I hit the "golden daughter," so my brothers committed me to a psychiatric hospital. When I was finally released, I had become unnaturally obedient. If my brothers told me to go east, I wouldn't dare head west. But why did the fake daughter suddenly become even more "well-behaved" than me? Dr. Miller said that a professional patient never strikes back unless the other person hits first. Those are the rules of the ward. Oh? Please. Getting someone to swing first is the easiest game in the world. I have a thousand ways to make them do it. 1 The day my brother, Silas, came to pick me up from the asylum, I was wearing a Peter Pan collar blouse and denim overalls. My hands were neatly folded in front of me, my eyes downcast. The old, arrogant fire was gone. Silas looked me up and down, finally satisfied. "Do you understand what you did wrong?" I nodded obediently and recited the lines Dr. Miller taught me. "I’m sorry, Silas. I was jealous of Brianna. That’s why I hired those guys to scare her. I was wrong. I’ll never do it again." The perfect amount of grievance, the perfect hint of remorse. Tears brimmed in my eyes but didn't fall—a pose I had practiced by watching Brianna for a long time. It worked. Silas believed me. He reached out his noble hand and gave my head a condescending pat. "Good. If you hadn't crossed the line so badly, Arthur wouldn't have locked you away. From now on, try to get along with Brianna." I mimicked Brianna’s habit of nuzzling into his palm. Silas actually smiled. No one noticed the Director of the asylum, Dr. Lowery, shuddering violently behind us. I flicked a glance at him, and cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. "Mr. Sterling, if there’s nothing else, I’ll leave you to your family reunion." Silas nodded. "You did well. The Sterling Group’s donation will be in your account by morning." "Th-thank you!" Lowery stammered and bolted. "The Director is quite fast on his feet, isn't he?" I murmured. Thump. Lowery tripped over nothing. Then, under Silas’s confused gaze, he scrambled up and ran like a ghost was chasing him. "Silas, can I go home now?" Seeing my submissive state, he nodded. But he didn't forget a final warning: "If you bully Brianna again, even if Arthur doesn't send you back, I will!" "Okay," I whispered. 2 When we reached the familiar estate, I stood at the threshold. I didn't enter. Brianna used to say this was her house. Her parents, her brothers. I was just the intruder. How could I enter someone else’s home uninvited? It wasn't until Silas said, "Get inside," that I forced a flattered smile. "Is it really okay?" Silas’s eyes softened with a hint of pity. But the memory of my past behavior quickly hardened his heart again. Soon, Arthur and Brianna returned. "Arthur, I brought Yasmine back," Silas said. "Has it been six months already?" Arthur asked. Already? I had lived through a year’s worth of hell every day in that place, but to them, time flew. Arthur studied me with a cold, judgmental gaze. I immediately gave him a small, respectful half-bow. Brianna saw me and gasped, shrinking behind Arthur’s broad shoulders. Arthur patted her arm. "Don't be afraid. I’m here. If she touches you, I promise she’ll never set foot outside that asylum again as long as she lives." He looked at me like I was a cockroach. I pressed a hand to my chest. So, an asylum patient’s heart can still feel pain. "I’ll be very good. I’ll listen," I said, my voice small and pathetic. Arthur shot me a look of pure disgust and led Brianna away to wash up for dinner. 3 Dinner was, predictably, all of Brianna’s favorites. Suppressing her "fear," Brianna picked up a piece of spicy popcorn chicken and put it in my bowl. "Here, Yasmine. Eat." Pepper, chili, and... mango dipping sauce. This chicken was a curated list of everything I hated. Arthur leaned in. "Brianna, I raised you. You aren't inferior to anyone. You don't have to grovel to her." Brianna lowered her head, a tear hitting her plate. I didn't get it. They gave her the best of everything, tailored every meal to her taste, yet they thought she was the victim? Dr. Miller said: The best actor gets the candy. I sat there, staring at the chicken, swallowing hard. Then I asked the question that made the room turn cold. "Am... am I allowed to eat?" Arthur: ... Silas: ... Brianna: Internally