My sister pulled a knife during a robbery attempt, and we got into a brutal fight.

My mom, an auxiliary police officer, arrived at the scene but totally ignored my injury.

As I lay in a pool of blood, begging for help, she just cradled my sister and yelled at me, "You're so desperate for attention that you'd hurt your sister? How did I raise a heartless monster like you?"

She branded me as the aggressor, ignored my pleas, and rushed my sister, who had mere scratches, to the hospital.

I was left alone to die miserably in that deserted alley.

When the news of my death arrived, my mother dismissed it as another one of my lies, pointing at my body and demanding I get up to apologize to my sister.

When I opened my eyes again, there were no hellish scenes from books.

Instead, I found my mom hovering over the hospital bed, caring for my sister, Ashley Pedersen, who'd just woken up. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Any better?"

For the first time, her usually stone-cold face showed real emotion. The tenderness in her eyes was something I'd chased my whole life but never caught.

Ashley shifted weakly into Linda Pedersen's arms, coughing a little. "Much better. Where is Evelyn? Is she alright? She has never liked me, but I don't understand why she attacked me. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

She hung her head, her long lashes fluttering as tears started to fall.

The moment my name came up, Linda's expression soured. "It's not your fault. That selfish liar just spins tales for drama. Robbery? Ha! Bet it was all a stunt she pulled."

Her eyes brimmed with undisguised disgust. Even in death, the sting hit like a fresh wound, nearly buckling my spectral form.

It was tragic that she had zero faith in me.

Catching her scornful tone, Ashley hid a sly grin and kept up the gracious act. "Evelyn is right. I'm just an extra in this family, always causing problems. But I'd do anything to earn her forgiveness."

As she played the understanding card, Linda recalled my desperate appeals in the alley.

Her frustration boiled over, and she slammed her cup down. "You're too kind. That's how she exploits you. After what she did, you're still defending her? I'm lucky to have a gem like you."

I froze, staring at my bloodstained clothes. The irony hit me like a bitter wave. In Linda's eyes, I had always been this irredeemable failure.

I thought back to my final moments in that dim alley where Ashley had plunged the knife into my gut, her ferocity shocking.

Linda had finally arrived with backup, but before I could even cry for help, she had bypassed me and raced to inspect Ashley.

Looking back at me, she had snapped, "Enough of this nonsense! You know Ashley is timid. Why torment her?"

Timid? She had the guts for murder.

But at that point, I had no strength left to argue. My life was slipping away, and panic set in.

I had extended a trembling hand, begging, "Mom, save me. Name your terms. I'll meet them. I'm really dying."

Wounds riddled my body; every movement was agony.

Yet Linda had just sneered and kicked me. "Dying? Please! You're just jealous because Ashley's sweeter and more likable. You think I can't see through your games? Get up and apologize right now!"

That kick landed with full force, making me spit up blood. I fell to the pavement, blackness claiming me.

Still, Linda deemed it an act, pointing at me with furious disdain. "Fake away as you like! Rot here until you reflect. Don't come home until you're ready to apologize."

With a frigid spin, she left alongside the others, abandoning me in the icy passage where resentment and torment sealed my eyelids forever.

Ashley's injuries were minor scratches at best, hardly warranting hospitalization. But Linda, ever paranoid about complications, insisted on keeping her admitted.

I flashed back to when I'd ventured out after dark to deliver an umbrella to Linda on her overtime shift, only to be hit by a car.

Three fractured ribs had left me bedridden and fading. My situation had needed her care badly, but she had just sneered, "Such theatrics. You're breathing, aren't you? No bandwidth here. Ashley is waiting for her breakfast."

Those six months had been pure hell. She'd confined me to my room to fend for myself, providing only scant water and food, while whisking Ashley off on lavish trips around the world.

In the dim lamplight, I'd wondered repeatedly why she was so heartless. Now I understood that she wasn't incapable of compassion; she simply reserved none for me.

To mark Ashley's discharge, Linda invited all the relatives over for a feast.

Amid the clinking glasses and laughter, everyone avoided mentioning me, as if my name was a curse.

Tipsy after a few rounds of drinks, Aunt Peggy Pedersen draped an arm around Ashley, chuckling, "Surviving that mess means good fortune ahead, dear. Your unhinged sister hasn't pestered you again, has she?"

Before Ashley could respond, Linda snorted derisively. "As if she'd dare appear after hurting Ashley. That wretch has been gone for days now, probably too scared to face me."

In our warped bond, Linda dominated, weaponizing duty and devotion to crush my slightest defiance. Apparently, a mother's love could double as a tool of control.

Reveling in the gossip, Peggy crunched nuts and prodded further. "She can't ghost you forever. So young and already defiant? Imagine her grown up. She'll run wild."

Linda's pride stung, and she shot a glare at my empty room. To flex her control before the family, she yanked out her phone and dialed my number. "She wouldn't dare. Observe. She'll scurry back at my command. That coward fears me most."

She was not bluffing. I'd answered promptly in life, rage or not, but death barred that now.

