"Do you have no shame?" she hissed. "Does this family starve you? Do we deny you water?"
"You actually ran to the streets to act pitiful in front of a sanitation worker? Begging her to buy you porridge?"
"You're trying to make people think we abuse you, aren't you?" She stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Michelle, I didn't realize your scheming ran this deep."
The barrage of accusations hit me like physical blows.
How did they know Eliana bought me porridge? Did they have someone following me? Was I bugged?
Years ago, to find "evidence" that I was harming Grace, they had installed surveillance cameras in every room of the house. They had even hired a private investigator.
I had naively thought the investigator would prove my innocence. Instead, when he found nothing, my parents accused me of being a master manipulator, claiming I was "hiding deeply."
During that time, I felt like I was living in a glass cage. Watched constantly.
Now, that old fear wrapped around my throat. I began to tremble, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Dad noticed. "Michelle, what is wrong with you?"
Mom sneered. "Stop pretending. The trashy things you did are already all over the internet."
*The internet?*