In the evening, my parents came back from the fields. As soon as they arrived, my mother rushed into my sister's room. After a while, she came out with a dark expression on her face.

She called me over and slapped me hard on both sides of my face. The force of the slaps was so intense that my cheeks swelled up immediately.

With a face full of anger, my mother furiously accused me, "Yasmine, who do you think is responsible for your sister's current state? Your sister is still bedridden and now you won't even clean her up. Don't you have any heart?"

My mother's eyes were filled with concern for my sister and blame towards me. I was familiar with this look, having lived under such scrutiny for twelve years in my previous life.

I had always known that my parents favored my sister. She was adorable and sweet-talking, their little darling. When, at the age of eight, she had fallen bedridden because of a slap I gave her, their concern was even greater. That day, my parents rushed her to the hospital for an examination, but the results showed she was fine.

However, my parents refused to believe the results. They would rather think the examination was flawed than accept that my sister had deceived them.

They really believed that a single slap from me could have caused my sister's paralysis. We lived in the countryside and when my sister became paralyzed, it was during the busy farming season. With one less person to help, all the work that was originally meant for my sister fell entirely on me for the autumn harvest. My parents preferred to watch me labor under the scorching sun rather than offer any help.

As the "culprit," I took on my sister's share of the work, farming under the blazing sun, causing my skin to burn layer after layer.

When the younger daughter, who was the parents' favorite, became paralyzed due to the elder daughter's actions, they grew to loathe the elder daughter and instead showered even more affection on their beloved younger daughter.

From then on, I became the "leftover" in the family. As the term suggested, I was left with whatever was discarded by my sister: the best food was always given to her first and I wore her old clothes. The most unbearable part was that my sister did everything on her bed and even after many washes, the clothes still carried an indescribable odor of excrement and urine.

I had to wear these short and ill-fitting clothes with a lingering smell of excrement to school, where my classmates mockingly called me "the excrement and urine person."

Meanwhile, the fact that my sister was paralyzed became increasingly exaggerated among the villagers. They didn't believe that a single slap could cause paralysis. Eventually, I was labeled as the villain who constantly abused and beat my sister, ultimately leading to her paralysis.

Even my parents, who knew the truth, came to believe these accusations over time. Whenever they were in a bad mood, they would take it out on me through physical abuse and verbal reprimands, seeing it as justified. Since I was considered a villain, everything that happened to me was deemed as my just desserts.

So, even when my mother hit me, I had to endure it; otherwise, I would face even harsher punishment.

"Mom, Yara’s hands can still move. I was thinking, what if we are not at home and she needs to poop or pee?"

When my mother heard this, she angrily warned me not to shirk my responsibility for taking care of my sister. She insisted that my sister's condition was entirely my fault.

I endured this, knowing it was not the right time to tell my parents that my sister's paralysis was actually a ruse. As they themselves said, pretending to be ill for three or four days might be believable, but how could someone fake an illness for over ten years?

These ignorant people held on to this belief and even when things seemed odd, they never questioned it. They trusted only what they saw with their own eyes and heard with their ears. Since they didn't believe the doctors, I decided to let them see the truth about their supposedly paralyzed daughter for themselves.

One day, after my father had neatly arranged the farming tools in the toolbox as usual, I took the opportunity to sneak out a small hoe while he wasn't paying attention.

After finishing everything, I put on my backpack and set off for school on foot. My home was quite far from the school, requiring a walk of over an hour and the only vehicle at home was a tricycle. My father would never waste time driving his "bully" of a daughter to school.

Nevertheless, I was determined to go to school, hoping that education would enable me to leave this small mountain village and fly away from my original family, like a bird.

Without proper shoes, my feet were constantly covered in painful blisters from walking long distances.

Since discovering that my sister's paralysis was fake, many strange occurrences in the house had been explained. For instance, the mysterious disappearance of brown sugar made sense now. In the past, my parents thought it was being eaten by mice, but it turned out to be consumed by the family's "little greedy cat".

As expected, when I returned home, my parents were gathered with serious expressions in my sister's room. My sister was crying pitifully, covering her face.

I smirked to myself, thinking that the "discovery" had finally been made. It turned out that my father, after working in the fields, realized he had forgotten the small hoe and hurried back home to get it.

Unexpectedly, upon arriving home, he saw a shadow in my sister's room, but the door was locked. Alarmed, he rushed into the room, only to find that his supposedly paralyzed daughter was standing and walking around the room as if she were perfectly normal, with all limbs fully functional.

Seeing her father suddenly return, my sister screamed and fainted. Now, after waking up, she said nothing but lay crying in our parents' embrace.

I was eager to see how she would explain this. As she cried pitifully, my parents' faces were already filled with concern before they had even heard her explanation.

My sister, in her most innocent tone, claimed she didn't know anything about standing up. She said she had been asleep and was suddenly woken up by our father, who told her she had stood up.

My mother, furrowing her brows in deep thought, suddenly had a realization. Her eyes brightened and she said, "Could it be that she was possessed by a ghost? The one who stood up might not have been Yara."

With a face full of conviction, she looked at my father.

My father was horrified by the suggestion that my sister might have been possessed by a ghost and exclaimed, "We need to find the best spirit medium to exorcize the ghost from Yara. How could she suddenly stand up after being paralyzed for so long?"

Seeing the opportunity, my sister quickly caught on and cried even louder. "I don't want to be possessed by a ghost. I'm so scared, Daddy, Mommy."

It was frustrating to witness. My parents were willing to believe that my sister was possessed by a ghost rather than accept that her paralysis was fake. They refused to accept what they saw with their own eyes and preferred to cling to their preconceived notions.

My parents, deeply worried about their youngest daughter, spent a considerable sum to hire the most renowned spirit medium in the village. The medium, with her sharp intuition, immediately identified a "healthy ghost" that could walk as being attached to my sister.

She claimed that removing this ghost would be challenging and would require a larger altar and even more money. My father, already terrified by seeing my sister suddenly stand up, dared not protest and agreed without hesitation.

The medium conducted an elaborate ritual. After it was over, my sister quickly claimed that she felt much lighter, as if something had crawled off her body. Watching her performance, I couldn't help but feel a cold sneer inside.

She revealed her first hint of deceit and there would likely be more to come. Just wait and see.