She was eight, standing outside her parents' bedroom. She had just returned from her piano lesson. She had never liked it, though her mother insisted she continue.
"Mommy?" the young Arianne called through the closed door.
Faint crying came from the other side.
The scene shifted.
Now she watched herself years later, hiding behind a door late at night while her parents argued inside the bedroom. Words sharp. Overlapping. Tears running down the young girl's face.
The door swung open without warning. Her father stepped out, knocking the child backward onto the floor. He paused. Looked down at her. Clicked his tongue in disapproval before walking away.
Ysabella followed him into the hallway but failed to stop him. The front door closed moments later.
When Ysabella returned, she found her daughter standing near the bedroom entrance. Her expression changed.
She grabbed Arianne's shoulders.
"This is all your fault. I should never have given birth to someone like you."
