Chapter 6 - The Screen Turns On
The fake, fragile smile completely vanished from Claire’s pale face.
My mother frowned in deep confusion and asked me what on earth I was talking about.
I didn't answer her verbally.
I just pointed the remote at the living room wall and pressed the power button.
The large television screen flared to life, instantly illuminating the dining room with bright, artificial light.
The very first slide appeared in stunning high definition.
It was the video clip of Claire standing under the warm, neon club lights in her strappy silver heels.
The volume was turned up, and the thumping bass of the club music filled my quiet apartment.
We all watched in absolute silence as Claire threw her head back, laughed hysterically, and downed a shot of tequila.
The timestamp "1:14 AM - Saturday" flashed aggressively at the bottom of the screen.
My father's jaw literally dropped open, his eyes darting frantically between the television and his "sick" daughter.
My mother stammered, trying to formulate a sentence, but her brain simply couldn't process the visual evidence.
I clicked the remote button again.
The next slide was a side-by-side comparison.
On the left was the text message my mother sent me that exact same night, begging me not to stress Claire out because she was too weak to leave her bed.
On the right was another photo of Claire from that night, grinding on a stranger on the dance floor.
Claire's face turned a horrifying shade of pale white, completely dropping her fragile, sickly act.
She sat straight up in her chair, all of her fake weakness instantly vanishing.
She shouted that the photos were heavily photoshopped and that I was trying to frame her.
I just smiled coldly and clicked the button again.
A picture of Claire on the steep mountain trail appeared, wearing expensive gear.
Then a video of her deadlifting heavy weights at the gym played loudly.
Then the photos from the music festival and the luxury beach trip flashed across the screen.
Beside every single image was the corresponding text message where my parents were begging me for money or sympathy for her medical condition.
I showed them the website for the holistic wellness clinic, highlighting the spa menu for hot stone massages and organic facials.
"She hasn't been going to a medical clinic," I said calmly, looking directly at my father.
"You've been funding her weekly trips to a luxury day spa."
My father turned slowly to look at Claire, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson red.
"Claire," he demanded, his voice shaking with furious anger.
"Tell me this is a joke."
Claire began to hyperventilate, real panic finally setting into her eyes.
She looked at my mother and started crying, but this time, the tears were completely genuine.
She swore that she only went out on her "good days" to try and maintain her mental health.
She cried that I was a bitter, jealous monster who was twisting her coping mechanisms into something evil.
My mother immediately rushed to Claire's side, wrapping her arms around her defensively.
My mother yelled at me, demanding I turn the screen off, claiming the stress was going to give Claire a heart attack.
She said even if Claire went out once or twice, she still needed the apartment for her safety.
It was incredible to watch my mother's absolute denial in real time.
She was so deeply invested in the lie that she was willing to ignore overwhelming video evidence.
Claire smirked at me from behind our mother's shoulder, thinking she had successfully manipulated the situation once again.
She told my father to just make me sign the paper so they could leave this toxic environment.
I shook my head slowly, realizing there was no saving my relationship with my mother.
But I wasn't finished yet.
I aimed the remote at the television for the final time.
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I told them I had one last slide to show, and it was a message from Maya.
Claire's confident smirk instantly morphed into sheer, unadulterated terror.
