"Jesus Christ!" Lola says in her high-pitched voice as she stumbles into her room. "What the hell are you doing here in the dark? Shouldn't you be sleeping in your bed?"

I shake my head. "I've been awake."

Lola's hand reaches out to the light switch, and in one blink of an eye, her room comes to life. Unlike Gretta's dull chamber, her step-sister's room has more tones and ornaments. The yellow-red wallpaper next to her bed is barely visible, occupied by big posters of her favorite pop singers. Ethnic decorations adorn the other side of the wall, which she collected during traveling. Next to the door, stands a white wooden dresser with a make-up table attached to it.

"You could at least turn the light on instead of sitting in the dark in that dress. I swear you will give me a heart attack one of these days," she grumbles as she plops down on the vanity stool by the mirror. Her jet-black hair cascades over her bare shoulder once she pulls off her vibrant pink hairband. She shakes her head slightly to give it more volume. Under the bright light, her face is noticeably flushed, and her eyes are bloodshot.

"What's wrong with this dress?" I ask in an innocent voice, trying to sound like Gretta.

Lola rolls her eyes and kicks her pink high-heels off her feet, a little bit too hard that it makes a loud thud against the furniture. "I don't understand why you're so into that creepy curtain dress."

I bite the inner part of my cheek, refraining from laughing. "It's not a curtain dress." I look down to examine Gretta's favorite evening dress. "It's a...white dress with" —I purse my lips, trying to find the perfect words— "ruffles and see-through fabric, and flowy–"

"Hence, a curtain," Lola replies before standing up and throwing herself onto her bed. With a sigh, she closes her eyes. "Creepy white curtain."

"So, it's creepy because it's white? Or because it looks like a curtain?"

Lola shrugs, eyes still closed. "Don't know. Both maybe."

"Do you hate white dresses, Lola?"

"Not my favorite for dresses indeed." She opens her eyes and glares in my direction. "Why are you here, Gretta? If you want to show me your new sketches, I'm too buzzed right now."

"Why don't you like white dresses?" I ask, ignoring her question.

"Excuse me? Did you not hear what I just said? I'm too tired now, and I want to sleep. Come back tomorrow with whatever you want to show me." She closes her eyes again and massages her temple.

"Is it because it easily gets dirty? Or because the bloodstain will be too obvious when you wear white? Let's say someone stabs you in the stomach, your white dress will create an interesting motif: a gigantic crimson sunflower on the waistline." I shriek as I bring my fingers over my lips. "Exactly like what we saw this afternoon!"

Lola's hand stops short, and she freezes for a few seconds.

"What happened to that girl, Lola? Mary wasn't it?" I ask, still acting uneasy and concerned. "I really can't recall what happened after I passed out. Did Mary make it? But wait, of course she did. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here having dinner with our family this evening. And I wonder how I got home."

"You woke up soon after you passed out, and we walked home."

"Did we?" I genuinely don't remember that part, nor does Gretta, but I will give her some time to get the memory back. It takes her hours or days to get to some scenes sometimes. "What about Mary then? Who attacked her?"

With her elbows pressing down on her mattress, Lola struggles to sit upright while wincing as if she's in pain. "I don't know what you're talking about. You passed out from the heatstroke; no one was getting attacked. Now, I really need my rest. Go back to your room, Gretta," she says, her voice getting stiffer every second.

Instead of complying with her, I lean back deeper into her study chair while extending my feet forward. "I'm not leaving until I know what happened. Until you tell me the truth."

Lola tilts her head, her eyes coated with a perplexed glint; she must be astounded by the change in my tone. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"What an attitude." Lola narrows her eyes on me while her lips make a straight thin line. Then she says, "I have to say, I don't understand you lately. You act weirdly as if you're a different person sometimes. Are you playing games, Gretta?"

I scoff. "Me? Playing games? Look who's talking!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Aren't you the one who has been playing games, Lola? Don't you think I haven't noticed that? Let's see. A noble-sister game, a good-daughter game, a trophy-girlfriend game." I smirk. "Shall I go on?"

"Shut up. Just shut up!" If her face was flushed when she entered the room, her skin is now as red as a radish.

"Come on, we both know you get the most benefits from these games. You carry the big Adelson's name now, and you can get anything you want; no need to worry about money. You've also got a defenseless sister whom you can use to show the world how good you are as a sister. And oh, it got you betrothed to a beautiful son of a successful businessman in the state!"

Slowly, Lola gets up from her bed, almost stumbling backward for balance but she eventually manages to walk in my direction. "Is that what you think of me? Do you think I wanted this in the first place?"

"You tell me, Lola."

