While our parents stood frozen with indecision, I inched toward the door. Ethel spotted me and drove her foot into my lower abdomen.
The wound tore open. I doubled over, drenched in cold sweat, but I forced the words through clenched teeth. "You're scared, Ethel. That's what this is. You keep saying Mr. Stephens loves you. Where's the proof? Mom, Dad, stop her. If I die, Mr. Stephens will never let you walk free."
My conviction made them waver again.
That was when Ethel, looking like she'd reached her absolute limit, pulled out her phone and tapped the screen.
"I didn't want to show this, but fine. Watch this video. Then tell me you don't believe me."
A wave of obscene sounds filled the room.
Her parents watched with wide eyes, their faces lit up with delight.
"I believe it now! The Mr. Stephens on TV looks exactly like that!"
"Our Ethel really came through! They've already slept together. If he's not going to marry you, who else would he marry?"
I felt as though lightning had struck me. I couldn't believe a single word of it.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Only one thought consumed me now: I had to get out of here. I had to survive. I had to find out the truth.
Bang, bang, bang.