Chapter 1

Three years after I was diagnosed with severe depression, my parents still couldn't bring themselves to leave me alone.

Three years ago, my adopted sister took my photos and used them for online dating. The man on the other end turned out to be a stalker.

He mistook me for her, and he assaulted me.

After it happened, my parents threw her out of the house.

Mom nailed every window in the house shut. For three whole years, she never let me go near one.

Dad quit his job to stay home with me, and locked away every knife in the kitchen.

Then, three years later, my sister came back holding a counseling license.

She knelt at the door and cried, saying everything that had happened was her fault.

She said she'd thrown herself into studying psychology all those years for one reason: to come back and heal me, to make it right with her own hands.

In the end, my parents let her in.

She said sealing the windows for three years had only pushed me deeper into despair.

So Mom pried the nails out and pushed every window wide open.

Dad took the kitchen knives that had been locked away for three years and put them back where they belonged.

"You have to learn to press those dark thoughts down on your own."

Until the last session of desensitization therapy.

My sister called back the man from three years ago and locked the two of us inside my bedroom.

I pounded on the door, begging them to let me out.

Through the wood, I heard her murmur:

"Just get through this one last time, and everything will be fine."

My parents let out a sigh.

"That's right."

"Once we get past this, we'll all be free."

Tears in my eyes, I slowly let my hand slide off the door.

Looking at the wide-open window, I gave up struggling entirely.

……

The door finally opened, and the man dressed himself, taking his time.

Before he left, he glanced back at me, his smile full of malice.

"You made such a scene back then, got me sentenced to ten years, and in the end your mom and dad signed a letter of forgiveness and paid to get me out anyway."

"Guess I treated you too well three years ago. After all this time, you still wanted me back."

He pinched a fistful of my already bruised waist and narrowed his eyes, satisfied.

"I took some photos for my buddies. They're dying with envy. One of these days I'll bring them along to come see you."

With that, he laughed loudly and shoved the door open on his way out.

The next second, my parents rushed in almost immediately.

The first thing Mom saw was me sitting on the edge of the bed.

My clothes were a mess, every inch of bare skin covered in marks.

But I wasn't crying, and I wasn't making a scene.

I only stared blankly at that window she had reopened with her own hands.

The color drained from Mom's face in an instant.

She hurried over to me, her voice trembling.

"Bev?"

"Why are you… why are you so quiet?"

I didn't answer.

My sister suddenly clapped her hands behind me.

"It worked!"

She looked at our parents, her face bright with delight.

"This proves the desensitization therapy worked!"

"Bev can face the old trauma calmly now. She's accepted what happened!"

"She's recovered!"

Mom froze for a couple of seconds.

The fear that had filled her eyes moments ago slowly drained away, replaced by the wild, relieved joy of a weight lifted.

"Really?"

She let out a sharp breath.

"Thank goodness. These three years, you've dragged us down so—"

She cut off halfway, as if she'd suddenly realized something, and clamped her mouth shut.

The room went quiet for a beat.

But Dad acted as if he hadn't heard a thing, patting my shoulder with obvious relief.

"As long as you've come out of it, that's what matters."

"Since you can face the past calmly now, and it really was your sister who healed you, then let's leave the old business here."

He glanced at my sister, whose eyes had gone red.