Six Years of Torment, a Lifetime of Regret

My boyfriend's younger sister committed suicide after being raped.

I knew the truth.

But I chose to remain silent.

His parents knelt before me.

I turned and walked away.

Reporters swarmed my home.

I raised a kitchen knife.

Lincoln Roscente didn't break up with me.

He married me against his family's wishes.

On our wedding day, he smiled tenderly.

Only I saw the ice beneath that smile.

Six years of marriage.

He brought different men.

Made me relive his sister's despair every night.

My body began to deteriorate.

Today.

He placed me on the Memory Tribunal.

Broadcasted nationwide.

Twenty thousand spectators watched live.

"Joan, you don't deserve to be human!"

Lincoln's voice boomed through the microphone.

I lay on the hospital bed.

A ventilator kept me alive.

"Playing the victim won't work!"

"You protected the rapist!"

"Today is your day of reckoning!"

The machine whirred to life.

I looked at Lincoln.

Shook my head weakly.

Tears streamed down.

He smirked.

"Scared now?"

"When Lily begged you, where was your fear?"

His parents sat in the front row.

Six years had aged them terribly.

Olivia pointed at me, screaming.

"You vile jinx!"

"Who killed my daughter?"

"Speak!"

Lawrence held her.

Both trembled with rage.

The crowd erupted.

Someone hurled an egg.

Yolk dripped down my forehead.

Sticky. Foul.

Security intervened.

Lincoln signaled to begin.

Needles pierced my scalp.

My body convulsed.

A broken whimper escaped my throat.

The doctor reached for sedatives.

Lincoln snatched the syringe.

Replaced it with stimulants.

"She won't survive this—"

"Use it."

He silenced the doctor.

The injection burned through my veins.

Pain dulled.

Consciousness sharpened.

The screen flickered.

Memories began playing.

High school classroom.

Lincoln sat behind me.

Poked my shoulder with his pen.

"Joan."

"Wait for me after school."

Our first conversation.

Sunlight illuminated his face.

I later learned.

He befriended me for Lily.

She wanted to meet me.

Because her brother spoke of me often.

Middle schooler Lily.

Ponytail bouncing.

Eyes sparkling.

"Sis!"

She'd call me that.

Followed me everywhere.

Like a little shadow.

Lincoln indulged her.

I adored her too.

Treated her as my own sister.

Until that weekend.

Lily said she was studying at a friend's.

Never came home.

We found her by the river.

Drenched.

Eyes hollow.

Three days later.

She jumped from the school roof.

Her suicide note:

"Forgive me. I'm tainted."

Police investigation.

Surveillance footage showed Lily entering an alley.

Emerging disheveled.

No cameras in the alley.

No suspect identified.

But I knew.

I was there that day.

Saw him drag Lily inside.

Heard her muffled cries.

I hid behind the wall.

Trembling.

Silent.

He spotted me afterward.

Met my eyes.

Pressed a finger to his lips.

The principal's son.

Powerful family.

Threatened my parents' jobs.

I was terrified.

So I buried the truth.

At Lily's funeral.

Olivia collapsed.

Lincoln clutched the tombstone.

Silent.

He asked if I knew anything.

I shook my head.

His gaze bore into me.

Then said:

"Joan, I trust you."

Those words flayed me alive.

His parents begged on their knees.

Reporters ambushed me.

I kept silent.

Yet Lincoln proposed.

"Joan, marry me."

"I'll protect you."

I mistook it for love.

Now I know.

It was hatred.

Our wedding night.

He ripped my gown.

Pinned me against the wall.

"Why didn't you speak?"

His teeth grazed my ear.

"Lily adored you."

"How could you?"

Then I understood.

He'd suspected all along.

Married me.

To punish me.

Every day since.

Has been hell.

Different men.

Sometimes strangers.

Sometimes his friends.

He'd watch.

"Feel it."

"What Lily felt."

I pleaded.

Screamed.

Fought.

He remained unmoved.

"Just the beginning."

"Joan."

"We have forever."

Six years.

My body failed.

My mind shattered.

Today.

The Memory Tribunal arrived.

This new technology.

Extracts deepest memories.

He'd show the nation.

Who I truly was.

The screen displayed.

High school prom.

Lincoln announced before everyone:

"This is my girlfriend, Joan."

Lily clapped wildly.

Beaming brighter than anyone.

One week before her assault.

She'd whispered:

"Sis, when will you marry my brother?"

"I want to be bridesmaid."

I'd said:

"When you enter high school."

Her eyes shone.

"I'll study hard!"

"Be the prettiest bridesmaid!"

She never got the chance.

Memory shifted.

The alley entrance.

I saw the principal's son dragging Lily.

She struggled.

He muffled her screams.

I crouched behind the wall.

Heard fabric tear.

Heard her whimpers.

Wanted to intervene.

My legs turned to lead.

He emerged afterward.

Spotted me.

Smirked.

"Joan?"

"What a coincidence."

Approached me.

Lily's blood on his clothes.

"Today never happened."

"Understand?"

I nodded.

Trembling.

He patted my cheek.

"Good girl."

"One word."

"Your parents lose their jobs."

His father: the principal.

Mother: education board official.

My family: ordinary working class.

Fear paralyzed me.

So I buried the memory.

The footage ended.

Silence.

Then outrage exploded.

"Monster!"

"She knew all along!"

"Why didn't she report it?"

Olivia fainted.

Lawrence wept over her.

Lincoln stood rigid.

Knuckles white.

His gaze locked on me.

Eyes swirling with—

Hatred.

Anguish.

Something else.

Memories resumed.

After Lily's death.

I sneaked into her room.

Found her hidden diary.

The final entry:

"Sis saw me."

"Why didn't she help?"

"Am I too dirty now?"

Those words branded my soul.

I burned the diary.

Scattered ashes in the river.

Buried the secret deep.

When Lincoln proposed.

I hesitated.

But wanted redemption.

Thought marrying him.

Caring for him forever.

Would atone.

I was wrong.

Six years of torment.

I endured silently.

Believed I deserved it.

Until my body gave out.

Doctors said I wouldn't last the year.

Lincoln declared:

"Then let her final act."

"Expose the truth."

The Memory Tribunal.

His parting gift.

The screen froze.

Flames consuming the diary.

Consuming my conscience.

Deafening silence.

Then a retired detective stood.

Had followed Lily's case for years.

"That alley."

"Got cameras later."

"Caught the same man."

"Dragging another girl."

"She reported it."

"But evidence vanished."

"His family pulled strings."

"Case dismissed."

He pointed at the screen.

"If Joan had spoken."

"That girl would be alive."

The words detonated.

Lincoln whirled toward him.

"What?"

"There was another?"

The detective nodded.

"She killed herself too."

"Just like your Lily."

Lincoln staggered.

Grabbed the console.

Looked at me.

First flicker of doubt.

"You..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I parted my lips.

The ventilator alarm shrieked.

Doctors rushed forward.

"She's crashing!"