On the day of my birthday, my cousin, who does ballet, falls and injures her leg.

My father smacks my leg with a club in a fit of rage. I cry out in pain, but he doesn't care. He sneers and says, "Now, you know how it feels! Why didn't you stop to think how much pain your cousin would be in when you pushed her and made her fall down the stairs?"

He hits me with all his might until I can't make any more sounds. To drive the lesson home, he shoves me into the basement, uncaring that I'm on the brink of death.

"I'll let you out of there once you stop thinking these dirty thoughts, Yvonne!"

But when he opens the door to the basement once more, all he sees is my decomposing corpse.

When I regained consciousness, I saw my father walking toward me.

I froze in place, unsure of how to react.

It was only when he walked through me that I realized that he couldn't see me.

"Happy birthday, Queenie!"

I watched as he patted my cousin, Queenie Anderson's head with a smile and handed her a prettily wrapped-up gift.

"Thank you, Uncle Ben!"

Queenie's birthday was seven days after mine.

All of a sudden, it dawned on me that I had been dead for seven days.

My family sat around a beautiful cake, celebrating Queenie's birthday.

They laughed and spoke to each other merrily.

It didn't seem to make a difference to them whether I was there or not.

Even when we were kids, Queenie's birthday had been a momentous occasion.

No one ever wanted to mention or care about mine.

Queenie was just about to blow out her candles when my aunt, Caroline Johnson, asked casually, "Where's Yvonne, Benjamin? Why isn't she here?"

My father frowned in disgust when he heard my name. "She hurt Queenie, so I told her off. Now she's off sulking somewhere."

Aunt Caroline looked worried. "Were you too harsh on her? Yvonne's always been well-behaved. She wouldn't have run off without telling anyone."

However, Dad was unconcerned. "I just locked her up for a couple of days. She was let out a few days ago. If anything, I should've given her a harsher punishment!"

What he called a telling-off was something I would never be able to forget.

That night, he had come to me holding a thick baton and questioned me coldly. "Why did you push Queenie down the stairs?"

I was trembling with fear, but still, I gritted my teeth and explained, "I didn't push her, Dad. She fell down herself!"

He brought down the baton on my leg abruptly.

I screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground on my knees.

Dad scoffed impatiently. "Now you know how much it hurts! Why didn't you think of that when you pushed Queenie down the stairs?"

He rained blows on me, one after another, yet I bit my lip and refused to admit to anything.

The more I resisted, the angrier he got, and the harder the blows.

When he finally stopped, I was in so much pain that even my insides felt numb.

I couldn't speak. Dad took that as defiance.

He threw me into the basement, even though I was close to death.

It was dark and cramped in the basement. He tossed me onto the ground like I was a bag of trash.

I was claustrophobic. Frightened, I began to shake uncontrollably. "Dad… Dad, please don't lock me up in here!"

However, there was no sympathy in his eyes. He looked at me with cold indifference and hatred.

Shaking my hand off, he looked down at me. "I'll let you out when you stop having evil thoughts, Yvonne Linnus!"

Then, he turned and left, closing the only door to the basement without hesitation.

Darkness enveloped me. In pain and despair, I closed my eyes.

I didn't actually know how I died.

The last thing I remembered was the dark basement; ever since then, my consciousness had been hazy.

I thought that my life had ended at 18.

I didn't know that souls could still linger after death.

Aunt Caroline fell silent when she saw the obvious anger on Dad's face.

He was the head of the Linnus family, so no one dared to cross him when he was angry.

Queenie was the only exception. Eyes bright, she tugged on his hand and said, "Don't be angry, Uncle Ben. It's not good for your health to get so worked up!"

The ice on Dad's face melted immediately. "How considerate of you, Queenie. If only Yvonne could learn from you!"

I'd heard that multiple times ever since Queenie joined our family.

She had always acted considerate and kind. Was this what Dad wanted?

Little did he know of the evilness she was hiding behind that kind and gentle façade.

When I was seven, Dad brought Queenie home.

She said that she liked my room, so I was kicked out and sent to sleep in the guest room.

Every day, Dad personally drove her to and from school.

During parent-teacher conferences, he chose to go to her class instead of mine.

Eventually, I became known to my classmates as a bastard with no parents.

Aunt Caroline had complained on my behalf before, saying that Dad shouldn't be so biased.

However, Dad just said matter-of-factly, "Queenie lost her parents when she was young. What a poor child—how could I not take extra care of her?"

He seemed to have forgotten that I had lost my mother at a young age too.

Meanwhile, Queenie, whom he'd called obedient and well-behaved, had come into my room on my birthday and stolen the necklace that Mom had left me.

I caught up to her at the top of the stairs on the second floor. She raised the necklace in front of me with a sinister expression. "You want this necklace, don't you, Yvonne?"

I clenched my fists and tried to hold in my anger. "What do you want?"

She smiled and ripped the necklace apart.

"No!" I lunged at her, but I didn't manage to touch her.

Queenie took a step back and fell down the stairs.

When I saw the triumphant smile on her face, I realised that I had fallen into her trap.

As expected, Dad did not even bother to ask what happened. He just slapped me across the face.

