Chapter 2: Twelve Videos and a Room Full of Witnesses
The applause followed me across the stage.
My shoes clicked against the polished floor. Water dripped from the end of my hair, and my graduation gown clung uncomfortably to my shoulders.
I placed my speech folder on the podium.
Then I looked directly at my father.
He gave me a thumbs-up.
That almost made me laugh.
"Good afternoon, everyone," I began.
My voice trembled slightly.
"Today is supposed to be about achievements. About hard work, sacrifice, and the people who helped us become who we are.""
The auditorium settled.
I continued.
"But sometimes, the people who are supposed to protect us are the very people we have to survive.""
A few parents exchanged glances.
My father stopped smiling.
"Emily," Vanessa whispered loudly from the front row.
I ignored her.
"Before I deliver my speech, I'd like to ask my father one question.""
Marcus slowly lowered his phone.
"What are you doing?"" he mouthed.
I looked at him.
"If Vanessa was only trying to help me, why is my graduation gown still wet?""
Silence swallowed the room.
Then Vanessa jumped to her feet.
"EMILY! STOP LYING!""
Mrs. Thompson moved toward the edge of the stage.
"Mrs. Carter, please sit down.""
Vanessa pointed at me.
"She's always been dramatic! She did something to herself and now she's blaming me!""
I looked toward the principal.
"Mrs. Thompson, may we show the files I brought this morning?""
The principal glanced at the technician.
"Go ahead.""
The lights dimmed.
The first video appeared on the giant screen.
It was recorded from a small camera I had placed on my bookshelf.
Vanessa stood in the middle of my bedroom holding my laptop.
"Give Brianna your assignment," she said.
"I need it for class tomorrow," I replied.
"She needs it more than you do.""
"She hasn't even started hers.""
Vanessa lifted the laptop.
"Then maybe you'll learn not to be selfish.""
The computer crashed against the floor.
The screen went black.
A gasp traveled through the auditorium.
The second video appeared.
It showed our kitchen at 7:42 p.m.
Brianna sat at the table eating roasted chicken and mashed potatoes.
Vanessa placed another serving on her plate.
I entered wearing my school uniform.
"Is there anything left?"" I asked.
Vanessa looked inside the refrigerator.
"No.""
"But I haven't eaten since lunch.""
"Then you should have thought about that before disrespecting me.""
Brianna looked at the camera and smiled.
"Sorry, Emily. It's really good.""
The video ended.
My father was no longer sitting.
He stood beside his chair, staring at the screen.
The third recording began.
This one showed Vanessa standing in the hallway outside my bedroom.
"If you tell Marcus what happened, I'll make sure you never see a penny of his money again.""
I was crying.
"Why do you hate me?""
Vanessa leaned toward the camera.
"Because every time I look at you, I remember that this house belonged to another woman before it belonged to me.""
Then she walked away.
The auditorium erupted in whispers.
Vanessa grabbed her purse.
"These videos are edited!""
Mrs. Thompson stepped toward the microphone.
"Please remain seated.""
"You don't understand!"" Vanessa shouted.
"That girl has been manipulating everyone!""
I reached for the microphone.
"There's more.""
My hands were shaking, but my voice had become steadier.
The fourth video showed Vanessa removing a birthday necklace from my dresser.
It had belonged to my mother.
I had received it when I turned ten.
In the recording, Vanessa held it up to the camera.
"This belongs in the trash.""
Then she dropped it into a kitchen garbage bag.
The fifth showed Brianna wearing my mother's old winter coat.
The sixth showed Vanessa tearing up a scholarship application because she wanted me to attend a local community college instead of leaving Atlanta.
The seventh showed her changing the password to my father's financial account after I asked him for money to buy school supplies.
The eighth showed her telling a family friend that I had behavioral problems and needed professional help.
The ninth captured her threatening to throw me out of the house.
The tenth showed her taking the money I had earned tutoring two middle-school students.
The eleventh was a recording of a conversation between Vanessa and Brianna.
"Once she leaves for college, everything will finally be ours," Brianna said.
Vanessa laughed.
"Your father will sign whatever I put in front of him.""
My father turned toward Vanessa.
"What does she mean?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"Marcus, don't listen to this!""
The twelfth video was different.
It showed my father entering the kitchen late one night.
Vanessa was sitting at the counter with a folder.
"She knows nothing about the money," Vanessa said.
Marcus opened the folder.
"Keep it that way.""
My father's voice echoed through the auditorium.
Then the screen went black.
I looked at him.
"Do you still want me to apologize?""
He didn't answer.
For the first time in six years, I watched my father struggle to find an excuse.
Then I reached into my pocket and removed a second memory card.
"This last recording was made last Thursday, when Dad thought I was asleep.""
My father suddenly rushed toward the stage.
"EMILY! PLEASE DON'T PLAY THAT ONE!""
The principal stepped between him and the stairs.
"Mr. Carter, you need to remain where you are.""
He looked terrified.
Not angry.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
I stared at him.
"How do you know what's on it, Dad?""
His face drained of color.
He swallowed.
Then he whispered something that made my hands go cold.
"Emily, if you play that recording, everyone will find out what really happened to your mother.""
The technician stopped moving.
Vanessa lowered herself slowly into her chair.
May you like
And I realized that the videos I had collected to expose my stepmother might have uncovered something much worse.
Something my father had spent six years hiding.
