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.