THE RETURN OF THE FORGOTTEN

AMALIA'S POV

Sighing, I signed the last document on my desk, my hand trembling with exhaustion. As I leaned back in my chair, I pulled off my glasses, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The weight of the day pressed down on me, heavier than usual.

I need vodka

When I was 15, I managed to do the impossible-well not really impossible-I got a house. Not just for myself but for my twin sister, Aurora. I pulled her out of the orphanage she'd been stuck in. Don't ask me how I managed it. Let's just say desperation makes you capable of extraordinary things.

It was supposed to be a fresh start for both of us. A chance to finally have a place we could call home.

I wish

Aurora hates me now. I think it all started when we were little-six, maybe seven. We were both supposed to be adopted together, or at least that's what we thought. But only one of us was chosen. And that one was me.

As much as I hate to admit it, a part of me was relieved. I was glad I got adopted, glad I had a way out. But that relief was short-lived. It took exactly one week and four days before my adoptive parents' true colors began to show.

The house they brought me to was everything I thought I wanted. Big, cozy-looking, with a perfect picket fence and neatly trimmed hedges. The kind of place a kid dreams of growing up in. I thought Aurora would be there when she gets discharged, and we'd finally have the home we'd always longed for.

But Aurora couldn't come right away. She was in the hospital, as she often was, battling an endless string of illnesses that left her frail and tired. She needed care-constant care.

At first, I begged my adoptive parents to take her in, to let her join us. But somewhere along the line, my desperation twisted into fear. Fear of what bringing Aurora would mean. Fear what trauma she'd have to deal with if she came with us.

So I said the words I've regretted every day since. I told them not to take her. I argued she'd be a burden, that she'd leave them broke. I was protecting her, sparing her from the hell I'd come to realize I was living in.

I'm still protecting her

But I was wrong. Aurora heard me. She heard every word, and it shattered something between us that I've never been able to repair.

Since then, she's shut me out completely. Any attempt I make to reach her is met with icy silence or sharp words. She only talks to me when she wants to hurl something hurtful my way, and even then, it feels like she's speaking to a stranger.

I still try, though. I've been to every one of her dance competitions, sneaking into practices when I can. I'd visit her in the hospital late at night, slipping out of the house when my adoptive parents were asleep. I sat by her bed, watched over her as she slept, hoping she'd somehow feel that I was there.

But she never knew.

A sudden slam jolted me out of my thoughts. The sharp crack of the front door echoed through the house, and I knew she was back.

Aurora.

I pushed myself out of the chair and made my way to the kitchen. She was there, rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place-which, in a way, she did.

Most of my houses are under her name.

"Hi, Rora," I said softly, my voice carrying more hope than I meant it to. I tried to smile, though it felt like an uphill battle.

She didn't even look at me. Instead, she scoffed, slamming the fridge shut. "It's Aurora to you," she snapped, her tone colder than the winter wind.

Okay then

I sighed, the weight of her words pressing into my chest like a dull blade. Another day, another broken interaction.

I turned away, leaning against the counter as I heard her footsteps retreat. This was our pattern now, a loop of strained silences and fractured words.

And yet, I couldn't bring myself to stop trying.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

"Where the hell have you been!?" My adoptive father's voice thundered through the house as I stepped inside, my heart immediately sinking.

I'm fucked.

"I-I..." The words caught in my throat, useless and pathetic.

They always did this to me-stripped me of any strength, made me freeze like a deer in headlights. And I hated it. No, I loathed it, every cell in my body recoiling at the way they reduced me to this, forced my body to obey, to cower.

"Speak, whore!" he spat, his bloodshot eyes drilling into me like daggers.

Why did I even bother coming back?

"I was working," I stammered, desperate for something believable. "I-I had a late shift."

He scoffed, his lip curling in disdain. "That's the same bullshit you said yesterday! You can't keep pulling this 'late shift' crap-it's unprofessional!"

