Darkness surrounded April, but inside her mind, the memories burned bright, replaying like a cruel montage of her life.

She had spent years looking out for Ophelia, even knowing the truth of who she really was. Even when her so-called friends wanted to exclude Ophelia, April had refused to hang out with them unless her "sister" could tag along. Even when the maids had bullied Ophelia, April had stepped in, shielding her from their cruelty.

But what had it ever gotten her?

Punishment.

Every. Single. Time.

Her father would never listen, never believe her. He only ever saw April as the troublemaker, the one at fault, while Ophelia always came out smelling like a rose.

April learned quickly—explaining was useless. Her father’s mind was already made up before she even opened her mouth. And so, she stopped trying. She let the punishments happen, she swallowed her words, and she took the blame. Better me than her, she had once told herself, naively believing it would earn her some sliver of approval.

She had been so, so wrong.

A memory surfaced—Ophelia becoming top of her class. Their parents had been ecstatic. That night, they had dressed up, taken Ophelia out to celebrate at a five-star restaurant, praising her for being such a “perfect daughter.”

And April?

April had been left behind.

"You should be setting an example as the older sibling," Alex had scolded before slamming the door in her face.

April had sat alone that night, the house too quiet, her stomach empty, her heart even emptier. She had cried until exhaustion overtook her.

Another memory flickered through the haze of April’s subconscious—Ophelia, crying at the bottom of the stairs, clutching her leg in pain.

She had fallen on her own. On her own.

But that hadn't mattered.

"April, this is your fault!" Alex had thundered. "You're her older sister! You should’ve been watching her!"

April had opened her mouth to protest—to beg them to believe her—but Kelly had already rushed to Ophelia’s side, fussing over her, whispering soft words of comfort.

No one even looked at April.

She was just a child herself. She had needed guidance, love, parents. But all she ever got were harsh words and punishments while Ophelia got all their affection.

April had locked herself in her room that night, sobbing uncontrollably.

The storm had come that same evening—loud thunder, lightning striking across the sky. April had always been afraid of storms.

Still trembling from her father’s harsh words, she had gathered what little courage she had left and left her room, making her way to her parents' door.

She just wanted to see her mother.

To hear her tell her that she mattered too.

But when she opened the door—

The room was empty.

A maid had found her, her eyes red from crying, her small frame shaking. "Miss April, Madam is in Miss Ophelia's room, taking care of her. Your father isn’t home yet."

April had swallowed down the lump in her throat and made her way to Ophelia’s room. The storm outside howled, but all she could hear was the pounding of her heart.

When she stepped inside, she saw Kelly sitting on the bed, stroking Ophelia’s hair gently, whispering words of comfort.

April had rushed forward, wrapping her small arms around her mother’s leg. "Mom," she had whimpered, "I’m scared."

Kelly scoffed.

"April, grow up," she snapped, pushing her away. "It’s just a storm. Ophelia needs my care more right now. Stop being selfish."

April had frozen in place.

Then, Kelly had scolded her. She had scolded her for being scared.

Before she knew it, April was being ushered out, back into the lonely darkness of her room.

She had curled under her blankets that night, shaking, trying so hard to convince herself that she was a big girl and that it was okay.

But she knew the truth.

She was alone.

She had always been alone.

And so, the pattern continued.

Her father picking up Ophelia from school first, fussing over her, making April feel like an afterthought.

Watching her mother, father, and Ophelia laugh together as a happy family—while she was locked away in her room, punished yet again for trying to protect the very person who was ruining her life.

April had started biting her hand when she cried.

Then, when that wasn’t enough, she had begun cutting.

Small, shallow marks at first, hidden beneath skirts and pants. But as the pain in her heart grew, so did the scars on her skin.

She had stopped eating with them.

Stopped trying to be part of the family.

Stopped trying at all.

She had learned to pass by them like a ghost, heading straight to her room, avoiding their conversations, their fake concern, their dismissive words.

She had disappeared in every way that mattered—long before she had fallen into this ocean.

Her body continued to drift beneath the water, her thoughts fading in and out.

Her lungs burned.

Her limbs felt heavy.

The memories of her life, of all the why’s that had led her to this moment, swirled around her.

What was the point of it all?

Even now, drowning in the abyss, she knew—

No one would truly miss her.

Not Alex.

Not Kelly.

Not even Sen.

Ophelia won. She always won.

As her body sank deeper, the darkness wrapped itself around her, welcoming her into its quiet, merciful embrace.

And for the first time in her life—

April didn’t fight it.