The house lay in a hush, every creak of its old bones amplified in the stillness of midnight. Lottie crouched at the top of the staircase, her fingers pressed lightly to the polished wood of the banister, knees tucked tight to her chest. Her breath moved in slow, measured slips, a quiet rhythm she clung to as the sounds from below drifted upward. From where she sat, just beyond the curve of the hallway, she could hear the soft, broken sobs threading through the walls, wrapping the night in a fragile, trembling tension.
Downstairs, Evelyn's voice cracked on a hiccupping breath. "I just… I can't anymore, Mom. I try so hard, and everyone… everyone just turns on me."
Lottie's fingers curled into her sleeves, nails biting faint crescents into her skin. Her pulse pounded sharp and fast, a drumbeat behind her ears, the kind of heartbeat that usually came before a fall or a revelation. She inched forward, the cool varnish of the floor chilling her knees, the faint scent of lavender polish wrapping around her like a thin, suffocating veil. Her phone trembled faintly in her grasp as she angled it just so, thumb hovering above the record button. A flicker of hesitation brushed through her, but it died as quickly as it came.
From the living room came the rustle of movement—Mother's voice, soft, syrupy, thick with concern, slipping through the walls like honey. "Oh, sweetheart… you've been under so much pressure. You're our golden girl, you always have been."
Evelyn's sob caught on a shaky inhale. "I just… I feel like no one sees how hard I work. The school, the friends, the expectations—" her voice hitched, twisting itself into a delicate knot of misery, "—and now even Lottie…"
Lottie's teeth pressed into her lower lip, a flicker of cold amusement sparking through the bitter tangle of her chest. The edge of a scoff tugged at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it down, cool and silent. She pressed record, the faint chime masked by the swell of Evelyn's next breathless confession.
"I swear, it was never supposed to be like this," Evelyn whispered, her words trembling on the cusp of collapse. "She just… misunderstands everything."
A soft murmur followed, their mother again—low, cooing reassurance, the kind Lottie hadn't heard directed her way in years. She could almost picture it: Evelyn cradled between their parents, Mother's arms tight around her, fingers smoothing back her hair in soothing strokes, Father's stiff hand settling in an awkward, grudging pat on her shoulder.
Lottie's throat tightened, a flicker of something raw and half-forgotten twisting under her ribs. Her fingers flexed against the phone, the plastic cool and familiar beneath her touch, grounding her even as old aches stirred like ghosts. She inhaled carefully through her nose, steadying the shallow hitch of her breath. Focus. This wasn't about old wounds, no matter how they scraped and ached. This was about leverage.
From her crouched position, she could just make out the faint gleam of the chandelier over the living room, the soft rise and fall of shadows dancing against the wall like flickering memories. Evelyn's voice dipped lower, catching on a new sob. "I just don't want her to hate me."
Oh, you poisonous little starlet, Lottie thought, eyes narrowing. The corner of her mouth tugged upward, the faintest hint of a smile curving her lips. Her shoulders relaxed fractionally, a small exhale softening the knot in her chest as she adjusted her grip on the phone. She slipped the device closer, steadying it as she zoomed in, catching the curve of Evelyn's hunched shoulders, the glimmer of tear-streaked cheeks beneath the low lighting.
Their father's voice cut through at last—cool, measured, laced with reluctant concern. "You need to be careful with your words, Evelyn. Stress or not, this chaos can't continue."
Evelyn sniffled, voice small and trembling. "I know. I know, Dad." Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers curling into the sleeves of her sweater, nails digging faint half-moons into soft fabric.
Lottie felt the pulse at her throat jump, a flicker of something sour curling under her tongue. She caught the delicate brush of her own breath as she exhaled, controlled, precise, as though even that could betray her presence. She shifted slightly, her knees brushing the cool floor, the slight chill seeping through the thin fabric of her pajama pants, sending a faint shiver dancing along her spine.
The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something sharper—like the clean bite of night air slipping in through the cracks of the old windows. Her shoulders pressed into the narrow banister, the varnished wood cool against her skin. Her fingers were cold where they wrapped around the phone, the weight of it grounding her, anchoring her to the moment.
