I lived my entire life as my older sister's shadow. I endured my parents' emotional abuse and brutal school bullying. If it had been my sister getting bullied, my parents would have believed her without hesitation and fought for her like lions. But none of it matters now. In my next life, I'm going to choose parents who actually love me... 1 After writing that final sentence, I felt absolutely no regret as I jumped from the sixth floor. Smash! It hurt so much. Floating in mid-air, I looked down at my own body lying in a hospital bed. I was covered in tubes. My heart monitor beeped weakly. My face was as white as a sheet. My parents stood by the bed, looking exhausted. My mother immediately started complaining. "I just scolded her a little, and she goes and jumps off a building! Did I say anything wrong? She’ll never compare to Chloe." She was right. I could never measure up to my older sister, Chloe. Even when I tried to die, I couldn't do it cleanly, wasting medical resources. My father shushed her, keeping his voice low. "Enough, stop talking. Look at the state she's in. Is this really the time to complain? We already lost Chloe. Are we going to lose Mia too?! We're getting old. Having another child is nearly impossible. You don't want to end up with no one to take care of you when you're elderly, do you?" So that's all I was. A replacement and an insurance policy for their old age. They never believed anything I said. And they didn't even care why I jumped. In that case, I just wanted to die quickly. I watched them get called into the doctor's office. I drifted after them. The doctor looked incredibly grim. "Professor Sterling, the patient's condition is extremely critical. She has suffered massive internal trauma, and her will to live is practically non-existent. You need to find something to stimulate her—talk to her, remind her of good memories. If this continues, she’s not going to make it." They nodded frantically and hurried home. When they returned, they were carrying several of my old diaries. 2 My mother impatiently flipped open a diary from my elementary school years and began reading aloud. June 1st, 2010 My name is Mia Sterling. My aunts told me that before my older sister, Chloe, died, her last words were: "I want to be Mommy's child again in my next life." And because of that, I was born. Aside from the beauty mark under my eye, I was completely different from my sister. Chloe loved pink. I loved blue. But to honor my dead sister, and in the desperate hope that my parents might love me a little more, I silently wore nothing but pink clothes. Even if the love they gave me was actually meant for Chloe, I was still happy. Because Mommy and Daddy were all I had. Until today, Children's Day. My desk-mate Lily had this beautiful blue dress. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Lily saw how much I loved it, and offered to trade outfits with me for a little while after the school talent show. I didn't dare wear it outside. I hid in the bathroom stalls to try it on. Lily told me I looked so pretty, and that blue was my color. She said she wanted to take a few pictures of me. Just as I posed for the camera, my mother burst in. When she saw the dress, she lost her mind. She violently ripped the dress off my body, then slapped me across the face, over and over, screaming curses at me. It hurt so much, and I felt so humiliated. I cried hysterically. Lily jumped in front of me, trying to stop my mother from hitting me. But my mother, completely blind with rage, beat her too. She hit Lily so hard her ear started bleeding. When Lily's mother found out, she came to our house demanding an explanation. But my mother just screamed back, "Your daughter deserved to be hit! Who told her to swap clothes with my daughter?! And she tried to stop me from disciplining my own child! Sticking her nose where it doesn't belong! If she hadn't gotten in my way, do you think I would have touched her?! My daughter is forbidden to wear blue!" After that, Lily never spoke to me again. The beating left her partially deaf in one ear. I lost the only real friend I had. When the other kids in my class found out what happened, they avoided me like the plague. My father sighed heavily after hearing that. My mother stubbornly defended herself. "Whenever I see the color blue, all I can think about is the day Chloe died in that car crash. She was wearing blue! Our precious Chloe was only seventeen. She hadn't even lived her life yet, and she was taken from us. The color blue terrifies me!" Terrified of blue? What a joke. It was just because my sister didn't like blue. But even though I wore the same colors as her... I was still never as smart as my sister. 3 The next day, it was my father's turn to read. April 25th, 2010 We got our math tests back today. I only scored an 87. My teacher looked at me with deep disappointment and sighed, "If this were Chloe, she definitely would have gotten a perfect score." But I really did try my best. After school, I was terrified to go home. If I didn't get a 100, I wasn't allowed to eat dinner, and I would be beaten. I wandered the streets, hoping to delay going back until it was completely dark. Suddenly, a strange man started talking to me. I ignored him. My teachers always said never to talk to strangers. When I kept ignoring him, he got angry. He grabbed me, picked me up, and started carrying me toward a dark alley. I was terrified. I screamed and thrashed as hard as I could. Suddenly, an older boy yelled at him, "Where are you taking my sister?! If you don't put her down right now, I'm calling my dad!" The boy pointed toward a random man walking down the street. The stranger panicked, dropped me, and ran away. The boy told me not to be scared. He asked why I wasn't going home even though it was getting dark. I ended up telling him everything. He comforted me. "You did a great job on your test! Your parents must be so worried about you since you're out this late. Even if they prefer your older sister, it's impossible that they don't love you at all. Maybe they just don't know how to show it. Don't worry, I'll walk you home." Hearing his words gave me hope. He was right—how could they not love me at all? The boy walked me to my front door. I felt anxious, but also hopeful. 