My phone had long been taken away with my body, so only silence greeted her efforts.

Surprised, she tried once more, and when it went answered, she hurled the phone onto the couch. "That insolent punk! Ignoring me while I'm still around? I'll whip her into shape, or she'll forget her place!"

But that wasn't my choice. I simply couldn't anymore.

Before Ashley was born, her love had shone briefly. She had lavished me with new toys and fancy outfits, making me believe I was the luckiest kid alive.

When she asked if I wanted a sibling, I got all excited.

Little did I know that marked the beginning of my personal hell.

At age two, Ashley nagged me to play in the park, then grabbed a stone to crack another child's skull.

When the child's parents stormed over for answers, she blinked innocently, pointed at me, and started bawling. "Evelyn did it! I begged her to stop, but she turned on me, too!"

Childish and clueless on rebuttals, I mumbled repeatedly, "It wasn't me. I didn't..."

The disappointment in our parents' eyes haunted me relentlessly, replaying in my mind on every sleepless night.

From that day on, Ashley seemed to discover a twisted new game. Whenever she caused trouble, she'd pin the blame on me without fail.

Our parents grew increasingly impatient with my explanations, dismissing them as lies. The final straw came when she stole a neighbor's wallet, leading to another confrontation at our door.

"I swear I didn't do it. It was all Ashley!" I implored. "Why wouldn't you believe me?"

Clinging to that faint thread of familial bond, I hoped for understanding. Instead, Linda rose and delivered a vicious kick to my face, sending my frame flying across the room like a rag doll.

"How did we raise a rotten apple like you?" she snapped. "Ashley has covered for you so many times, but instead of being grateful, you slander her? Get out!"

I hit me then that this home held no spot for me. I swallowed all the hurt and injustice, embracing muteness, but Ashley was relentless.

When I stumbled upon her committing a crime in that dim alley, she lunged at me with a knife. In one second, all my pent-up frustration exploded.

"What's your endgame?" I snapped. "I'm invisible here! Why go this far? We're blood!"

Her cackle rang mockingly. "Blood? Greed drives slaughter daily. Even Mom ignores and beats you all the time. Blame your existence for halving my share of the inheritance."

I had thought she was bluffing until murderous intent glinted in her eyes.

Retreating desperately, I tried to reason. "I've never wanted to compete with you. Can't we just coexist peacefully?"

But she was too far gone to listen. "My dear sister, I'll honor your memory after you're gone. After all, no one has ever truly loved you."

Blood dripped from my wounds as I gawked at the blade protruding from my body—wielded by my sister. I started to question my life's worth. What in the world was real?

Ashley stabbed me wildly, and when Linda finally arrived minutes later, she only scolded me.

Ashley was right after all. Love had indeed eluded me utterly.

After nearly six months of vacation out of state, Linda received a call from the police station. The case was closed, but protocols lingered, requiring her presence.

She grudgingly flew back, griping to the officer. "Couldn't this be handled over the phone? Flights cost a fortune. That troublemaker just never quits."

The officer froze, appalled at her detachment over my passing, though our messed-up family dynamic was no secret to everyone in the station.

Pitying my fate, he sighed, "Come on, don't talk like that. Let her rest in peace."

Linda paused mid-signature, scoffing dismissively, "You in her ruse, too? Won't fool me here. Unless she apologizes to Ashley, I will not forgive her."

She clung to her twisted version of events. Everyone in the station stopped what they were doing and exchanged complicated looks.

If they hadn't seen it firsthand, they would never believe a parent could be so callous. It was about my death, but she brushed it off as a joke.

Slouched casually, she toyed with a lavish ring on her finger—something I'd toiled extra shifts for six months for. She'd spotted it in the mall and threatened to kick me out if I didn't get it for her.

"Anything else?" she asked. "I've got a spa appointment this afternoon. Don't waste my time."

The officer took a deep breath before slamming an item down on the table. "Her belonging. Claim it."

My gaze softened as I looked at the pendant.

When I was little and gravely ill, the doctors said I might not pull through. Linda got it from the church and prayed for me. It had anchored me through those hopeless midnights.

I reached out to touch it, but Linda shoved it away in disgust. "Junk from a stall? Useless to me."

My hand froze mid-air. Junk from a stall? But she had told me it was a precious item.

So, the last thing that had kept me going was fake, too? What was I to her, then?

As I spiraled into doubt, she facepalmed. "Oh, there's a real one. I gave it to Ashley to keep her safe. Evelyn is tough. She doesn't need it."

The irony in her words stung. Morbid laughter bubbled up within me uncontrollably, but I could not deny the truth: no one in the world cared about me or wanted to protect me. My existence was cheap from the start.

While I was lost in thought, Linda persisted. "What could this trash prove? Stop playing along with that wretch's games. Bring her out here. If she doesn't apologize, she will not come home."

A thunderous shout interrupted her rant. "Enough!"

The police chief emerged from his office with a stern expression, handing her a file. "Sign this death certificate. Her body has been waiting long enough. Time to take her home."

Linda's smug smile evaporated in an instant.