screaming. When no one objected, I picked up my fork. I was starving. I hadn't had real food in forever. I wanted to swallow the whole table. My unrefined, desperate eating style made them scowl. "Yasmine, didn't they feed you in there?" Silas asked. I shook my head. "They did. But the slop buckets never had meat in them..." Slam! Arthur threw his fork down. "Yasmine Sterling, who are you trying to disgust? The Sterling family funds that facility. Lowery wouldn't dare treat you like that. There’s a limit to lying." Wouldn't he? Arthur, have you ever seen a bed of nails? Have you ever felt the current of an electric chair? Have you ever watched a girl fight a dog for a scrap of gristle? Arthur hadn't. But Brianna, hidden behind her napkin, was smiling. I stood there trembling, staring at Arthur in terror. Silas frowned. "Arthur, it's her first night back. Can't we just have a quiet meal?" Arthur suppressed his rage, his loathing for me deepening. Silas handed me a fork. "Eat if you're hungry." "Thank you, Silas," I said with a sweet, wide smile. Silas’s pupils contracted. Did his sister know how to smile like that? Why had he never seen it before? For a split second, Silas felt a strange tug at his heart. Even Arthur’s eyes flickered, though his coldness remained. 4 I was about to go to bed when Brianna walked in. "I brought you some milk, Sister." She didn't knock. "Thank you," I said, taking the glass. Those two words had never passed my lips before. Every time she "offered" something, it was a trap. Brianna smirked. "You’ve become quite the little pet, haven't you?" The next second, her hand "slipped." The milk splashed all over my clothes. "Oh no! Yasmine, why didn't you catch it?" She looked at me provocatively. I didn't move. She picked up the only gift my brothers had ever given me—a small music box from the year I returned—and tossed it into the trash. I still didn't move. She scanned the room and saw the photo on my desk. It was the only picture I had of our parents and me. This time, I moved. I caught her wrist. Brianna laughed triumphantly. With her free hand, she snatched the frame and smashed it against the floor. My eyes burned with rage. "Oh, are you mad? Hit me then! I dare you!" Blatant provocation. But as an asylum patient, the first thing I learned was to follow instructions. I swung my arm and delivered a resounding slap to her face. Brianna was stunned for a few seconds before she began her performance. "Arthur! Silas! Help me!" They burst in instantly, shielding Brianna and glaring at me. "Yasmine, what the hell is wrong with you?" I folded my hands neatly. "She told me to hit her." Brianna sobbed, clutching her red cheek. "I just brought her milk... I saw her throwing your gifts in the trash... she tried to rip up the family photo... I tried to stop her and she just attacked me! Look!" The gift was in the trash. The photo was on the floor. The frame was shattered. The evidence was "undeniable." "Yasmine, do you still hate us that much? It wasn't our fault the hospital switched you at birth!" Silas shouted, his disappointment palpable. Hate? I suppose. I spent ten years on the streets. My foster parents trained me to beg. I stole, I fought, I slept in alleys. I lived like a bug in the dirt. Meanwhile, the Sterlings pampered my replacement. How could I not hate them? I hated them for not finding me sooner. I hated them for replacing me. I hated that they always believed her lies. "I should have let you rot on the streets," Arthur spat. I looked at him, my expression returning to that eerie "well-behaved" mask. "Brianna threw the gift away. Brianna smashed the photo." "You—!" Arthur looked like he was about to explode. I pulled out my discharge papers. "I swear on my clinical diagnosis as a psychiatric patient, I am telling the truth." Psychiatric patient. The brothers froze. Silas snatched the papers, his hands trembling. "This... this is real." I nodded. "Dr. Miller said that for us 'mentally ill' people to survive in the world, we have to be obedient. We have to be quiet." Arthur glanced at the papers and sneered. He didn't believe me. "Obedient? Good. Move out of this room. Brianna is staying here now." This room was the "Princess Suite" my parents had custom-built for me. My mother designed the layout; my father picked the furniture. It was