My sister and I are twins, but we are the extreme opposites of good and evil. She was born with the heart of a saint, treating everyone with kindness, but she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. I have committed countless sins, was clinically diagnosed with the "Warrior Gene" linked to violent psychopathy, and was thrown into juvie for malicious assault. That was, until I found out my sister was being relentlessly bullied by her classmates. They livestreamed her on the Dark Web, letting the audience pay to decide how she would be tortured. The bullies refused to repent. They even bragged that in the next livestream, they would perform a DIY sex-change operation on her. A bullying livestream? I laughed. They didn't know I was getting out. Because what I do best... is bullying. 1 When I was released from juvie, every single inmate in my cellblock breathed a massive sigh of relief. A fierce storm howled outside the detention center gates. Heavy snow swirled in the air. It wasn't a good day. The person waiting for me outside wasn't my sister, as we had promised. It was my mother, her hair completely white. Seeing her again, the usually optimistic, laid-back woman looked like she had aged decades overnight. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts, and she didn't say a word. She didn't take me home. Instead, she drove straight to the hospital. Through a layer of thick ICU glass, I saw my sister, her body covered in tubes, lying motionless on a hospital bed. My fist slammed into the glass. My heavy breathing instantly frosted the pane. "What happened?" With trembling hands, my mother held up her phone. Amidst the shrill, chaotic screaming coming from the speakers, my sister's face—swollen like a water balloon—appeared on the screen. That was when I learned that my sister, who had been putting on a brave face all this time, was being brutally subjected to school bullying. This group of sociopaths wasn't just bullying her; they recorded videos and livestreamed them on the Dark Web for crypto. In a livestream room titled "Cell 9," a girl laughed as she used a black Sharpie to draw a turtle on my sister's face, extending the head obscenely to resemble male genitalia. My sister's entire face was red and bruised. Her normally bright, doe-like eyes were swollen shut into mere slits. Wherever the Sharpie dragged across her edematous skin, it left deep, humiliating indentations and searing pain. The camera shook. My sister was kneeling on the floor, stripped completely naked, with a dog leash strapped tightly around her neck, restricting her movement. In the video, three girls and one guy were laughing, each louder than the last. The ringleader, a brunette girl, yanked my sister's hair back. After shaving her head in chaotic, ugly patches, she forced my sister to face the camera. "Be a good pet. Throw a peace sign for the VIP viewers." A weak, raspy sound squeezed out from my sister's throat. "You said... there was a stray kitten here that needed help... you lied to me." Hearing this, the brunette looked up and exchanged incredulous glances with the others, as if saying, Look at this retard! She covered her mouth and snorted, making a fist like a cat paw and tilting her head in mock innocence. "Do I look like a little kitten to you? Meow~" Another burst of maniacal laughter followed. The guy behind the camera was already losing patience. He urged them on. "Why are you wasting time talking to this retard? Let's get to the good stuff!" My poor sister was violently flipped upside down and pinned to the floor. Humiliated, she was forced to make a peace sign with her legs. The more frantic the bullies' laughter became, the more donations flooded the chat screen. Once the brunette had her fun, she adjusted her hair, leaned into the lens, and licked her lips. "What do the VIPs want to see next? We can do anything." Comments flew across the screen. "Have you guys ever done the live eel show? Let's bring back a classic." "+10086." "I'll fund this. Everyone else, match my donation." 2 The brunette put on an exaggerated look of regret. "Ah, we couldn't find the props on such short notice! We'll do it next stream." Another comment popped up: "How about golf balls? Three of them! I see a golf club set in the corner." The brunette looked over her shoulder, clapped her hands, and cheered, "That's brilliant!" My sister cried out in her hoarse voice, begging for mercy, but her pleas only fueled their sick frenzy. They pinned down my struggling sister like a fish flopping on a chopping block, entirely at their mercy. The deranged howling pierced through the phone speakers. My mother couldn't bear to watch the rest of the footage, turning her face away. But I stared directly into the lens. I wanted to burn every single one of their faces into my memory. A heavy-set girl pulled a frozen ice pop from a mini-fridge. A cruel smirk stretched across her fleshy face. "Let me numb the pain for you, sweetie, so you don't keep acting like a bitch in heat." The next second, agonizing pain caused my sister's neck to snap backward rigidly. Her entire body convulsed. