My steps faltered, and I turned back to look at Dexter.


    “I don’t remember ever having a dog…”


    I was lying through my teeth.


    Dexter looked taken aback for a second before he swiftly changed the subject. “Phoebe, if you don’t


    remember, then let it go. It’s not worth dwelling on, and it’s not exactly a fond memory.”


    I stepped into my room and quickly shut the door before Dexter could follow.


    nat


    Leaning against the door, I pulled out my phone, determined to log into ount. I knew my parents had


    maintained a social media profile to chronicle my upbringing.


    “Phoebe…” Dexter’s voice didn’t fade from the other side of the


    voor He


    ed like he had a world of


    things to say.


    But I really didn’t want to hear it.


    “Phoebe, I’m sorry, I know it’s toote for words now, but I…”


    “Mr. Fitzgerald, Miss Melody took a nasty fall from the attic, looks pretty bad.”


    Dexter hadn’t even finished, and Melody had pulled one of her stunts. Her way of vying for attention


    was nothing short of juvenile.


    Sure enough, Dexter’s concern shifted to Melody.


    Busy man indeed.


    I couldn’t help but find amusement in how he scurried about for Melody, dancing to her tune without a


    second thought.


    I was itching to see the look on Dexter’s face when he’d find out that it wasn’t Melody, but Phoebe who


    had saved him back then.


    Years ago, it was I who had distracted the kidnappers, but when Dexter came to, it was Melody he saw


    I had been discovered by the kidnappers and was knocked out cold,nding me in the hospital for


    days. By the time I came to, Dexter and Melody were an item.


    What a joke. Back then, I was naive enough to take it hard for quite a while.


    Logging into the ount, I sprawled on my bed, scrolling through the posts.


    From day one of my life, my parents documented my life.


    “Our little princess has arrived.” On the day of my birth, the photo they posted featured four of us:


    myself, my parents, and Damian.


    And the person holding me was Damian. Despite his smile, he looked downright eerie, giving me the


    chills


    just looking at him.


    “Our little princess is a prodigy, walking so young.” And there Damian was again, lurking in the


    background. My parents seemed overlyfortable leaving me alone with Damian.


    10:52


    “Phoebe doesn’t smile much, not even for Dad’s antics. Doctor says she might be on the autism


    spectrum, Damian thinks it’s just a personality mismatch.”


    “No matter what, we’re in this together. We won’t give up on Phoebe


    “Phoebe’s one now, and the therapy seems to be working. No developmental dys, normal


    intelligence, but her personality is… off.”


    “Phoebe, age two, decided to feed the goldfish to the cat today.”


    “Phoebe’s behavior is getting stranger. Today in the bathroom, there was blood everywhere. She’s only


    two and had used a paring knife to kill a snake.” That post’s photo showed just me, but I could see a


    foot in the doorway. It was Damian’s, confirming he was there.


    1 sifted through the records, picking out the anomalies.


    A two–year–old killing a snake? Quite the fearless tot.


    “Damian came by today; he says he’s quite fond of Phoebe.”


    From what I could tell, every time there was an incident with me before the age of five, Damian was


    present.


    Coincidence?


    I tried to keep reading, but a wave of dizziness washed over me.


    An odd fragrance filled the room, heady and disorienting.


    Thankfully, having been exposed to my fair share of underhanded tricks, I had developed a bit of


    resistance.


    Property belongs to N?vel(D)r/ama.Org.


    I managed to stuff the aromatic diffuser on my bedside table with some tissues.


    After shaking my head to clear it, Iy down and pretended to sleep.


    “Miss, dinner is ready,” the housekeeper called from beyond the door.


    Silence was my only response.


    “Miss?”


    The sound from outside ceased.


    Not long after, the housekeeper returned. “Miss, it’s time for dinner.”


    Still, I didn’t make a sound.


    Once again, she left. Before long, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the Fitzgerald family’s


    driveway.


    I got up and peeked out the window. Sure enough, a car had parked, and out stepped Damian.


    Instinctively, my grip tightened on the curtain, hiding behind it.


    Damian was back.


    Had Dexter sent for him? On the surface, he seemed to be repenting, but was he actually conspiring


    with Damian to erase my memories?


    “Miss, it’s time for dinner,” the housekeeper called out again after a while.