Chapter 5
I couldn't stop thinking about the camera.
Almost a year.
That meant someone might have been watching me since I was sixteen.
I thought about every private moment I'd spent in my bedroom.
The nights I cried after arguments.
The conversations I had with Lily.
The times I called friends and admitted I was frightened of Mom.
My stomach twisted.
Had she heard everything?
Had she known exactly how hurt I was?
And had she used that information against me?
I sat on Grandma's guest bed, staring at the wall.
Then Lily knocked.
"Maya?"
I wiped my face.
"Come in."
She entered carrying two cups of hot chocolate.
She handed me one.
Then sat beside me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, "I'm sorry."
I looked at her.
"For what?"
She stared into her cup.
"For not standing up for you sooner."
My chest tightened.
"Lily..."
She shook her head.
"I knew Mom was being mean."
Her voice broke.
"I saw her yell at you. I heard her call you names."
I looked down.
She continued.
"But I was scared she'd do the same thing to me."
Tears filled my eyes.
I put my cup aside.
Then took her hand.
"Lily, you were scared too."
She nodded.
"But you're my sister."
I swallowed.
"And you're mine."
She looked up.
I continued.
"Mom shouldn't have made either of us afraid to tell the truth."
Lily began crying.
I hugged her.
For a long time, we held each other.
Then she whispered something that made me freeze.
"Maya, Mom used to ask me questions about you."
I pulled back.
"What questions?"
She looked uncomfortable.
"Who you talked to. Whether you had a boyfriend. What you said about her."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you tell her?"
Lily nodded.
"Sometimes."
I felt sick.
She immediately started crying harder.
"I'm sorry!"
I took a breath.
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was angry.
But I could see how frightened she was.
I looked at her.
"Did she tell you why she wanted to know?"
Lily nodded.
"She said she was protecting the family."
I closed my eyes.
Those words had become Mom's favorite excuse.
Protecting the family.
Protecting our reputation.
Protecting us from bad influences.
But somehow, her protection always meant controlling us.
I looked at Lily.
"Did she ever ask you to record me?"
Her eyes widened.
"No."
I exhaled.
Then she hesitated.
"But she asked me to leave my phone in your room once."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
She looked down.
"She said she needed to hear what you were saying about her."
I stared at my sister.
The room seemed to tilt.
"When?"
"Last summer."
I felt cold.
Last summer.
Around the same time I started noticing that Mom always knew things I'd never told her.
She knew when I complained to my best friend, Tasha.
She knew when I cried about my grades.
She knew when I considered asking Dad whether I could stay with Grandma.
I had thought Lily was telling her everything.
Now I realized Mom might have been secretly listening herself.
I stood.
"I need to tell Dad."
Lily grabbed my hand.
"Please don't be mad at me."
I turned.
My heart broke.
"I'm not going to punish you for telling the truth."
She looked relieved.
We went downstairs together.
Dad was sitting with Rebecca in Grandma's study.
When we entered, he immediately stood.
"Girls?"
I explained what Lily had told me.
Dad's expression changed.
Rebecca listened carefully.
Then asked Lily a few simple questions.
She didn't pressure her.
She simply documented what she voluntarily remembered.
When Lily finished, Dad crouched beside her.
"Thank you for telling us."
She started crying.
"Are you mad?"
He shook his head.
"No, sweetheart."
She looked relieved.
He hugged her.
Then he turned toward me.
"Maya, how are you feeling?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Then I whispered, "I don't know who I can trust anymore."
His face crumpled.
I started crying.
He came closer.
"Can I hug you?"
I nodded.
He held me tightly.
For several minutes, I couldn't stop shaking.
The following week, I started seeing a counselor.
Her name was Dr. Renee Carter.
She was a kind Black woman in her fifties with a calm voice and warm eyes.
At first, I didn't want to talk.
I was tired of explaining myself.
Tired of answering questions.
Tired of feeling like every memory might become evidence.
Dr. Carter didn't rush me.
She simply said, "You don't have to tell me everything today."
I looked at her.
"Really?"
She smiled.
"Really."
For the first time, I felt like I had control over my own story.
After several sessions, I began opening up.
I told her about Mom's anger.
The slap.
The threats.
The camera.
The way I'd started believing I was a bad daughter.
Dr. Carter listened.
Then asked something that made me cry.
"What would you tell Lily if she had experienced these things?"
I looked down.
I'd tell her she didn't deserve it.
I'd tell her she was loved.
I'd tell her she could make mistakes without being hurt.
I whispered those answers.
Then Dr. Carter asked, "Can those things also be true about you?"
I started sobbing.
Because I realized how difficult it was to believe them about myself.
At school, things were complicated.
My best friend, Tasha, noticed immediately.
She'd known me since seventh grade.
She knew when I was pretending to be okay.
One afternoon, she sat beside me during lunch.
"Maya, something's wrong."
I shrugged.
"I'm tired."
She gave me a look.
"Try again."
I almost smiled.
Then my eyes filled.
I told her some of what happened.
Not every detail.
Just enough.
When I finished, she looked devastated.
"Maya..."
I wiped my face.
"Please don't look at me like that."
She shook her head.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm broken."
Her expression softened.
"You're not broken."
I looked away.
She continued.
"You're my best friend."
My throat tightened.
"And I'm still here."
I started crying again.
She hugged me.
And for the first time in months, I felt like my world might become normal again.
Then Dad called that evening.
His voice was serious.
"Maya, the investigators found something concerning."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
He hesitated.
"The camera files weren't only stored inside the house."
I froze.
"What do you mean?"
He took a breath.
"Some recordings appear to have been copied to an external account."
I felt sick.
"Who had access?"
Dad's voice broke.
"That's what they're investigating."
I stared at the wall.
And suddenly, the nightmare felt even bigger.
May you like
Because someone might have been sharing pieces of my private life.
And I had no idea who had seen them.
