Ella is a liar.
"My stepmother is cruel," she said. "My two stepsisters are evil too." What kind of nonsense is that?
Do you believe all of it? Yes, maybe right now I look like a heartless, cruel woman in your eyes, but do you know what rotten things Ella has done to me and my two daughters?
I often received reprimands from several of Ella's teachers and also her homeroom teacher, during report card days or annual parent meetings. They blamed me for things I had never done at all.
"Ella often forgets to do her homework," the teachers said. And then they blamed me.
I don't understand. They said Ella turned out that way because I tortured her every night. That I forced her to cook, didn't give her enough dinner, locked her up and made her sleep in the cold underground storage room. Without giving her time or the chance to study. Such absurd lies. I don't understand how educated teachers like them could so easily believe gossip spread by my own stepdaughter, Ella.
Does my face really look that cruel, Inspector?
Do I look like a mother who enjoys torturing a young girl just because she's my stepdaughter? Just because she doesn't share my blood?
No. No. I'm not that kind of person, Inspector. Let me state this clearly once again. I never tortured Ella. I never forced her to sleep in the storage room. I always gave her enough food. I loved that girl, just as much as I loved my own biological daughters.
Those rumors are not true. The terrible things Ella said about me and my daughters were nothing but lies.
Yes, maybe not all of them were lies.
I remember the teachers also once said that Ella was often late for school. The reason? Because I, as her stepmother, always told her to clean the house first before leaving.
That one might actually be true. Ella's homeroom teacher reprimanded me with an overly sympathetic expression, and I didn't deny it. Not to torture or bully her, of course I had good reasons.
No matter what, I wanted my daughter to grow into an independent woman. I remember asking Ella to clean up the dirty breakfast plates from the dining table and put them in the kitchen sink. Or most often, I asked her to help water the plants in the backyard. In my opinion, those were light household chores and perfectly reasonable for a girl Ella's age.
Of course, I also paid attention to the time. I knew when Ella had to leave for school. At nine in the morning, the school gate would be closed. I always warned her to leave thirty minutes earlier. With that much time, I was sure Ella wouldn't be late for school. She shouldn't have been.
"Then why was Ella often late?" you ask?
I don't… I don't know, Inspector. I was also surprised and didn't know what to say when the teachers and her homeroom teacher told me that. Sometimes, I myself couldn't understand my stepdaughter's behavior.
Ella still hadn't accepted me as her stepmother. I understood that. But how long was it supposed to last?
I always tried, Inspector. Do you know how hard I tried to soften that girl's heart? I was ready to give her anything, if only she asked. New clothes, maybe? Or a bag? Shoes, or books she wanted, I would happily buy them for her. I was also ready to be someone she could confide in when she was sad about her grades dropping or teenage romance problems. I was ready to listen.
Unfortunately, Ella never asked for anything from me. "I don't want anything," she said. "No need." Every time I wanted to buy her something, that girl always refused.
The same went for our conversations. Let alone confiding, the responses she gave when I tried to talk to her were never far from a short "yes" or "no." A nod or a shake of the head. There was never a long conversation between me and Ella.
I thought that by asking Ella to do some household chores, our family relationship could become closer. You know, like a mother and child who help each other. Ella sweeping, me mopping. Or Ella washing dishes, me cooking. I thought that by doing housework together like that, Ella might become more open to me.
As a mother, I wanted to build a harmonious family. A healthy family, one that was close and affectionate. I dreamed of a house filled with laughter. Drizella, Anastasia, and Ella, I wanted to see them grow up together, have dinner together, talk about first loves or boys who caught their attention, talk about the latest clothes and shoes, talk about makeup, hairstyles, skincare, like teenage girls usually do. I wanted my daughters to share warm smiles with each other.
I knew it was difficult, especially in Ella's eyes, where I was nothing more than a stepmother who suddenly entered her family. I understood that. However, I couldn't forgive Ella for slandering me and my daughters. I couldn't accept it. I had endured it long enough, and my patience had overflowed past its limit.
With a heavy heart, I admit it, Inspector.
That night, I killed Ella.
***