Mom's voice shook with rage, "Repeat that, how on earth did I end up raising someone so heartless... I should've strangled you when I had the chance."

She was so mad she wanted to hit me, but Jane stopped her.

Jane's voice was all sugary sweet, like a harmless kitten.

"Mom, Nora just says things straight-up. Don't be mad at her. It's good she's here to celebrate with us. We should all be happy together."

Mom shot me a death glare, "You call it straight-up, I call it classless and clueless. It's a wonder you haven't been beaten to a pulp out there."

I stared back at her, feeling the disgust pouring out.

Sorry to disappoint—I'm still not dead.

But I guess I'd be checking out soon.

I smirked, "Don't worry, Mom, I'll die right in front of you."

"Quit with the threats—they don't work on me."

Mom, it was no threat. It was a fact.

Jane, always the peacemaker, said, "Look, Nora, you're my sister, and it's rare for you to drop by. Let's not fight. I'll make the cake, and we can all eat together."

She was looking at me, all smiles, but I felt like throwing up.

I shoved her hand away, "I'm not your sister. Stop calling me that. Just because they picked you up from somewhere doesn't mean you belong here."

Jane started bawling, tears streaming down like rain. It was really pitiful.

"Nora, sorry I ticked you off again."

I felt my face burning, and my ears ringing from the slap.

Mom had quite the swing.

"You threw all your education away. She's your sister, how dare you talk to her like that. How can you be so vile?"

"Your sister's been nothing but loyal and caring for me and your dad. You? Always messing around. You don't hold a candle to her."

Yeah, I'd never held a candle to Jane.

Guess she might as well be your only kid. I'm out.

The next morning, Jane was in my room.

Mom wasn't around to play referee, and Jane's eyes were full of nasty schemes.

"Nora, you're just too bossy, too tough. Mom hates that."

"All these years, and you still haven't learned to chill."

She was grinning like she was on top of the world, schooling me like I was the outsider who needed to shape up.

Too bad, I was spoiled rotten from the get-go, never kissing up to anyone I couldn't stand.

And I definitely didn't pull punches with people I despised. Guess she forgot I really did hit back when pushed.

I set down my glass and gave her the cold shoulder.

And I slapped her hard—payback for earlier.

Jane clutched her red, swollen cheek, glaring, "You hit me?"

I laughed, "I did. Just putting a bully in her place. Not the first time, won't be the last."

Jane was five when they brought her home.

They picked her up from some orphanage.

Mom held my hand back then, "Sweetie, you're so lonely, let Jane keep you company."

At first, I didn't mind, just another playmate.

But Jane and I? We were like oil and water—never mixed well.

We had like eight hundred tricks up our sleeves.

She had eight hundred and one, and I was one short.

At dinner, she'd stick to her veggies and bread. Mom would push her to eat more meat. She'd say, "Mom, save the meat for Nora, I'm good."

Though the platter was stacked.

People say things without thinking, but ears pick up a lot.

Mom watched her, all teary-eyed with pride, and then shifted the pork chops from my plate to Jane's.

"Learn from your sister, how thoughtful she is, not like you, always so spoiled."

"We spoiled you rotten, that's why you turned out so selfish."

I lost my appetite. I hadn't done a thing, yet here I was, the selfish one.

They kept giving me martial arts over ballet any day. I'm all about boxing and fighting.

As I was locking horns with Mom, Jane popped up.

She was at the door, twisting her shirt, whispering like a mosquito, "Mom, if Nora doesn't want to, can I go for it? I love to dance."

At that moment, Mom's face went from disappointed to delighted, "Absolutely, honey. I'll get you into the best school in the city."

"Jane's the thoughtful one, not like you, always at odds with me."

From that point on, it was all about Jane. She was considerate, kind, and had the right attitude. Mom praised her to the skies.

And me? I was stamped as the rebel, the faker, selfish, petty, and jealous.

Jane clutched her face and stormed out of my room.

Moments later, my door was kicked in with a vengeance.

Mom's eyes, blazing with raw fury, saw her flinging a porcelain cup straight at my head.

It struck my forehead, slicing a thin line of blood across my skin.

Mom paused, her voice thick with rage, "If you're just here to start trouble, get the hell out. This is my house!"

"What did I ever do to deserve a nightmare like you?"

My hand was clenched so tight, it hurt.

Looking at her, I was at a loss for words, every attempt to speak choked off.

The pain in my palm was nearly unbearable.

After a long silence, I managed a weak smile, "Mom, your present hasn't arrived yet. How could I leave? I've got to be here for your birthday."

Mom's glance was cold as ice, "I couldn't care less about your gifts. Just stop pissing me off for once, that'd be a miracle."

But hey, Mom, you're stuck with the mess you made.

Blood streamed down, blurring one of my eyes.

Mom looked away with a huff, "Can't even dodge? Absolutely pathetic."

She probably couldn't stand the sight of me anymore and slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls.

Then she took Jane out to the carnival.

Jane's latest post popped up on social media: "Got this charm from Mom, keeping us all safe and sound. Gonna grab one for you too, Nora!"

I turned off my phone, done with the drama.

She always did the same act with her, endlessly curating her sweet little sister persona.

I got ready and stepped out, seizing the day with whatever strength I had left.

Switched up to my coolest wig before I left.

It was a favorite back in my boxing days.

The streets buzzed with energy, a river of people flowing back and forth.

Kids in festive gear were hoisted high by their dads, their laughter mingling with the glow of their lanterns.

Moms snapped photos, their adoration framed in each shot.

I found myself smiling, but it didn't last.

There was a time when I was the one on Dad's shoulders, smothered in Mom's adoration.

Suddenly, it all felt meaningless.

After snacking on some street food, I was heading home when I spotted a puppy scavenging near a trash can.

It looked barely a few months old.

Figured it felt as lonely as I did, so I squatted down, "Hey there, buddy, follow me and I'll treat you to some real food."

It seemed to understand and scurried over, pawing gently at my hand.

Ticklish, yet comforting.

I took it to a pet clinic to make sure it was okay. Luckily, no injuries, so I got it vaccinated and cleaned up, even snagged a few adorable outfits.

Cradling it in my arms, I stroked its fluffy head, "Little guy, stick with me for the ride. When my time's up, I'll find you a loving home, okay?"

It didn't hesitate, snuggled up and dozed off after eating.

I kept it hidden in my bag to dodge any nagging from Mom.