The irony almost made me laugh. What the hell does he know about being professional when he spends his nights drowning in cheap beer? But instead, I swallowed the retort and said, "My boss fired half the staff. I had to stay late to cover."

I'm the boss tf

He took a step toward me, and I instinctively stepped back. But the wall behind me put an end to that escape. Before I could react, his rough, ash-streaked hand clamped around my throat.

"Listen to me, and listen good." His words were slow, deliberate, slurred by alcohol but sharp as broken glass. "You're gonna quit that job and find one that doesn't keep you out all night. We don't want me getting mad, now, do we, Doll?"

His foul, whiskey-laden breath washed over my face as I choked out, "No, sir."

"Good girl." He loosened his grip just enough for air to trickle back into my lungs. But then his lips curled into a grin that made my blood run cold. "But bad behavior doesn't go unpunished, does it, Doll?"

Terror spiked through me as his hand dropped from my throat.

"No," I gasped, shaking my head violently. "Please-please, I'll do anything else. Just don't make me-"

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, like I was some disobedient pet. "Doesn't work that way, Doll."

His free hand reached for his belt, the metallic clink of the buckle unraveling sending a wave of nausea crashing through me.

"P-please don't," I choked out, trembling, my voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened, wicked and cruel. "Oh, don't worry. You'll enjoy it-you always do."

But I don't. I never do.

I tried running away but he held me down.

"How about a little reminder of what happens when you come late, hm?" He stated and I closed my eyes to stop anymore tears from escaping my eyes as I felt something sharp sink into my neck.

His biting me

I squirmed in his grip trying to make him let go but it was no use. He's bigger and stronger than me at this point.

His teeth sunk deeper and deeper. "Please stop!" I screamed not daring to open my eyes.

I cried and thrashed as his teeth pierced in deeper penetrating the flesh completely as crimson liquid seeped from the wound.

His teeth came off my neck and I as an idiot let my guard down and he took advantage of that by pulling my trousers down in a swift motion.

Once his hands fell from my body, my knees gave out and I fell to the floor and tried to pull my trousers back up.

But he pinned me down as his massive body pressed onto me.

I didn't object as he started to take off my clothes.

I didn't object when he hit me with his belt.

I didn't object when he started to kiss my skin leaving marks and mumbling a small 'sorry'.

I didn't object when he broke his beer bottle and started to carve my skin with the broke glass.

I didn't object when he began to penetrate into me.

I didn't object when he finished inside of me and left me in my own pool of blood.

After it's my fault for not saying no.

And even if I did, he doesn't know what 'no' means.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The waterfall roared in the background, a steady, soothing rhythm that almost drowned out the world beyond. Sebastian-Ian-sat beside me, his legs dangling in the cool water as the late afternoon sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. I leaned back on my hands, my face tilted toward the sunlight, pretending the warmth wasn't at war with the fire raging beneath my skin.

"You've been quiet," Ian said suddenly, breaking the silence. He nudged me lightly with his shoulder. "And don't try to tell me you're just enjoying the view, Mal. I know better."

I gave him a sidelong glance, my lips curving into a faint smile. "What, I can't enjoy the view without you psychoanalyzing me? Maybe I'm just taking in the peace before the chaos kicks back in."

His eyebrow arched. "You? Peaceful? Please." He splashed a little water in my direction, grinning. "You're always plotting something."

"Plotting how to deal with your annoying ass," I teased, pushing his arm gently.

The banter was easy, natural, and it kept my mind busy. But beneath the surface, every shift, every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through me. The bite mark on my neck throbbed, a fresh reminder of a life I couldn't fully escape. My adoptive father's rage was etched into my skin, and no amount of cold water or laughter could wash it away.

Ian stretched his arms behind him, leaning back as he stared up at the cascade of water. "This place doesn't get old, does it? The waterfall, the quiet... It's like our own little world."

