Chapter 1 Chapter 1

I walked out of the hospital in silence, holding a psychometric evaluation report. I had been diagnosed with depression. The doctor tried his best to comfort me, saying, "Even though you have severe depression, you'll be fine as long as you keep up with therapy." I nodded, staring at my feet. My mother's anxious expression appeared in my mind's eye. She never liked mentally ill people like me. "You've been neglecting your mental health for too long, so I recommend getting help from your family." Even as the doctor spoke, he seemed to sense my aversion to the suggestion. I hid the report away and returned home quietly. Mom was cooking in the kitchen. She frowned when she saw me. "Your teacher called and said that you did not attend your dance class today. What happened?" I did not answer her question. Instead, I said softly, "Mom." Then, I tried to hug her, but she pushed me away and began scolding me. She admonished me for everything I'd ever done, from the time I gave up on the piano when I was young to a particular dance that I couldn't seem to master. She ended the rant with, "No dinner for you tonight!" I kept my head low. I was used to this. "No dinner" was Mom's usual punishment for me whenever I did something wrong. When my father came home in the evening, Mom told him what I had done. "You brat. You've gotten insolent!" he scolded me, jabbing a finger in my face. He never asked me for a reason, siding with Mom without any hesitation. Mom began crying as well. "We worked so hard to raise you. Why can't you do better?" For once, I did not keep my silence. "Mom, do you really love me?" Mom was taken aback for a moment. When she recovered, she called me an ingrate. She thought I was talking back to her. That night, I stared at the ceiling of my room as tears fell uncontrollably from my eyes. Then, I glanced at the pen on my desk. It would be fine. My heart wouldn't hurt so much soon. Numbly, I picked up the pen and scratched long, bloody wounds on my arm. I decided to do as the doctor advised. At breakfast, I gathered my courage and told my parents about my condition. "It's not that serious. The doctor said I can be cured…" Mom did not even wait for me to finish. "What depression? How can you have depression? If anything, I should be the one who's depressed! Did we treat you badly? Why are you punishing us like this?" I immediately fell silent. Like I was a child who had been caught doing something wrong, I rubbed my hands together nervously. For a moment, I felt as if I had been transported back into my childhood. Back then, Mom would lock me outside the house and slap me until my cheeks swelled up right in front of all the neighbors, just because I hadn't gotten full marks in my exams. Mom started questioning me sharply. She asked which hospital I went to, and what kind of immoral doctor would scheme with a child a mere child to cheat her family out of money. "We paid for you to go to school so that you would learn something. You're just enjoying your life in school. What's there to be depressed about?" she kept saying. The repetitive scolding made me cover my ears, wrapping my arms around myself. That only made Mom even angrier. She pulled my hands away from my ears. "Stop pretending!" Just then, the door opened. The sound of wheels rolling over the ground sounded. My sister, Yvonne Skye, was home. She glared at me and hurried over to comfort Mom, who was crying. "What did you do this time, Yvette? Why did you make Mom angry again?" I wanted to deny it, but when I heard her hateful glare, my words died in my throat. Nothing I said ever mattered, anyway. Mom finally found herself a helper. She told Yvonne about my diagnosis, exaggerating the story as she did so. "Depression?" Yvonne scoffed. "I think you just have too much time on your hands." She sat in her wheelchair and pushed me several times. I finally erupted. I grabbed her hand and snapped, "Leave me alone!" I had always been weak and spineless, so all of us were shocked at my sudden outburst.