supposed to be my sanctuary. Brianna had tried to take it a dozen times. "Okay," I said. I immediately started packing my few belongings. Arthur, Silas, and even Brianna were stunned. This room was my last line of defense. Usually, I’d fight to the death for it. Brianna’s eyes sparkled. She finally had it. She tugged Arthur’s sleeve. "Arthur, is it okay? Can I really stay here?" Arthur’s face was grim. "If she can live here, so can you." He turned to me and pointed toward the basement—the unfinished storage room. "You sleep there." I nodded obediently and lugged my blankets downstairs. Arthur’s hand was still half-raised, frozen in the air. He watched me settle into the cramped, dark space. His chest seemed to be heaving with a strange, repressed fury. I didn't get it. This is what you wanted, right? Why are you angry? As I lay down to sleep, he barked: "Wait!" I stayed still. The maid walked in and poured a bucket of ice water over my mattress. "Now you can sleep," Arthur said, his face a mask of indifference. He was waiting for me to snap. He wanted my "true nature" to come out. Too bad. I lay down in the soaking wet bedding and, within minutes, I was snoring softly. Arthur: !!! 5 I woke up in a comfortable guest room. Silas was by my bed, muttering, "How long has she been asleep? Ten hours..." When I opened my eyes, he looked worried. "Yasmine, are you really..." He couldn't finish, but I knew what he meant. "I’m a psychiatric patient," I said calmly. "But I’m not ashamed." Arthur didn't trust me. He spent the next two weeks testing me. He told me to go left; I went left. He told me to eat fish; I ate fish. He even put a large, hairy spider on my hand. I shook with terror, but I didn't dare brush it off until he told me to. Arthur’s face grew darker every day. Finally, he looked at Brianna and asked, "Was it really you?" Brianna had never faced this kind of doubt. That same day, she found the head maid. "Doesn't your son want that new house?" she whispered. "Do this, and the money is yours." The maid’s eyes gleamed. She’d made a fortune off me over the years. That night, she crept into my room and pinched me awake with her sharp nails. "Don't you dare scream!" I was obedient. I didn't scream. I just stared at her with wide, innocent eyes. My submission gave her courage. She grinned wickedly. "Get up. Take your clothes off." I stood up, but I wouldn't undress. Dr. Miller said a girl must have a baseline of dignity, no matter the environment. The maid grew angry and pulled out a long sewing needle. "Remember this? Strip, or I’ll bury this in your skin!" I tilted my head. Bad memories surfaced. Once, I had a high fever. My brothers had taken Brianna on a ski trip and left me with the maid. I couldn't get out of bed. For three days, she didn't give me a drop of water or a bite of food. I was dying. Every time I drifted off, she’d stab me with a needle to keep me awake. When the brothers returned, I told them. Arthur slapped me across the face. I found out later that while I was in that hell, the maid had called them every day, crying about how I was abusing her. She’d even scratched her own arms for "proof." "Scared? Good. Now do as I say!" the maid hissed, her face contorted. Dr. Miller said that people like her—servile to the powerful but cruel to the weak—need no mercy. The next second, I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. I took the needle from her hand and drove it deep into her thigh. A pig-like squeal echoed through the mansion. "Shh," I whispered. "Disturbing the peace gets you sent to the water tank." She didn't seem to understand. I dragged her by the hair toward the door. The brothers rushed downstairs, pale. "Yasmine! What are you doing?" Silas yelled. "She’s too loud," I said. "I can't sleep. Where is my chainsaw? I need to cut out her tongue." The blood drained from Silas’s face. He lunged forward to stop me. "There is no chainsaw!" "Yasmine, let me throw her out for you, okay? If she’s outside, she won't be loud!" I tilted my head. "Really?" Silas managed to pry her hair out of my grip. He threw her out the front door. It was much quieter. I went back to my room and fell asleep instantly. The rest of them stood in the hallway, staring at each other. The house was as silent as a tomb.
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