"Yeah," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended. "Our spot."

He turned his head to look at me, his expression shifting from playful to concerned. "You sure you're okay, Mal? You've been fidgety since we got here."

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. "You worry too much, Ian. I'm fine."

His sharp gaze lingered, searching for cracks, but I held steady, plastering on the mask I'd perfected over the years. It wasn't that I didn't trust him-I did, more than anyone. But there were things he didn't need to know, things that would put him and Aurora at risk if they ever came out.

"So," I said, changing the subject, "how's your Instagram game going? Any new admirers sliding into your DMs?"

Ian rolled his eyes dramatically. "Always, but I'm starting to think they just want me for my looks. No one appreciates my sparkling personality."

"Your sparkling personality?" I snorted. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Mal," he quipped, splashing water at me again. "But for real, what about you? Any mysterious figures sweeping you off your feet?"

I shook my head, letting out a soft laugh. "Not in this lifetime, Ian."

"Shame," he said with a grin. "They'd have their work cut out for them."

I didn't respond, letting the silence settle between us as I stared at the water, watching the ripples spread from where our feet dipped in. The pain in my body was like a living thing, clawing at me, but I refused to let it show. I wouldn't ruin this moment, not for him, not for myself.

Ian sighed contentedly, lying back on the rocks. "You know, Mal, if we could stay here forever, just like this, I wouldn't complain."

"Me neither," I whispered, barely audible over the roar of the waterfall. But I knew better. Peace was a luxury we couldn't afford. Not yet.

For now, though, I could pretend. For now, I could laugh with Ian, even as the scars on my body screamed their truths.

~/~/~

The kitchen was filled with the warm aroma of roasted vegetables and garlic, a comforting contrast to the hollow ache that always seemed to linger in the corners of this house. I stood at the stove, stirring the pasta sauce as "Congratulations" by Mac Miller and Bilal played softly from the speaker. My fingers tapped the wooden spoon lightly against the edge of the pot, keeping rhythm with the music as I hummed along, a rare moment of calm settling over me.

My body is fucking killing me

I glanced at the clock. Aurora should have been home by now. My chest tightened slightly, but I quickly pushed the worry aside, focusing on the simmering sauce. She was fine, I told myself. She was always fine.

The front door creaked open, and I turned, just in time to see Aurora step in. She had her phone pressed to her ear, her laughter floating into the kitchen before I even saw her face. And when I did-when I caught sight of the bright smile lighting up her features-it was like a burst of sunlight piercing through a storm.

But as her eyes landed on me, the sunlight vanished. The smile faltered, then disappeared altogether, replaced by a mask of indifference so sharp it almost felt cruel. She pulled the phone away from her ear with a quiet "I'll call you back" and shoved it into her pocket without sparing me another glance.

My chest ached, but I managed a smile anyway. "Hey, Aurora," I said, trying to sound casual, like the change in her demeanor hadn't just knocked the wind out of me. "You're home early. I'm making your favorite-pasta with roasted veggies and that garlic butter sauce you like."

No response. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. She walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and started unscrewing the cap, her movements deliberate and slow.

I cleared my throat, determined not to let the silence win. "How was school?"

Why do I try?

She didn't look at me. Didn't answer. Just took a long sip of water before turning to leave the kitchen, her footsteps light but deafening in the quiet that followed.

The air felt heavy. My hand tightened around the spoon, and for a moment, I let myself feel the sting of it-the hurt, the frustration, the ache that came with trying so hard for someone who wouldn't even look at me. But only for a moment.

I turned back to the stove, stirring the sauce again, my movements slower now. The music filled the silence Aurora had left behind, Mac Miller's voice soothing even as my heart felt like it was fraying at the edges.

Maybe one day, I thought. Maybe one day, she'd smile at me again. Maybe one day, my efforts wouldn't feel so invisible.

But for now, I cooked dinner, humming softly, and hoped she'd at least eat it.