"I had no choice but to move in here because our parents got married. I dropped my friends, my childhood sweetheart, and my life, just to follow my mom and live here on this stupid island." Lola's red eyes are fixed on me with a sharpness that can cut a ruby. "And oh, it turned out, my stepfather had a unique daughter whom he hid from the world for years. And guess what? He assigned me, yes, he assigned me to guard his lunatic child from day one when I stepped into this house."

I'm not going to lie, her last line is like a big blow in my gut. She's not wrong to some extent, and I hate the fact that Gretta is too weak to fight for herself. Her dependency on Lola infuriates me to the core.

"For five years, Gretta, you've been following me around like a sick puppy, wanting to wear what I wear, eat what I eat, befriend my friends. And oh, don't you dare think I don't know you have a thing for Damien. You want him too, don't you?"

If it was Gretta who sat here, she would be crying and apologizing for being a burden to her step-sister. Well, I'm not Gretta.

"No. I don't want Damien." At least, I'm not lying. Gretta doesn't want Damien. "And it seems like things between you and him have been going so well. Have you guys set the date for the engagement party?"

My reply has somehow diverted her anger. "Damien and I are in the middle of discussing it."

So, Damien didn't tell her about his situation this evening. Or maybe he just didn't mean what he said about terminating the arrangement. Such a slick boy he is. Lola's hand on my wrist disrupts my train of thought, and I swat her hand out of reflex.

"Get up from my chair and go back to your room, Gretta. You overstayed my welcome."

I push her swivel chair backward until it hits the wall, creating a proper gap between us. "No. I told you I won't go before you tell me what was going on today in the woods." I look up at her, feeling my growing hatred for her. "We saw Mary in the woods, Lola, yet she denied it. Was that bloody girl not Mary? Who was she, then? And what happened to her? I know there is something you're hiding from me."

Lola stares at me for a while, resting both her hands on the sides of her hips, and then she laughs. A big laugh that she almost chokes on her own saliva. So unladylike. For a second, I imagine she does this in front of Damien. Would he be shocked by how differently she behaved in front of everyone?

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? How pathetic you are when you act as if you know what you're talking about." Lola leans forward, her palms pressing down on both chair hand rests to support her weight. The smell of reeking alcohol hits my nostrils as she sneers closely at my face. "Do you know what's good for you now, dear sister? Go back to your room, listen to your music, read your magazines, or sketch some ugly dresses, and then go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, make sure to take your meds on time, and your day will start again. Hopefully without a bloody dream this time."

"I know what happened today in the woods is real, Lola."

"Well, it's not." Lola pulls herself up and smiles. "You always have this absurd hallucination when you're slacking with your meds."

"It has nothing to do with me not taking my pills. I know what I saw."

"No, you don't, Gretta."

"You are lying!"

Lola closes her eyes and groans. "I know what you saw wasn't real because you have what your mom had, okay? You got this sickness from her."

I freeze at her reply, completely unprepared for her answer.

Lola pivots on her heels, strides to her dresser, and leans back to it, arms crossed over her chest. "She was also sick, like you. The difference is that she didn't take her medicines. At all. Do you know what happened to her after that?"

I try to swallow but my throat has gone dry all of a sudden. I haven't learned about Gretta's late mother. Her existence has never been openly mentioned in this house, and even Gretta has no clear recollection of the woman who bore her. To me, that person doesn't exist.

"How did you know stories about my mother? You just arrived here five years ago. You know nothing about her."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes again. "Naive, naive Gretta. Of course I know everything. People talk; even the walls talk. Everything that happened inside this house, everyone knows."

"But people gossip. That's not necessarily the truth." My feet start to fidget out of my control, and my stomach churns. I'm not liking how this conversation changed.

"Whatever," she replies, massaging her temple again. "Anyways, since your mother refused to take her meds, her condition became worse over time until she couldn't differentiate her delusions from reality. Feels familiar, dear Gretta?"

I press my lips, refraining from answering her. As much as the talk about Gretta's mom makes me nervous, I can't deny my growing curiosity about the truth in the story.

"And did you know what they said she did?" Lola continues. "She almost killed her own child. You."

Little feet running across a black granite floor flash through my mind. The feet were bare, wet, stained, and warm...

"She believed that a bad spirit was following you, and one day she said she had to free you from the evil spirit that already took residence inside you."

A brown teddy bear dangled from a small hand, its face covered with dark stains. And the stain was still wet, dripping down the floor... I shake my head to get rid of the images from my head. I don't even know how they just involuntarily popped up in my mind.

I stand up abruptly, almost knocking on the chair in the process. "I don't need to hear more nonsense from you. I know what I saw, and we both know it was real," I say even though deep down, I start to doubt myself. "And I won't stop until I find the answer."

She laughs in her high-pitched voice. "Suit yourself then."