"My sister died from bullying. Today, I put on her uniform and wear her face." "What are you here for?" "Revenge." 1 That night, the whole family was asleep. The dog suddenly started barking frantically. When I walked into the living room, I smelled blood. Thick, heavy, lingering in the air. The dog was barking at my sister's bedroom door. Confused, I pushed the door open and saw... My sister, in her pajamas, lying on white sheets soaked in blood. Her arm was ghastly pale, and the blood kept flowing, drop by drop, soaking into the hardwood floor. Her eyes were closed, as if she were asleep. I thought it was a hallucination. I pinched myself hard, but the scene remained. In an instant, I felt like I was in hell. I screamed, "Lily!" But she didn't react. My parents' footsteps thundered down the hall. The girl on the bed never woke up. ... Lily, my dear sister, was dead. She died in the darkness just before dawn. Cause of death: suicide by cutting her wrists. There were unexplained bruises on her body. That was the first time I felt the pain of losing a loved one. Just last night at dinner, we were laughing and talking. But in the night, she quietly slipped away to another world. Silent and deadly. My mom cried until she nearly passed out. My dad refused to let them close the casket, yet refused cremation. My sister's body lay in a refrigerated casket in our living room for ten full days. I cried until I was numb, staring only at the blue and purple bruises on her pale skin. Then, amidst the fake tears and hidden smiles of the visitors, I opened her diary. Page by page, I read every word. The things recorded in that diary were like bloodthirsty demons greedily drinking the blood of victory, arrogant to the extreme. The moment I closed the diary, my dad finally agreed to cremation. It happened quickly. In the burning flames, I thought I saw Lily. She smiled at me. That smile was enough to make me risk my life. Because the blood flowing in our veins is the same. ... My parents agreed to let me take Lily's place at school, to help her fulfill her unrealized dreams, or perhaps, they knew something too. The secrets I discovered, my parents might not be unaware of. They chose to acquiesce. Maybe we all needed to do something for my sister. She was an art student at a private high school in a city far away. I was an athlete, attending a public school in our hometown. We were in different schools, but we had the exact same face. Identical twins. She was Lily. I am Lana. Like the lana in a storm, burning with a fire that never dies. ... I bought stationery identical to hers, wore her clothes, and with my parents' farewell, arrived at her school: Saint Jude’s Academy. Lily's school was beautiful. Clutching her diary, I walked forward heavily. The wind was a bit chilly. I softly recited the contents of the diary. ... Page One: March 27. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. Dana wrote "Slut" on my desk and stuffed a lot of trash in my drawer. When I was taking out my books, the sauce from the trash got on them. The math teacher saw it and made me stand in the back of the class, scolding me for not studying properly. Dana jeered. The teacher just lightly scolded her to be quiet. To me, she said: "Lily, you're useless. Look at you, look at the mess on your desk." Mood is bad, really want to cry. Tears keep flowing, but I know... Defending myself is useless. They just think I'm troublesome. March 28. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. Someone swapped my uniform with a boy's and splashed red ink on the back. I washed it all lunch break but couldn't get it out. I know Faye did it, but I didn't dare say anything. When I went to the bathroom, I saw my uniform in the corner. My name was written on it. But my name... it smelled so bad. ... March 29. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. Someone wrote a love letter claiming I wrote it to the popular guy in the next class. He came to our class and mocked me viciously. I don't dare look in the mirror. I feel so ugly. But I didn't write that letter. ... March 30. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. In gym class, Dana deliberately threw the basketball at my head and aimed for my stomach. She would say: "Lily, sorry! I didn't mean to! My bad!" That smile. So pretty. So blinding. So cruel. ... March 31. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. My comb is missing, but I don't dare borrow one. Faye put gum in my hair. I couldn't pull it out. It hurt so much. Really want to cry, but no strength left to cry. ... April 27. Weather: Cloudy. Mood: Bad. They said I stole something, but I didn't take it. Why is it that bad things must have been done by me? As if anyone can frame me. Can I please not be bullied anymore? Sister, protect me. God, protect me. Protect me just once, please? ... May 1. