Sarah, tightened into something uglier. “What do you think you’re doing, wearing that?” Brenda’s voice was low, but it cut through the morning kitchen sounds. Mark, Sarah’s father, looked up from his newspaper, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looked away. Jessica and Emily, her half-sisters, giggled from the breakfast table, their spoons clinking against cereal bowls. “It was in the donation pile,” Sarah mumbled, her gaze fixed on the worn linoleum floor. “I thought…” “You thought?” Brenda stepped closer. “You don’t think. You’re not allowed to think.” The slap came fast, a crack that echoed in the small kitchen. Sarah’s cheek stung, hot and immediate. “Go upstairs. Take it off. Now.” Sarah fled, tears blurring her vision. This was normal. This was her life. She was twenty, but she felt like a child, a very bad child. She knew she was their biological daughter, the birth certificate said so, she even had Mark’s nose and Brenda’s sharp chin, but it didn’t make sense. Brenda doted on Jessica and Emily, Mark’s daughters with another woman, Dr. Reed. They got new clothes, praise, affection. Sarah got this. She must have been a mistake, a cuckoo in the nest, the result of some forgotten, shameful affair. Later that day, Mark cornered her in the hallway. He used to be kind, used to slip her a few dollars, tell her stories. But that was before. Before Brenda started whispering to him. Now, his eyes were cold. “Your mother is right,” he said, his voice flat. “You need to learn respect.” He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in. “You cause too much trouble.” The words were like stones. Brenda had been talking to him again, that soft, sibilant whisper that changed everything. Sarah had seen it happen. Brenda would lean in, murmur something, and the kindness in people’s eyes would curdle, replaced by suspicion, then anger, then disgust. All directed at Sarah. Jessica and Emily skipped past them then, their laughter bright and cruel. “Daddy, can we go for ice cream?” Jessica asked, ignoring Sarah completely. Mark’s face softened instantly. “Of course, sweetie. Anything for my girls.” He let go of Sarah’s arm, shoving her slightly towards the stairs. Sarah watched them go, a familiar ache in her chest. She was the outsider, the unwanted. The whisper, whatever it was, made sure of it.