Chapter Title: A Coward For A Brother
Notice..
This is a work of fiction. It should be noted that event and characters are not real so if some situation and statement feel real then it all purely coincidental .
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Another psychiatrist added, "This disorder often forms due to prolonged trauma. To cope, the mind splits into different 'alters' or personalities, each taking control to handle emotions the main identity cannot."
One of the men whispered, "So… she's not acting?"
"No," the psychiatrist confirmed. "She's fractured. The real Annalisa is buried underneath layers of trauma. The angry one, the quiet one, the child, the vengeful one… they're all her. And none of them know how to let go."
Silence fell over the room. In the corner, Annalisa licked chocolate off her fingers and began to hum an eerie lullaby one no one recognized. Her eyes were distant, her smile far too calm to be sane.
The leader, who had once accused her of faking it all, now stared at her with something that looked a lot like regret.
The girl they captured wasn't a threat. She was a ticking time bomb built from pain, splintered by suffering, and pieced together with rage.
But no one noticed the slight smirk tugging at the corner of Annalisa's lips as she caught a glimpse of the leader's expression. They fell for it. Every single one of them. That was their mistake.
As they all exited the room one by one, thinking they'd won she stood and walked toward the small balcony, and looked out at the fading sky.
A devilish smirk spread across her face.The act was over and now the plan had begun.
---
Five Years Later…
Time flew five whole years vanished like vapor in the wind. Annalisa had been locked inside the asylum all that time.
She was thoroughly sedated, her every movement was watched and controlled. Forced to take medications she didn't need. But that was exactly what she wanted.
For five years, she had gathered everything she needed. Every face. Every weakness. Every dirty secret. Every name on her list.
Now… there was no longer a reason to stay.
She lay flat on the thin mattress, unmoving. If not for the slow rise and fall of her chest, she might've passed for a corpse.
Then the click sound of her door unlocking echoed through the dim room.
She heard it. But she didn't even blink. Her gaze remained glued to the ceiling.
A voice broke the silence. "Lady Laurel?"
Her brows furrowed. She slowly turned her head. A man she didn't recognize stood in the doorway, stiff and serious.
She sat up, with eyes cold. "Speak. I'm listening."
"I was sent by Master Liam. He..."
"I thought he was dead," she interrupted, her voice sharp like shattered glass echoing through the cold room.
The man hesitated, then muttered, "He escaped."
That! was what broke her. A low, bitter laugh escaped her lips. So he ran... and left the rest to die? Some family she once had.
Her eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, gaze locked on him like a predator cornering prey.
"Why is Liam looking for me after five years of silence?" she asked coolly. "What's his deal?"
"He says… he needs your help," the man replied, voice tight, jaw clenched.
She didn't miss the way he looked at her, like asking a woman for help was beneath him. She could smell the disdain. The subtle sexism. The unwillingness in his tone.
It amused her.
Annalisa rose from the bed, slow and deliberate, like a shadow uncoiling. Her long, tangled hair spilled over her shoulders like dark silk. Her face held no emotion only a cold, unreadable calm that made the man take an instinctive step back.
She stood toe to toe with him, then tilted her head slightly, lips curving in a sharp smile.
"And why," she asked, her voice smooth as poison, "should I help him?"
"Because… he's your brother," the man stuttered, clearly shrinking under the weight of Annalisa's presence.
She could see it, the discomfort in his eyes, the pride he was swallowing just to stand in that room with her. Every word he spoke looked like it wounded his ego. But he was desperate. Liam was deteriorating fast. The guilt of abandoning his people was eating away at him, accelerating his decline. Pride had no place anymore. Annalisa was their last hope and he hated that.
"That's where you're wrong," she snapped. "He's an adoptive son."Her voice cut through the air like a blade.
"If he were truly my brother… he would've saved our sister. Where was he when we were fighting for our lives? When we were being torn apart, humiliated, and destroyed?" Her voice rose with each word, a storm gathering strength.
"He hid for his safety only. He ran. Like a coward."
She stepped closer, her eyes glowing with unfiltered rage. "But now that he needs help, he suddenly remembers this sacred thing called 'siblinghood'? Now he needs help, suddenly family matters?"
She laughed bitterly.
"What if I had died that day?" Her eyes bore into his. "Would he have come to hell and asked me for help then too?"
The man said nothing. Because there was nothing to say.
"That's right," she hissed, a cruel smirk tugging at her lips. "You've got nothing to say, because the truth burns, doesn't it?"
The man clenched his fists. "You can't be this ruthless… not when you hold the key to saving his life."
Ruthless?
That word struck her like a slap. Her gaze darkened. In the blink of an eye, she stormed forward and slammed her boot into his chest, sending him hurtling backward like a ragdoll. He hit the wall with a thud and collapsed to the floor, coughing.
She stood over him, calm and composed.
"You dare call me ruthless," she said coldly, "but where was your master when our lives were hanging by a thread?"
To Be Continued