Then, without sparing me a second glance, he picked Queenie up and rushed her to the nearest hospital.

I clutched my numb face and smiled bitterly. She didn't need to do all that. Given Dad's fondness for her, I posed no threat to her at all.

When Dad hit me with the baton until my liver ruptured and my ribs fractured, I finally understood that she was just trying to prove to me how cruel he could be toward me.

She had said so at 12 years old when she tore up the letter I wrote to Dad. "Uncle Ben is mine and mine alone! He hates you. You'll never take him from me!"

My family wrapped up Queenie's birthday celebration in joy.

Before she left, Aunt Caroline couldn't help herself. She said to Dad softly, "Has something happened to Yvonne? Maybe you should go look for her."

Dad paused. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, his face hardened. "What could happen to her? She might as well die far away from here. Saves me the annoyance of seeing her around!"

Aunt Caroline opened her mouth to say something, but in the end, she just sighed and left.

I tried to leave as well, to go back to the basement, but try as I might, I couldn't do it. I seemed to be trapped by Dad's side.

That night, Queenie knocked on Dad's door with a cup of tea in her hand. "Uncle Ben, I'm performing in two ballet competitions tomorrow. Do you have time to come watch?" she asked timidly as she placed the tea on the desk.

Before Dad could answer, she shook her head. "Never mind, I know you're busy. I shouldn't have said anything."

She had always been good at acting aggrieved.

Sure enough, Dad immediately stood up, smiling. "Of course I will attend your competitions!"

He never could refuse Queenie's requests.

As for me, he always thought that I was being unreasonable.

One time, I had broken my arm at school, so my teacher had called him to come pick me up.

It had been the first and only time I had called him from school. However, all I got was his angry voice. "It's just a small injury, Yvonne. I've already told you that I'm busy. Don't bother me unless it's something serious!"

His impatient voice echoed in the school clinic.

I sat there stunned, not knowing how to respond to the pity in the teacher's eyes.

My eyes strained as I fought not to let my tears fall.

Queenie returned to her room with a skip in her steps.

I followed her into the room that was once mine.

The room that Mom had decorated for me no longer looked the same.

Queenie lay on the bed and called someone eagerly. "Hey, that old coot Benjamin Linnus agreed!"

The person on the other end said something. Queenie sneered in response. "You really didn't let that tart Yvonne out?"

A chill ran through me at those words.

…

The next day, Dad drove Queenie to her competition.

During the journey, Dad seemed distracted. He kept glancing at his phone, but he did not do anything.

I floated over and saw my name displayed on the screen.

Was Dad thinking about calling me?

As if reading my mind, he grabbed his phone and placed the call.

"Sorry, the number you are calling is…"

Before the automated message ended, Dad hung up. His expression was dark, his brows furrowed in anger.

It was probably because I'd never missed his calls before.

But I was dead now. I would never be able to answer his calls again.

This small incident did not affect his mood.

As the spotlight turned on, Queenie appeared on stage like an elegant swan.

Dad stared at her intently, admiration filling his eyes.

Aunt Caroline had once told me that Mom had been a good ballet dancer when she was alive.

I had imagined myself dancing on stage countless times as well.

However, Dad had crushed my dreams with a single sentence. He had given me a cold look. "You're never going to dance classes. That's disgusting!"

For Queenie, however, he spared no expense in hiring the best ballet teacher. He even set up a practice room just for her.

My heart ached as I watched Queenie shine onstage.

When the competition ended, Dad planned to bring her out for a grand meal as a reward.

Just as they left the hall, Aunt Caroline called Dad, her voice all choked up. "Benjamin! No matter how much you dislike her, Yvonne's still your daughter, the child you fathered with Julia! How could you beat her up?"

Dad's face twisted with fury at the mention of my mother's name. "She killed Julia. She killed her own mother! I don't have a daughter that cruel!

"Besides, she pushed Queenie down the stairs. If I didn't beat her and teach her a lesson, she might end up murdering someone!"

Tears blurred my vision. I'd always known that Dad blamed me for Mom's death, but I didn't know that he loathed me that much.

Did you know, Dad? If I could turn back time, I would choose to die in her place.

After a long silence, Aunt Caroline said between sobs, "But you can't… you can't just beat her to death like that!"

Dad froze.

I watched him intently, hoping to see a hint of concern or panic.

However, all I got was his cold rebuke. "You should be old enough to know not to play along with her schemes. She's being immature. Why are you enabling her?"

He spoke loudly, drawing glances from the people around us.

As whispers rustled through the crowd, Aunt Caroline said weakly, "Yvonne's body is in your house. Just come back and see for yourself whether we're scheming or not."

With that, she hung up.

Dad stood frozen on the spot, unmoving.

Queenie asked tentatively, "Maybe we should go back and take a look, Uncle Ben."

Dad seemed to snap back to his senses. "Sure! I want to see whether she's really dead or not!" he said impatiently.

Soon, they arrived back at the Linnus residence.

As soon as he got out of the car, Dad stormed into the living room angrily.

When he saw Aunt Caroline kneeling on the ground and crying uncontrollably, he stopped abruptly.

In front of her lay my body, so rotted that it was almost unrecognizable.