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Mom came back to her senses first. She pulled me away. "How dare you, Yvette Skye? You wouldn't be here if it weren't for your sister!" Both of them looked at me with hate and disbelief in their eyes. They did not seem to think that anything was wrong with the way they were treating me. I lowered my hand to my sides tiredly. Mom was right. My birth was a mistake from the start, especially where Yvonne was concerned. When Yvonne was born, Mom had high hopes for her. She wanted her to become a dancer, as it was her own unrealized dream. Yvonne hadn't disappointed her. She was talented at dancing. Even her teacher said that she would be able to become a world-class dancer if she continued working hard. Mom had been ecstatic at the time. She had brought Yvonne out to buy her some new clothes. It was then that tragedy struck; a car lost control and barrelled toward Mom. It was Yvonne who had pushed her away and saved her life, sacrificing herself in return. She collapsed in a pool of blood and was rushed to the hospital. Even so, the doctors still weren't able to save her legs. At the hospital, Mom also found out that she was two months pregnant with me. Dad did not want her to give birth to me, as he was afraid that Yvonne would be upset. After multiple arguments, I was born. I had always known, even from a young age, that I wasn't wanted. My birth was nothing but stubbornness on Mom's part. I had no right to resist. If I explained myself, they would take it as talking back. If I kept silent, I was sulking. If I didn't do well in my studies, I was useless, and if I cried, I was dramatic. "Everyone else is fine. Why are you the only one depressed?" Mom said as she locked me up. The room was dark, with only a red light flashing every so often in the corner. I could hear the mechanical sound of a camera turning back and forth. I knew that Mom was watching me. I curled up in a corner, hugging my knees to my chest. I hated this room more than anywhere else in the world, yet this was the room that I was most often in. Every time I disappointed Mom, she would throw me into this room and lock me up until her anger subsided. Once, she locked me up for three whole days. The entire family seemed to have forgotten about me. No matter how much I cried and screamed, they ignored me. When they finally opened the door, I had already passed out, barely alive. … It was fine. It wouldn't be so bad if I just fell asleep. The next second, I blacked out. When I woke up again, I found myself in a hospital room. There were bandages wrapped around my head, and my cheeks were stinging in pain. What had happened? The room was quiet. It was so quiet that I could hear the argument outside the room. "Why is God so cruel? I shouldn't have given birth to her in the first place!""She's just being childish. This depression thing is just something she made up to scare you. This might all just be an act!" I could imagine Dad's expression when she said that. Yvonne spoke next. "That's right. Have you forgotten? Yvette has always been good at acting, even when she was young." I smiled self-deprecatingly. Right, I had always been good at acting. Back then, Dad lost 50 dollars mysteriously, and Yvonne had insisted that I was the one who had taken the money. "It wasn't me!" I had tried defending myself, taking out all of my belongings so that my parents could check. They had checked my drawers and my pillow. When they got to my bag, a 50-dollar note fell out of my bag. Dad was livid. He slapped me hard across the face. Yvonne kept repeating how good at acting I was as she watched our parents punish me. I hadn't taken the money. Later, I found out that this was all Yvonne's idea of a joke. She had framed me because she hated me. She hated me because Mom had transferred all her hopes and dreams onto me. She hated me because I had taken away Mom and Dad's attention from her. The entire family knew how much Yvonne's injuries had devastated her. "She can't accept the fact that she can't walk again, Yvette. Just let her have what she wants.""She just hit you a little. What's the big deal? Why are you so cruel?" My surroundings became blurred as reality and fantasy blurred together. The voices outside jumbled together incomprehensibly. Sweat dripped from the side of my forehead. My stomach was churning. My existence was a mistake. Why did Mom give birth to me?

Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Suddenly, the door opened. Mom came in. I tried to take her hand, opening my mouth, but nothing came out. Mom, I'm not feeling good. However, Mom just looked at me coldly and threw her phone onto the bedside table. A video was playing on the screen. It showed what had happened before I passed out. At the start, I was curled up quietly in a corner. Then, abruptly, I began beating against the walls with my fists, pounding so hard that my hands began bleeding. The blood dripped down my arms and onto the ground. When Mom entered the room, I was slapping myself hard. My arms were covered in bite marks. "I don't know what happened," I said, scared, as I stared at the screen. I had no memory of this happening. What should I do? I looked at Mom pleadingly. Mom snorted coldly. "So, you're fine now that you're in the hospital? Yvonne was right. You were just acting." She picked up the bag from the table. "Yvonne is craving a shrimp cocktail." All of them left. I was left alone in the hospital. The next day, the nurse came in to change my bandages for me. A doctor followed. He was the doctor who had diagnosed me in the first place. His name was Jack Willow. "I'm sorry," I said to him, trying not to cry as I turned away. I heard that my parents had gone to his office yesterday and threw a tantrum, calling him a bad doctor for diagnosing me with depression. Dr. Willow was as kind as ever. He asked me if I wanted to go to therapy. I did not look at him. I bit down on my lip so that my sobs would not be heard. I did not deserve kindness. … My injuries weren't very serious, so I was allowed to go home a few days later. When I got home, my family was in a celebratory mood as it was Yvonne's birthday. In fact, it wasn't hard to remember, as I shared the same birthday. However, no one remembered me. Yvonne never let me celebrate my birthday with her. When Dad saw me, he waved at me. "Come here, Yvette!" I immediately smiled. The birthday cake on the table was bigger than usual. Maybe they finally remembered that it was my birthday too because of my injury. "Go on, blow out the candles." Mom's voice was unusually gentle. I closed my eyes and blew out the candles. My eyes were bright when I opened them again. In the past, Mom would always praise Yvonne when she blew out the candles in one breath. I waited for her to praise me, but it never came. All I heard was Yvonne screaming. "What have you done, you witch?" Yvonne grabbed my arm, her nails digging painfully into my skin. I was confused and looked over at Mom and Dad. They looked awkward. The cake wasn't for me. Mom pulled me to the side and lit up the candles again. "Go on, Yvonne." They stood beside Yvonne, looking at her fondly as she was illuminated by the warm candlelight. Yvonne blew out the candles. As the flames went out, she opened her eyes and gave me a scornful look. I stood at the side awkwardly like I did not belong in the family. Dad finally noticed me. "Yvonne's not in a good mood today, Yvette. I'll buy you another cake in a few days." So, they did remember that Yvonne wasn't the only one whose birthday was today. It wasn't like I liked to celebrate my birthday, anyway. When I was five, all the kids in my class were talking about what their parents did for their birthdays. Some of them were taken to a nice restaurant or a fun theme park. I was the only one who did not have anything to share. I'd never been to a theme park before. In fact, I had never celebrated my birthday before at that point. That was the first time I had rebelled. I wanted to celebrate my birthday too. For the first time, I blew out the birthday candles on the same cake as Yvonne did. However, Mom had come back just then. She snatched the party hat off my head and scolded Dad for celebrating my birthday. "Don't you know that she's a dancer? She can't have cake!" From then on, I was forced to stay in my room during Yvonne's birthday.