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she passed out. A blood-soaked golf ball dropped into the frame. The brunette bent over, picked it up, and forcefully pinched my sister's swollen cheeks. "Weren't you the kind one? Weren't you the pretty one? Even Caleb likes you." "Don't think I don't know you're faking it. Look how much you're enjoying this. You like it, don't you?" She tried to violently shove the bloody golf ball into my sister's mouth, but my sister's jaw was locked tight in unconsciousness. She ordered the others to pry my sister's lips apart, then violently smashed the golf ball against my sister's teeth, like cracking an egg. The mixture of blood and shattered teeth nearly choked my sister to death. Bloody foam sputtered from her throat. The brunette shrieked, "Ew, gross!" and slapped my sister hard across the face. Then, the group burst into laughter again, as if this was the funniest thing in the world. My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. The violent, bloodthirsty nature I had suppressed for so long surged violently into my brain. "Hazel lost several teeth. Her lower body was severely torn, and they..." Tears streamed down my mother's face. She choked on her words. "They stapled her together with a heavy-duty stapler. The doctors say she'll need at least five reconstructive surgeries to barely regain normal function." "Not only that, they pumped her stomach and found thumbtacks... and... dismembered cat parts." "Your sister loves cats more than anything!" My mother couldn't hold it in anymore. She collapsed to the floor, covering her face and weeping bitterly. "What sin did I commit in a past life to deserve this?" "You didn't call the cops?" I glared at them, the accusation slipping out instantly. My mother cried even harder. "We were going to. But those monsters threatened us. They said they had even more graphic videos. If we called the police, they would release them and ruin Hazel's life forever." 3 The combined manipulation of the school and the bullies' parents was what completely eradicated my last shred of sanity. After weighing their options, my parents had decided to go to the school to demand justice. But the administration played dead. The school leadership claimed that without witnessing it firsthand, the video could be a deepfake. They said they could photoshop ten similar videos if they wanted to. All of this was because the brunette girl's father sat on the school's Board of Directors. That scumbag of a man not only refused to admit his daughter was wrong, but he also pointed the finger at my parents. "Maybe you should get your daughter checked to see if her mental retardation has gotten worse. Or maybe check yourselves, since you're blindly believing a retard's nonsense. I'm a busy man, unlike you people." Before leaving, he couldn't resist a final jab. "Don't forget, we only let your daughter into this school out of charity for the disabled. You should have some self-awareness and show some gratitude." Even my sister's homeroom teacher testified on behalf of the bullies, claiming my sister was two-faced and frequently bullied others. The victim was suddenly crowned the bully, spat on by everyone. Unable to endure it any longer, my dad went to the bullies' corporate offices to demand justice. Instead, he was dragged into a blind spot with no security cameras and beaten brutally by security guards. He suffered severe lacerations and a fractured right leg, and he is still bedridden at home. The bullies faced absolutely zero consequences, while my family's world was completely destroyed. I had never heard of such twisted logic in my life. After much deliberation, my mother decided to play me an audio recording. It was from when my dad went to confront that gang of bullies. The bullies were unimaginably arrogant, openly taunting my dad. "If you insist on calling it bullying, well! Then I guess we're bullies." "When is she getting out of the hospital? Next time, I'll give her a free sex-change operation, hahahaha!" The laughter pierced through my mother's heart. When she looked at me, her eyes were filled with absolute despair. A smile crept onto my lips. "Bullying? Let me tell you... inside juvie, I am the absolute master of bullying." 4 My name is Harper Hayes. My sister Hazel and I are twins, but we are the absolute extremes of good and evil. When we were little, we saw a diseased, dying puppy on the street. My sister cried, grieving over the puppy's suffering. I thought about it for a second, grabbed the puppy's neck, and snapped it in one motion. To me, the fastest way to end suffering was death. But my sister screamed and cried in horror. During deer hunting season at our uncle's farm, my sister would always pass out crying from the sight of the slaughter. But I was always the main force pinning the deer down. I had more strength than anyone. Watching the blade go in white and come out red, feeling the warm spray of blood hit my face, a deeply addictive sense of satisfaction would always rise in my chest. It wasn't until we were older that my parents finally noticed my sister's delayed reactions. They took her for testing, and she was diagnosed with a mild intellectual disability. My parents were heartbroken. They repeatedly instructed me to always look after my sister. I engraved that mission deeply into my heart. But disasters rarely come alone. During the Fourth of July, a