She walked out the bedroom door. She was completely oblivious to the destruction she had caused.

I did not cry. I did not scream. The silence in the room was heavier than the ruined silk in my hands. Something cracked. Not broke. Cracked. Like a windshield.

I looked down at the shredded dress. Beside the closet door, plugged directly into the wall outlet, was a small, cube-shaped security camera.

I had installed it 6 months ago to watch my rescue cat while I was at work. I had completely forgotten about it.

I did not have a cat problem. I had an Amanda problem.

My hands were shaking as I pulled up the security app on my phone. I rewound the recorded footage to exactly 20 minutes ago.

Amanda had not accidentally left the closet door open for the cat.

I watched the crystal-clear, high-definition video on my screen. I watched my older sister deliberately walk into my room. I watched her pull a heavy pair of metal kitchen shears from her large purse. I watched her unzip the garment bag.

Then I watched her spend 5 solid minutes violently, aggressively slashing my custom silk gown. She hacked at the lace sleeves. She ripped the bodice. She destroyed a $5,000 piece of art with a terrifying, blank expression on her face, simply because her ego could not handle not being the center of attention.

I picked up the slashed silk. I picked up my phone. And I dialed the police.

“City Police Dispatch, how can I help you?” a polite voice answered.

“Yes,” I said, my voice perfectly steady. “I need to report felony destruction of property and vandalism. I have high-definition video evidence of a woman maliciously destroying a custom item valued at exactly $5,000.”

The dispatcher paused. “Ma’am, do you know the identity of the perpetrator?”

“Yes,” I said. “She is my sister. And she is currently shopping at the central mall.”

2 hours later, I sat on my bed. The torn garment bag rested on my lap. I watched the clock on my nightstand. I waited patiently.

Then, my phone buzzed aggressively. It was my mother.

I answered it. She was screaming hysterically.

“Chloe! What did you do?!” my mother shrieked into the phone, her voice cracking with panic. “Amanda just called me from the back of a police cruiser! They arrested her right inside the shoe store! They put her in handcuffs in front of everyone! They said she destroyed your dress! Tell them it is a mistake! Tell them to drop the charges right now!”