“My sister arrived trembling, br.uised, and begging me, ‘Don’t tell Dad anything.’ What she confessed about the woman living in her house chilled me to the bone. We looked so alike… that night I understood I could use my face to unmask the horror.”

She shoved me with all her might against the sharp edge of the granite counter. The pain flared up my spine and I had to grip the edge of the marble to keep from collapsing onto the floor.

But I didn’t stay quiet this time; I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

At that exact moment, the front door swung open and the light from the foyer spilled into the kitchen. My father stood there frozen, holding his briefcase and looking between his wife and his daughter.

The scene was undeniable, even for a man who had spent the last year trying to ignore the cracks in his perfect life. Francine reacted instantly, letting go of my arm as if she had been burned and forcing fake tears into her eyes.

“Patrick, thank god you’re home,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with false fear. “Your daughter is completely out of control; she just attacked me and started screaming these horrible things.”

My father looked confused and tired, falling back into his habit of choosing the easiest path. “Gen, what on earth did you do this time?”