Elsa rushed out as soon as she noticed my parents had returned.
She hastily ended her phone call and ran into their arms, her voice soft and sweet, dripping with false concern.
“Mom, Dad, what’s wrong? You must be angry with Jenifer again, right?”
But before she could finish her sentence, my father grabbed her by the neck, his voice shaking with fury.
“You’re still lying to us! You killed Jenifer–and you dare to pretend like nothing happened!”
My mother struck her back with clenched fists, sobbing with heartbreak and rage.
“How could you treat her like that? We gave you everything! All our love, all our trust–for years!”
Elsa gasped, struggling to breathe under my father’s grip. When he finally released her, she fell to the floor, coughing and crying with forced innocence.
“I–It must’ve been Jenifer again! She always framed me, you know that! She was always playing tricks to turn you against me!”
“You still refuse to admit the truth!” my father roared.
He dragged her into the living room and shoved the small camera into her shaking hands.
“Watch it. Watch what you did!”
Her fingers trembled violently as she pressed play.
And then, as the scenes played before her eyes, her face turned white as snow.
She dropped to her knees, pleading in a broken voice.