Below, Evelyn's sobs softened, a quiet murmur threading between her parents' voices. Lottie's chest tightened, a knot pulling between her ribs. The ache was old, sharp, familiar—the sting of every dismissal, every half-glance, every moment she'd been left in the cold shadow of Evelyn's golden light. She drew in a careful breath, slow, steady, the cool air brushing against the heat that prickled faintly at the corners of her eyes.
Not tonight. She wouldn't drown in it tonight.
Instead, she watched.
Instead, she recorded.
The soft chime of her phone's notification barely registered as she saved the file, slipping it into the encrypted folder she'd prepared days ago. Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, the faint glow casting pale light across her fingers, before she tucked it away into the small, hidden pocket she'd sewn into the lining of her robe.
A faint sound drew her attention—a shift, a pause. Lottie froze, breath hitching in her throat, heart lurching sharp and sudden. Evelyn's voice was quieter now, a tremble hidden beneath the silk of her words.
"Did you hear something?"
Lottie's pulse raced, a sharp kick against her ribs. She slipped back, movements fluid, silent, the barest whisper of cloth against floorboards. Her breath came quick and light, the air cool and sharp as she eased herself away from the banister, melting into the shadows of the hallway.
Footsteps—soft, hesitant, brushing against the carpet.
She pressed herself into the narrow alcove just before her room, breath held tight behind her teeth. The cool wall pressed against her back, grounding and chilling all at once. A flicker of movement, the faintest shift of shadow across the hallway—and then Evelyn's silhouette, delicate, perfect, carved in the silver light of the moon through the window. Her gaze swept the darkness, sharp and searching, suspicion flickering across her face.
For a heartbeat, their eyes almost met—Lottie saw the tension ripple through Evelyn's shoulders, the faint narrowing of her eyes, the way her fingers clenched briefly at her sides before smoothing out again, a slow, measured exhale leaving her lips.
But Lottie was already stepping away, already disappearing into the dark, a faint smile curving at the edge of her mouth.
Let her wonder.
Back in her room, the door clicked shut with the softest whisper of sound. Lottie leaned against it for a moment, her forehead brushing the cool wood, her eyes slipping closed as she let the tight coil in her chest unwind by degrees. Her fingers still trembled faintly as she pulled the phone from her pocket, the small device warm against her palm.
The video played in near-silence, the faint glow lighting the dark room in pale gold. Evelyn's voice cracked through the speaker, soft and broken, a masterpiece of calculated vulnerability. Lottie watched the small screen, the flicker of shadows, the curve of her sister's downturned mouth, the shiver in her shoulders. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the ache in her chest sharp and tight.
She inhaled once, deeply, the scent of old paper and faint lavender drifting through her room, before she saved the file, tucking it into a folder marked only with a small, unobtrusive star. Her thumb lingered on the icon for a moment, the glow of the screen casting light across her fingertips.
As the last echoes of conversation faded downstairs, she slipped the hidden drive from its place in the hollow base of her lamp. Fingers moved with quick, practiced efficiency—plug in, transfer, encrypt, eject. The faint buzz of the drive in her hand was a quiet, satisfying promise. She set it carefully on the desk, the metal cool and solid beneath her fingers.
She crossed to the window, the faint chill of the glass seeping into her skin as she pressed her fingers lightly against it. Outside, the night stretched soft and dark, the moon a pale sliver against the black. Somewhere down below, Evelyn's voice floated up, a faint murmur that drifted through the cool night air, rising like smoke through the silence.
Lottie's reflection hovered faintly in the glass, a pale ghost layered over the world beyond. Her eyes glinted, sharp and sure, the faintest curl of a smile tugging at her mouth. Her fingertips brushed slowly down the pane, tracing invisible patterns in the cold.
In the dark hallway beyond her door, a shadow flickered past—the soft brush of bare feet on carpet, the whisper of movement too quiet for anyone else to notice. Lottie's head tilted slightly, the slow spread of her smile a quiet acknowledgment in the dark.
Let her wonder.
Let her watch.
Because this time, Lottie was the one holding the script.