Chapter 1

1

My sister Bridget pulled a knife during an armed mugging, and we ended up in a desperate struggle.

My mother, a reserve deputy, arrived at the scene and immediately fired her gun, shooting straight through my lung.

I collapsed into a puddle of blood, desperately begging her to save my life.

Instead, she wrapped Bridget in a tight hug and screamed at me with tears in her eyes. "You actually pulled a blade on your own sister just to steal my attention? How did I raise such a heartless monster!"

She was convinced I was the attacker. Ignoring my desperate pleas, she rushed Bridget to the hospital for a tiny scratch.

Later that night, I took my last breath alone in that pitch-black alley.

When the news of my death reached my mother, she assumed it was just another pathetic lie. She pointed at my corpse and ordered me to stand up and apologize to my sister.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was not in the fiery underworld described in fairy tales.

All I saw was my mother, waiting anxiously in a brightly lit hospital room.

She was hovering over Bridget, who had just woken up in the hospital bed.

"Bridget, sweetie, how are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

A wave of tender concern washed over her face, a face that had only ever shown me cold indifference.

That gentle, maternal warmth was something I had spent my entire life begging for, yet never received.

Bridget shifted weakly, shrinking into our mother's arms with a few soft coughs.

"I feel a little better... Mom, where is Rosie? How is she? Is she still mad at me?"

"I know she has always hated me, but I really do not understand why she attacked me..."

"Did I do something wrong? I am so sorry..."

She lowered her head, her long eyelashes fluttering before tears rolled down her cheeks, making her look utterly helpless.

The moment my mother heard my name, her expression twisted with pure disgust.

"Do not talk nonsense! That selfish, lying brat will say anything to tear you down!"

"She just wanted to ruin your life. A robbery? It was obvious she staged the entire scene herself!"

The deep hatred in her eyes was impossible to hide.

Even though I was already dead, a sharp ache pierced right through my phantom chest.

It felt like a jagged blade twisting inside me, leaving me breathless.

How tragic it was for a mother to have so little faith in her own flesh and blood.

Catching our mother's contempt, a faint, hidden smirk flickered across Bridget's lips.

Still, she kept up her generous, obedient facade.

"Rosie is right. I am just a burden in this family... I only bring trouble to everyone."

"I will do whatever it takes, as long as she forgives me."

Seeing how reasonable Bridget appeared, and remembering how I had cried for help in front of everyone, my mother lost her temper.

She slammed her coffee mug onto the floor, shattering it into pieces.

"You are far too soft-hearted, which is why she walks all over you!"

"She tried to harm you, and you are still defending her! What did I do to deserve an angel like you?"

I stared blankly at my blood-soaked clothes.

A wave of bitter irony washed over me.

In my mother's eyes, I had always been worthless trash.

My mind drifted back to those final moments in the dark alley.

Bridget had plunged a knife straight into my stomach, catching me completely off guard with her cruelty.

Just as darkness began creeping into my vision, my mother arrived with a squad of officers.

Before I could even scream for help, she walked right past my bleeding body.

Her only concern was checking her precious younger daughter for scratches.

"Rosie! Have you lost your damn mind? You know how fragile Bridget is! Why are you terrifying her?"

Fragile? She was bold enough to commit murder, yet our mother called her fragile!

I had no strength left to argue, terrified by the cold reality of my life draining away.

I reached out a trembling, bloody hand, begging for mercy.

"Mom, please... save me first. If you save me, I will do anything you want..."

"I am really going to die..."

With multiple deep wounds across my torso, every shallow breath brought excruciating agony.

Yet, staring down at my battered, crimson-soaked body, my mother only sneered.

She kicked me hard in the ribs.

"Stop playing dead! You are just jealous that Bridget is sweeter and better behaved than you!"

"Do you think I cannot see right through your pathetic games? Get the hell up and apologize to your sister!"