Then, the sickening, unmistakable, bone-crunching sound of the heavy iron wrench slamming into my skull. CRACK.
The sound made the paramedics wince.
Then came the audio of the aftermath. The horrific, undeniable sound of my mother and sister laughing while I lay bleeding on the floor.
Chloe’s voice rang out, crystal clear and sociopathic: “At least you’re pretty now… One hit wasn’t enough.”
My mother’s cold, calculating voice: “Your turn.”
And finally, the most damning sound of all. My father’s calm, terrifying command as I screamed through the blood: “Hold still.”
Travis paused the recording.
The silence that followed was absolute. It was the silence of total, inescapable destruction.
The color entirely drained from my mother’s face, leaving her looking like a withered, terrified corpse. Her jaw dropped in sheer, unadulterated horror as she realized her perfect, manicured lies had just been obliterated by HD reality. My father slumped against the officer holding him, his legs giving out completely.
Chloe let out a low, whimpering wail of terror.
The police lieutenant stared at my parents with absolute, professional disgust. He turned to his officers.
“That’s attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon,” the lieutenant barked. “Get them out of my sight. Cuff all three of them and put them in separate cruisers.”
As the officers roughly shoved my parents toward the front door, the cold steel handcuffs ratcheting tightly around my father’s wrists, Travis stepped directly into my mother’s path.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a pathetic, desperate plea for mercy.