Chapter 4 Chapter 4

I was not talented in dancing, so I had to do extra practice to get Mom's approval. "You're not as good as your sister," was something she would say every time I fell. In order to practice dancing, I lost my playtime and my freedom. I wasn't even allowed to close the door to my bedroom. All this was fine as long as Mom was happy. … I returned to my daily life of school and dance. Every time I fell, I would get back up again. Yvonne pointed at me and laughed. "I knew she was good at acting. Look, she's perfectly fine now." Only I knew what happened in the dead of the night. I would cry alone in my bed. I wanted to cut my wrist, but I told myself not to be so stupid and childish. So, I did not use a knife. I used a compass. I cut myself lightly multiple times. It didn't hurt. Sometimes, the wound would bleed, and I would feel relaxed. I knew that this wasn't right, but I couldn't control myself. If only I could die. Death would set me free. My twisted thoughts filled my head, tussling for attention. I felt like a fish out of water, left on the beach to suffocate and die. Eventually, I found another way to deal with the pain: Xavier Chapman. He was Yvonne's boyfriend. Yvonne was right. I was a cruel person. I hated her, and I hated our parents. Xavier was a schoolmate of mine. We almost got together back then, but Yvonne set her sights on him. She went to Mom and Dad and made them order me to let her have him. They became a couple not long after that. Mom had held me at knifepoint so that I would give Xavier up, but in the end, my decision didn't really matter. Xavier was the one who agreed to be Yvonne's boyfriend. I was never anyone's only choice. "Yvette, you should step down. Yvonne's life is sad enough as it is," he had said as he wrapped his arms around Yvonne. "I only see you as my sister." So, during our school's anniversary celebration, I got drunk and threw myself at him, calling his name sweetly. He slept with his "sister". Xavier and I kept our relationship between ourselves. We were only lovers in bed. When he attended our family dinner, I only gave him a polite nod on the surface. Under the table, though, I brushed my foot against his leg. I could feel his arousal, but my dear sister was oblivious. She leaned against him, feeding him a piece of her steak. What if she found out? I had a cruel thought: I really wanted her to see us. Suddenly, Mom put down her fork with a loud clunk. "Yvette Skye, why did you only get second place?" She was looking at the results of my most recent dance competition. "Mom, I was sick on that day," I said softly. "That's enough. Stop finding excuses for yourself. You can't even do such a minor thing. How useless," Mom dismissed. "If Yvonne hadn't gotten injured, you wouldn't even stand a chance here." My mind went blank. She was doing it again. Unable to help myself, I threw down my cutlery too. "If Yvonne's so good, then why did you give birth to me?" And if they had already given birth to me, why did they keep comparing me to Yvonne? Dad slapped me, the crack resounding loudly in the air. My cheek swelled up almost immediately. "You insolent girl!" he snapped. That was right. Dad loved Yvonne, so he wouldn't allow me to say anything bad about her. Tears welled up in my eyes. I ran out of the house and wandered down the street aimlessly. Cars sped past me, caught up in the bustle of the city. I suddenly had a thought. Would Mom and Dad feel sad if I died? Eyes unfocused, I walked toward the center of the road.