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Happy. Going home. Escaping this hell. I have to be happy so my family thinks I'm doing well. I'm going home! ... June 5. Weather: Stormy. Mood: Bad. Dana tore my clothes, took photos, and posted them on the school forum. I'm not a slut. I'm not... But does anyone believe me? ... June 8. Weather: Light Rain. Mood: Bad. They finally deleted the photos, but I had to agree to fetch their lunch, clean their tables, get water, run errands, and do their homework every day. Luckily, they finally spared me this time. ... June 30. Weather: Sunny. Mood: Bad. My grades have gotten really bad. The homeroom teacher believed the rumors that I was dating and not studying. He told me to reflect on myself. When can I become a better person? I want to sleep well. Not under a damp blanket, but a clean cotton quilt. ... July 9. Weather: Sunny. Mood: ... Is it time to go home? I'm so tired. Just want to rest. ... August 9. Weather: Sunny. Mood: ... Is school starting soon... I don't want to... ... August 11. Weather: Sunny. Mood: ... I'm leaving. Going to another world. I love Mom and Dad. I love my sister! Goodbye. Don't miss me! I'm sorry... ... The thick diary ended with a pile of blank pages. ... When we were little, Lily and I had to sleep in the same bed. Neither of us wanted to be separated. On my birthday, Lily used the allowance she saved for a long time to buy me a pair of Nikes. She knew I loved sweet and sour ribs. She knew everything I liked. I loved her too. Just as much as Mom and Dad loved her. She knew that. We would go to the amusement park just to make her happy. I would make pig noises just to coax her. Knowing her loved ones would be heartbroken, she still chose to leave without looking back. How disappointed, or desperate, must she have been with this world? I don't know. But I can feel that despair. The despair of no return. Because the blood flowing in our veins is the same. ... The warning bell rang. When I walked into the classroom, it was quiet. Probably because it was senior year, the study atmosphere was okay. Lily said she sat in the second to last row. Looking from afar, there were two empty seats in the second to last row. Lily loved cleanliness. I walked straight to that seat, only to hear the class erupt in laughter. A girl pointed at my nose and said, "Lily, are you stupid? Forgot your own seat?" She was wearing makeup. The eyeliner was shaky, and the lipstick looked cheap. I opened the desk. The name written in the books inside was Faye. I didn't know if it was the girl in front of me. I looked at her. I was a bit nearsighted. I walked closer to read her name tag. Her name was Dana. The Dana from the diary. Seemingly unhappy with me staring at her, Dana raised her eyebrows, stood up, and shoved me. "What are you looking at? Get away, you're like a plague." "She is a plague, isn't she?!" Another girl chimed in, not even looking at me, constantly checking herself in a mirror. I smiled, didn't answer, and walked to that filthy seat. It was full of trash and waste paper, with abusive words carved into the desk. My hands trembled slightly. Anger instantly invaded my heart. What did my sister go through? What did she do wrong... Thinking of her pale arm that night, her resolute expression, I suddenly felt a twinge. Then, I sat quietly. Like Lily, but not like her. I am cold-blooded, rational enough; I am vicious, fierce enough. At the bottom of the first page of her diary, I wrote heavily: "My sister died from school bullying. Today, I put on her uniform, wearing her exact face." "Why did I come?" "For revenge." 2 My seat was like a public dump, constantly stuffed with various trash bags. Greasy wrappers. Disgusting. Just back from the restroom, the desk was already full of all kinds of snack wrappers. Red oil dripped from them, inevitably soaking into the books, emitting a foul stench. Does throwing it here reduce pollution and protect the environment? I didn't think so. I stood in front of the podium. Lily always liked to swallow her pride. She would clean up the mess, swallow all the grievances. But I wasn't afraid. Yes, I wasn't afraid. We are children of ordinary families, with no power or status. But I knew there was an institution representing justice that could help me. I came here just to collect evidence. They looked at each other below, puzzled that I didn't cry and go back to clean up the mess today. Class was about to start. They began to panic. I remained motionless. Faye stood up and slapped the table, frowning and shouting, "Lily, go back to your seat, okay? Class is starting. The teacher is coming." The students below laughed uproariously. Dana mocked sarcastically, "She thinks she's precious. Outsiders look down on us! Doesn't even deign to talk to you. So high and mighty!" She seemed completely unaware of how hurtful her words were. She calmly drank water, turned her head, and playfully fought with others again. Sentence after sentence, harsh words pierced the heart like knives. When pulled out, they drained the blood. When the math teacher walked in, I was still standing on the podium. She skillfully put down her textbook and turned to ask me, "Lily, why aren't you in your seat?" "I don't know who put a bunch of mess on my desk." I answered, staring straight at her. I wanted to experience everything. Experience Lily's despair, experience her tears when helpless. Me, Mom, Dad, we tried so hard to teach her to love this world. But you killed her courage to live, without a shred of remorse. The math teacher pushed her glasses up. A hint of disdain flashed in her eyes. She muttered, "Go back to your seat. We'll talk after class." To me, or rather to Lily, she only had these few words. As if the wrongdoers deserved forgiveness. "Teacher, I can't