4 The moment I walked in, I saw my mother standing there. When she saw I had been brought home, she looked panicked and pulled me into a tight hug. "Mia! Where have you been? Mommy was worried sick!" Was I dreaming? My mother actually worried about me. The boy was right—she did love me! Tears welled up in my eyes. Her hug felt so warm. "This boy walked me home." As I told her what happened, her expression shifted between fear and anger. But whenever she looked at me, her eyes were full of love! My mother thanked the boy profusely, and he left. I gently closed the front door and turned around. My mother's face was completely dark. The hopeful light in my eyes instantly died. Because in her hand, she was holding the wooden ruler. She yanked me toward her by the arm and ripped my test paper out of my backpack. When she saw the score, pure rage twisted her face. She grabbed me by the ear and screamed: "Eighty-seven! How many times have I told you?! You need to get a hundred! A hundred! You worthless piece of trash! What is wrong with your brain that you can't even get a perfect score?! Is it really that hard?! When are you going to be like your sister?! You're nothing like my child!" It was all fake. It was all a lie. She only hugged me to put on a show for the boy. She didn't love me at all. The wooden ruler came down on me, each strike harder than the last. My screams and crying were so loud that our neighbor came over and knocked on the door, demanding to know what was going on. I thought my mother would finally stop. But after she dismissed the neighbor, the beating continued. My instinct to cry and dodge only made her hit me harder. "Shut up, you little brat! Stop crying! Do you want the whole building to know I'm hitting you?! Do you think crying is going to make me stop?!" She bound my hands and feet and slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth. She swapped the wooden ruler for a bamboo cane. Thwack after thwack. The agonizing pain made me writhe on the floor like a maggot. She didn't stop until she was completely exhausted and my nose was bleeding heavily. Cursing me, she finally untied my hands. I limped to my room and curled up in the corner, licking my wounds like a stray animal. My tears mixed with the blood from my nose. My entire body felt like it was on fire, covered in angry red welts. I hugged my knees and stared blankly at the floor. I'm so stupid. Maybe I really wasn't her child. That's why I couldn't get a perfect score, and why she didn't love me and hit me so viciously. Yes, that had to be it. How could a mother in this world not love her own child? If she loved me, she wouldn't treat me like this. Where was my real mother? When was she going to come find me? 5 My father finished reading and fell silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke: "Even though Mia isn't as smart as Chloe, you promised me you wouldn't hit her anymore! When the neighbor asked me about it, I had to spend an hour making excuses! We are highly educated academics! Do you know how humiliating it is for people to think we beat our kids?!" Humiliating. How laughable. Is his pride more important than his own daughter? My mother scoffed coldly, her tone entirely justified: "I hit her for her own good! Spare the rod, spoil the child! What parent hasn't disciplined their kids? Chloe got perfect scores, so she had to get perfect scores too! That's the only way she can be like Chloe. Besides, her grades went up after I hit her, didn't they?! And after that incident, I never laid a hand on her again!" Never laid a hand on me again? She hit me so often she probably lost count. 6 My father didn't argue. He essentially agreed with her. It was true. I wasn't as exceptional as my sister. I couldn't bring him glory or prestige. No one ever complimented him anymore, saying, "As expected of a Professor, you raised such a brilliant daughter!" Whenever his colleagues or friends met me, they would shake their heads and sigh with pity. "It's such a tragedy about Chloe. What a brilliant, outstanding girl!" "Mia just doesn't have her sister's spark. Such a shame." "Chloe got a full ride to Princeton. She had so much potential, and she was so beautiful." I began to grow curious about my sister's legendary legacy. I tried to piece together an image of her from the fragmented comments of the adults around me. That curiosity only grew stronger. I desperately wanted to go into her bedroom to see for myself. But my mother forbade anyone from entering Chloe's room. She cleaned it personally every single week. Curiosity killed the cat. One afternoon, driven by some inexplicable urge, I sneaked into that room. 7 My father's throat was dry from reading. He chugged a glass of water and tossed the diary to my mother. She flipped casually to a page and started reading. September 27th, 2013 My mother forgot to lock my sister's room today. I finally got the chance to go inside. My sister's room was pink, just like mine. The room was immaculate. There wasn't a speck of dust on the desk. In the corner, there was a beautiful ballet tutu displayed on a mannequin. The largest wall was completely covered in academic awards and certificates. Her desk was crowded with trophies of all sizes and stacks of honors. My sister was so amazing. I hadn't earned even a fraction of the honors she had in her entire life. There were also many carefully framed photos on her desk. Photos of my sister alone, photos of her and my mother, photos of her and my father, and photos of the three of them together. Their smiles were so bright and radiant. They had never smiled at me like that. I didn't have any solo portraits displayed in the house, and I definitely didn't have any family photos like that. Suddenly, my mother came home. She caught me in my sister's room.
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