Chapter 1 – The New Clarisse

My body ached all over. It wasn’t the dull, lingering pain of a simple bruise—it was the deep, throbbing kind that came from years of malnutrition and neglect.

I clenched my jaw as I sat up on the bed. It felt wrong. My body felt wrong. It was weak, fragile, nothing like the one I had before.

But this was my body now.

I took a slow breath, my fingers gripping the thin blanket wrapped around me. Everything was still sinking in—the memories, the pain, the reality that I wasn’t me anymore.

I was Clarisse now. The neglected daughter. The family’s shadow. The girl who never fought back.

But not anymore.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. No—not a knock. A loud, impatient bang.

“Clarisse! Get out here! Mom’s already mad because you’re still in bed!”

The voice belonged to a girl. Sharp, annoyed. Cassandra.

The memory clicked into place instantly. My older sister. The perfect daughter. The golden child. The one who made sure I knew my place at the bottom.

I didn’t answer.

Another bang. “Clarisse! Are you deaf?!”

I exhaled slowly, forcing my body to move. My legs felt shaky as I stood up, but I pushed through it. I glanced at the cracked mirror in the corner.

The girl staring back at me wasn’t the same as yesterday.

She was still pale. Still thin. But her eyes?

They weren’t empty anymore.

I turned toward the door and pulled it open. Cassandra stood there, arms crossed, lips curled into her usual smirk.

“There you are,” she scoffed, looking me up and down like I was something pathetic. “Took you long enough. Hurry up and make breakfast before Mom starts yelling.”

The old Clarisse would have bowed her head. She would have muttered a weak apology.

But I wasn’t the old Clarisse.

I stepped past her without a word. No slouching. No shrinking back. Just silence.

I felt her freeze. She wasn’t expecting that.

I made my way down the stairs, ignoring the heavy feeling in my limbs. Every movement was exhausting, but I refused to show weakness.

The dining table was already set for the family—except for me, of course. Another memory surfaced. Clarisse never ate with them. She cooked their meals, cleaned up after them, and if she was lucky, she got scraps.

Not today.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plate.

“Hey,” a sharp voice called behind me. My mother. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I turned to her.

She was seated at the head of the table, her gaze as cold as I remembered. The kind of mother who only saw me as a burden.

I met her eyes, calm and steady. “Getting my food.”

The room fell silent.

Clarisse had never dared to answer back before.

I saw the flicker of surprise in my mother’s face, but she masked it with irritation. “You eat when we say you can.”

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. Let the games begin.

---

A heavy silence filled the room.

The old Clarisse would have lowered her gaze. She would’ve stepped back, apologized, and accepted her place as the family’s invisible servant.

But I wasn’t her.

I tightened my grip on the plate, standing firm. “I cooked this food,” I said, my voice steady. “So, I’ll eat.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed. Across the table, my father set down his newspaper, finally acknowledging my existence. Cassandra and my younger brother, Marcus, stared at me like I had lost my mind.

“What did you just say?” my mother asked, her voice sharp.

I met her gaze without flinching. “I said I’ll eat.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You have some nerve.”

Marcus snickered. “Wow. Since when did you grow a backbone?”

Cassandra let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “This is pathetic. Just give it up, Clarisse. You’re not one of us.”

I had expected that response. I had seen it all before—mockery, belittling, and constant reminders that I wasn’t worthy.

But this time, it didn’t sting.

I simply tilted my head. “If I’m not one of you, then why am I the one cooking for you?”

That wiped the smirk off her face.

I turned back to the table and calmly placed food on my plate, ignoring the tension crackling in the air. My hands were still weak, my body barely holding itself together, but my mind was sharp.

My father finally spoke. “You’re getting too bold for your own good, Clarisse.” His tone was firm, filled with warning.

I stabbed a piece of egg with my fork. “Maybe I’m just done being silent.”

Cassandra scoffed, but I didn’t miss the flicker of confusion in her expression. The shift in me wasn’t something they had expected.

Good.

I needed to unsettle them.

I needed them to realize that Clarisse was no longer the same girl they could step on.

With quiet confidence, I took a bite of my food, chewing slowly as my family watched me like I had grown a second head.

Let them stare.

Let them wonder.

This was just the beginning.

---

The air in the dining room was thick with tension. My family wasn’t used to this—to me speaking up, to me existing in a way that wasn’t weak and invisible.

I continued eating, unfazed by their stares. The food wasn’t even that good—too salty, too oily—but I ate it anyway. Because for the first time, I wasn’t waiting for permission.

I wasn’t going to starve just because they wanted me to.

My mother set down her spoon with a loud clank, her patience clearly running thin. “Since when did you develop such an attitude?” she asked, her voice sharp and demanding.

I met her gaze, chewing slowly before swallowing. “I’m just eating, Mom.”

Cassandra let out a small laugh. “Right. And tomorrow, what? You’ll start sitting with us in the living room? Acting like you actually belong?”

I smirked. “Maybe.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Tch. This is stupid.”

I could feel their irritation growing, but that was exactly what I wanted. I wasn’t here to please them anymore. I was here to make them uncomfortable.

My father exhaled loudly, folding his newspaper. “Enough. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” He stood up, grabbing his briefcase. “Cassandra, Marcus—let’s go. We’ll be late.”

Cassandra scoffed and pushed her chair back. “Whatever.” She shot me a final glare before following him. Marcus grabbed a slice of bread and stuffed it in his mouth before trailing after them.

That left just me and my mother.

She stayed seated, watching me with cold, calculating eyes. I could tell she was trying to figure me out—trying to understand what had changed.

She hated it.

She hated that I wasn’t scared anymore.

I placed my spoon down, tilting my head. “Are you going to leave, too? Or are you planning to sit there and watch me all morning?”

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t like my tone.

“You think this attitude will get you anywhere?” she asked.

I smiled, slow and deliberate. “It already has.”

Her fingers tightened around her teacup, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she stood up gracefully, fixing her dress. “Don’t forget to clean up,” she said flatly before walking away.

I watched her leave, listening to the sound of her heels clicking against the floor.

Then, finally, I exhaled.

My body was still weak. My muscles ached. My hands trembled slightly from the effort of standing my ground. But my mind—my mind was stronger than ever.

This was just the first step.

They still saw me as Clarisse, the weak and pathetic daughter.

But soon, they would realize.

The real Clarisse is gone.

And I was never going to be their puppet again.

---

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***