sit in my seat." Curling my lips, I spat out a few words lightly. These light words were courage Lily would never have had. I am much taller than Lily, and my voice is coarser. Why did no one notice the difference? Perhaps because she was ostracized so much, everything about Lily became irrelevant in the eyes of others. Fortunately, this is a private school. Backgrounds like ours are never noticed. Otherwise, the fact that Lily had a twin sister wouldn't be unknown. Then my roleplay would be much harder. But look, now, I don't even need to deliberately imitate her because no one pays attention to her. The math teacher looked at me with an unusual expression. For the first time, she wanted to walk over and see Lily's seat. Second to last row, the seat most easily ignored, the seat of the girl who always kept her head down. When unnatural emotions breed, only eyes convey the most sincere message. Just as she was about to walk over, Dana stood up. "Teacher, the class monitor told her to go back. She's just being maverick, acting like we won't let her sit down. Lily, go back to your seat! We're waiting for class!" A few short sentences attributed everything to just jokes between students. The playful tone seemed to solve all absurdity. Hearing this, the math teacher smiled disdainfully again, attributing everything to student mischief. Her tone became strict: "Lily, it's a critical time now. Can you focus on your studies? Go back to your seat quickly!" "Teacher, I can't sit in my seat; Teacher, can you walk a few more steps back?" I begged her to look at my seat, to see how messy it was. The pleading tone felt like a command. I screamed in my heart, can you walk a few more steps? Just a few steps, and you can see how people in the gutter struggle to live. When did the classroom become a zone of severe hierarchy? Students in the front row rightfully enjoy the glory of being role models. Students with superior looks playfully turn the despair inflicted on others into joy. And the people in the gutter are like being in a water dungeon, looking at the formulas on the blackboard that could save them, yet losing their lives in others' joy. "Teacher, a few more steps, please?" I begged her again. Why, why not walk a few more steps? Why let my sister suffer? Why, why are you the students' light, but failed to shine on my sister? That gaze, hollow yet shining with determination, moved her. I watched Dana's eyes become nervous. Step by step, it was like stepping into hell's gate. In the long classroom, with so many students, she looked at them one by one, yet felt they were strangers. The foul smell made one want to vomit... Those trash bags were buried behind the high-held heads of the front-row students, buried in laughter. Maybe she would never discover it. As long as I continued to endure and return to my seat, continued to take out books and study "The highest good is like water," everything would be buried in time again, leaving my sister buried in the yellow earth. The sister who could laugh and be mischievous, the sister who remembered all my hobbies, the sister who said she would be the first to hug me after I won the championship. What was left for you was happiness, right? What about us? Endless pain and darkness, tearing at the heart like claws and teeth... I didn't want to cry, but I missed my sister. The students in the front row blocked her seat. The back row was a blind spot for cameras. In this school where grades are everything, no one cares about a girl in the gutter who can't see the sun. How loud must the sound of reading be to cover the trembling heart? "Who did this?" The math teacher finally stopped. She choked a little, swallowed a breath, and asked again. The class suddenly became quiet, leaving only the sound of chairs scraping. Not a single person admitted it. Admitted they were accomplices. She continued to ask, "Who did this?" The tone was unkind; anyone could hear it. I wiped away my tears frankly. This was just the beginning. Dana raised her hand tremblingly, saying apologetically: "Teacher, I accidentally put the trash bag there. I told Lily to help me throw it away!" She hinted at me frantically, quite threateningly. I tilted my head and mocked, "I don't remember you ever saying that to me." "You filled my desk with trash. My textbooks are stained. My desk is carved with disgusting words everywhere. You did all this without my permission." "I never joked like this with them, and never, ever said I allowed them to put trash here." Resounding, like stones, accusing them of everything they did. But this was far from enough. The math teacher held her breath. A teacher cannot be humiliated. "I will tell your homeroom teacher. Lily, come to the office with me." She carried her book and walked back to the front row step by step. Dana threw me a look, threatening and scary. She threw her book on the ground in anger. I looked at her provocatively, smiling, smiling very dashingly. Walking up to Dana, I whispered: "Who told you there's no retribution for doing such things? There is cause and effect in the world. Everything cycles eventually. The principle the world has cycled countless times always says one thing: If you do evil, you will destroy yourself." "Dana, your retribution is coming."
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