The Sister-In-Law Season 2 - Episode 17 – The Echo Chamber

 

It started over dinner. Rita was talking about redecorating the living room, her eyes bright with a domestic glow that made Daniel’s skin crawl. She pointed to a neutral beige swatch. “This would warm up the space, don’t you think? Make it feel more like a home.”

Daniel’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “That’s the exact color Eleanor painted her study.”

The light in Rita’s eyes died. She recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “What? No, it’s not. I just liked it.”

“Is it?” he pressed, his voice cold. “Or is it her? Are you here, Rita, or is she just speaking through you? Because I’m not sure I can tell the difference anymore.” The accusation hung in the air, ugly and suffocating. He saw the flicker of his own paranoia and hated it, but he couldn’t stop it.

A few days later, Daniel came home to find a large, flat package propped against the wall. It was an abstract painting, all violent slashes of red and gold. He stared at it, a sick feeling churning in his gut. He knew that style. He walked into the kitchen where Rita was unpacking groceries. “Where did you get it?”

Her back stiffened. “It’s a housewarming gift. From my mother.”

He saw red. “You spoke to her? After everything? You took a gift from her?”

“She’s trying, Daniel!” Rita spun around, her face flushed with a mixture of defiance and desperation. “She’s trying to make things right! Can’t you just let it go?”

“Let it go?” he laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “She bought you a painting, Rita. She didn’t buy you a painting, she bought a listening device. A reminder. She’s marking her territory. And you let her in. You welcomed her back into our lives.”

“It’s not our lives, it’s your obsession!” she screamed, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “You won, Daniel! She’s gone! But you’re still fighting her in your head, and you’re dragging me down with you!”

That night, the silence between them was a physical presence. Daniel couldn’t stand it. He walked into the living room and stared at the painting. It was Eleanor. It was her arrogance, her control, her victory, hanging on his wall. With a roar of pure, unadulterated rage, he grabbed the nearest lamp and smashed it into the canvas. He tore it from the wall, his hands ripping at the stretched fabric, the wood frame splintering in his grip. He didn’t stop until it was a pile of shredded canvas and broken wood on the floor.

He stood there, chest heaving, surrounded by the wreckage. Rita stood in the doorway, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. It wasn’t just a painting he had destroyed. It was any hope they had of a normal life. He had finally stopped fighting Eleanor, but in doing so, he had become the monster she always claimed he was, and he had destroyed the only thing left that was worth saving.

The war is over, but the battlefield is his own home. Daniel has exorcised the ghost, but in doing so, he may have destroyed the woman he fought to keep. Is there anything left to save?