My sister and I got into a car crash. My heart was ruptured, and I needed immediate surgery if I were to live.

My mother, being the director of her hospital, sent all the doctors to my sister instead, all just to check on her. She barely got hurt.

I pleaded and begged for my mother to save me, but impatience got the better of her. She roared, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!"

And I died. I remember where it was. It was a freezing operating theater.

Unfair Parents

Moments before my death, my soul drifted toward my mother. My mother was right beside my sister, worry etched on her face. She prayed, "Leila, you'll be alright. You'll be alright. Please wake up."

"I can't believe Sheila didn't even keep an eye on her. She had one job!" My father was furious. "That heartless girl! I'm going to kill her!"

I watched the whole thing unfold, my heart—if souls had heart—filled with bitterness. No, my father didn't have to do anything. I was dead. Their apathy killed me.

The hospital's doctors surrounded Leila Greenhorn's bed. They made sure she was fine besides a few scratched bones, and an older doctor said carefully, "Are you sure we can ignore Sheila, ma'am? The car crash hit her hard, too."

My mother's concern turned into disgust. She roared, "What is she up to this time? Faking her death again? Does she even have any idea how much she's hurt her sister?"

I stared at my mother, and pain stabbed my cold, dead heart. I was her daughter, too, yet she didn't seem to care about me.

Then, my mother grabbed her phone and called me. A nurse held the phone closer to my ear. I was hoping for concern. A hint of worry, at least, but instead, all I got was an insult. "When are you going to get over here, Sheila? Apologize to your sister!"

And my heart went cold. I lost the last sliver of hope I had for my mother.

She never cared about me. I should've seen that coming. When we were taken to the hospital, I begged for her help, but all she had to say was, "This isn't the time to take any attention away from your sister! She almost had a bone fracture!"

She then led all the hospital's doctors to tend to my sister. Of course, she had no time for me. She had no love for me.

Even the nurse thought this was absurd. "Ma'am, she's going to die."

My mother, adamant that I was just messing around, sneered. "How much did that bastard pay you for this act? I can't believe that she can go this far."

And then, Leila woke up from her fake faint. Weakly, she said, "Dad, Mom, how's Sheila?"

My mother looked at her sweet little daughter, and the disgust on her face turned heavier. "Honestly, Sheila, grow up. Look at your sister. She's still worried about you even after you hurt her. You have three minutes. Either you get over here and apologize to your sister, or you're never seeing me again."

My mother hung up, her chest heaving from rage. My father was displeased. "Why do you want her here? She has hurt Leila enough."

Leila hid away her smug look and hung her head low. Then, she put on a mask of guilt and looked at our parents. "It's alright, you two. She's upset about me taking her chance to study abroad. I can understand why she's mad."

That was laughable. Even when I was dead, sister dearest still tried to drive the wedge between me and my parents deeper.

I didn't expect my folks to see through her act, of course. She was the perfect child in their eyes. She could do no wrong, while I was a problem child.

Naturally, they would never expect the car crash to be an orchestrated event, all thanks to their dear daughter.

Bound Soul

My mother's face fell. "She doesn't need that chance. I bet going abroad is just going to turn her already dark heart darker."

Leila said sweetly, "Please, Mom, it's alright. I know she did this for a reason."

My mother looked at her gently. "You're a sweet girl. That little witch took advantage of you."

Leila had the knack of saying what my parents wanted to hear the most. Even if I were to come back to life and tell my parents about all the evil things Leila did, they would only slap me in return and call me a lying witch who was jealous of my sister.

Well, I was used to the treatment, anyway.

Then, my brother, Harold Greenhorn, came storming into the room and checked on Leila. The moment he was hit with the news, he booked the next flight back home and didn't stop until he got here.

Like our parents, Leila was the only one he cared about. He eventually confirmed that Leila was fine, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Then, his face took on a mask of fury.

"I told you Sheila's a curse on our family. She's been attacking Leila ever since she was born!"

Leila, in a cloying voice, pleaded, "It's alright, Harold. I know she didn't hurt me on purpose."

The family was livid. My father slammed the table. "How dare she hurt you?"

My mother gnashed her teeth. "That little bastard! I'll kill her!"

There was venom in Harold's eyes. I swore he would have ripped me to pieces if he could.

Leila's heart skipped a beat. She was worried they might see through her act if she went overboard. Quickly, she added, "Please don't get mad at Sheila. Maybe I was imagining things. She is still my sister. She would never have hurt me."

Harold poked her forehead lovingly. "This is why you're hurt. You trust people too easily."

"Oh, I'm so lucky I have you as my daughter. Fine, alright. We'll leave her to fate. You just need to rest up," my mother said.

The soft rays of the setting sun shone into the room, showering Leila's bed with the evening's warmth. I watched the family—my family—share a tender moment together, yet all I could taste was bitterness.

My soul didn't belong here. I was not a part of this family, perhaps. They saw me as nothing more than a stray. I wanted to run, to escape, yet my soul was bound to my mother's vicinity. I couldn't speak or even defend myself against their insults.

Abusive Parents

A few days later, Leila was discharged, all thanks to her family's meticulous care. My mother was helping her pack things up, while my father was already waiting outside the hospital in his car. He didn't want her to walk even one step more than necessary. Harold even helped her put on her shoes. He didn't want her tiring herself out.

On their way back, my mother grumbled, "I can't believe Sheila didn't even show up. Her own sister is getting discharged. And she didn't even apologize! I'm going to give her a piece of my mind when we get home!"

My father looked at her. "Told you keeping her around would be bad for us."

My mother wanted to give me a piece of her mind? Honestly, that brought back a lot of memories. Since we were kids, my mother had always expected me to bend over backwards for Leila. That girl was her golden child.

The reason? She was born early, and it was my fault, apparently, since I knocked over a glass of water and my mother slipped and fell. Leila had to be put in an incubator, and it broke my family's heart.

My father slapped me so hard, my eardrums popped. "You're a curse on our family! You almost killed your sister, and she just came to this world!"

My mother was in bed, but she opened her eyes weakly, and there was only disappointment in her gaze.

When we were in elementary school, I fought Leila over a doll, and my father beat me up so hard, I couldn't get out of bed for days. That doll was my favorite toy. Yes, it was something my father bought as an afterthought after he got Leila her gift, but I treasured it anyway.

Halfway through our fight, Leila suddenly screamed and cried her heart out. My mother quickly hugged her. Through her tears, she roared, "Your sister went through hell because of you, girl! What more do you want from her?"

"I didn't—"

Before I could even finish, Leila started shedding tears—fake ones, of course—and sobbed, "It's alright, Mom. I shouldn't have fought Sheila over a toy."

My father got back home, and he grabbed me like I was a chick and smacked me around like a ragdoll. "You're a cold-blooded snake. I should throw you out right now! You're going to ruin us sooner or later!"

I was bawling my eyes out, begging for my father to stop, but that only made him think I was putting on an act.

The abuse got worse, naturally. My mother and Harold only watched it go on. They didn't even want to help. Maybe they wanted my father to kill me. Maybe they hated my guts.

From that day onward, every time I made Leila cry, my parents would yell at me and then put their hands on me. Eventually, I would stop trying to take away any love they had for Leila or hoping they would have eyes on me.

I never tried to explain myself, nor did I try to get close to them. And now, they left me behind in a freezing operating theater.