bratty neighborhood kid mocked my sister for being a "retard" and intentionally threw lit firecrackers at us. I pinned the kid to the ground, lit a fistful of M80s, and shoved them all directly into his mouth. The blast shattered his un-erupted adult teeth. His parents howled and demanded a million dollars in compensation. My dad made me kneel in the living room to pray to God for forgiveness. He was sick with worry. "Harper, do you know how much you've broken his parents' hearts by doing this?" I thought really hard about how to prevent his parents from being sad. Finally, I came to a conclusion. "Then let's just kill his parents too. Then they won't be sad anymore." My parents' faces drained of color. They looked at me in sheer terror. They took me in for testing too. The results showed that my body contained the MAOA gene mutation—the "Warrior Gene." Simply put, I was a born psychopath. I had a genius-level IQ but was extremely violent. I was a natural-born monster, exceptionally skilled at manipulation and disguise. My thought process was completely alien to normal people, and I loved using extreme, permanent methods to solve problems. Just as the doctors predicted, I was a magnet for trouble. When I was nine, a boy in my class mocked me, saying my cold, dead eyes made me look like an anime villain. I tricked him into following me out back, took a brick, and smashed his mouth to an unrecognizable pulp. Then, I ran to the police station crying, saying a boy was chasing me and tripped and smashed his own face. When I was eleven, Uncle Frank refused to pay back a loan he owed my dad for years. At the dinner table, he mocked my dad for being a cheapskate. I waited until he got drunk and stumbled outside to pee. I grabbed a meat cleaver and chopped his hand so deeply it was only hanging on by a flap of skin. Then I ran back to my relatives, crying that Uncle Frank had dirty hands and tried to touch me. Although I became a frequent guest at the juvenile detention center, I never stayed locked up for long. Every time I went in, I just learned new tricks before getting out. That was until I was sixteen, and I finally slipped up. 5 My sister had kindly helped up an old lady who had tripped and fallen on her own. In return, the scamming old hag claimed my sister was the one who pushed her. The old lady lay in a hospital bed, refusing to be discharged, screaming that my sister had paralyzed her. Facing the local news cameras, her wrinkled face was twisted in malicious greed. "I am a God-fearing old woman! I never tell lies!" Her family jumped up and down, fueling the fire. "If you didn't push her, why did you help her up?" Because of that, I found an opportunity to kidnap the old hag, tied her up, and repeatedly ran her over with an ATV. She got exactly what she asked for. She was permanently paralyzed. This time, I was caught because a security camera caught the act. I couldn't talk my way out of it. I hate security cameras. Because I was old enough to be tried, I was sentenced to one year and eight months. With good behavior, I only served one year. My "good behavior" was simply because no one inside dared to cross me. I lived very comfortably. The vibration of my sister's phone pulled me back from my memories. It was a message from those scumbags. "Make sure you show up next semester. We haven't had enough fun yet." Fun? We'll see who's playing who. With a face devoid of all life, I slowly turned my head and gave my mother a sweet, innocent, somewhat dopey smile. "Do I look like Hazel?" My mother violently flinched. "You do..." I spent the entire winter break doing exactly one thing: compiling data on the bullies. I dug up a class activity video from their social media accounts. In the video, everyone shared their dreams. Watching it now was wildly ironic. The brunette girl stood confidently in front of the camera, speaking eloquently. "My name is Blair Sterling. I want to become a philanthropist, to help people in need so they can have food, warmth, and never suffer again." Blair lived in an ultra-wealthy gated community. I specifically took a temporary job as a delivery driver in her area to stake out her house. Blair's dad was a corporate CEO and sat on the school board. Her mom was a high-powered defense attorney. Because her parents were always away on business, they spoiled Blair rotten. She grew into an arrogant, untouchable tyrant, the reigning queen bee of several local high schools. Blair had actually been involved in a scandal before. Just because a girl wore the same dress as her, she and her gang beat and humiliated the teenager in a VIP club room. The girl suffered a mental breakdown and jumped off a building to her death. The incident miraculously vanished from the internet shortly after. The other two girls in her clique: one wanted to be a doctor to save lives. The other wanted to be a teacher to educate the youth. They seemed like Blair's besties, but they were actually her lackeys and enforcers. They helped her commit atrocities in exchange for scraps of her wealth and influence. The guy was Trent Lawson. He swung his fists in the air, looking like an upright citizen. "My dream is to be a police officer, to punish the bad guys and be an agent of justice." Trent was a classic trust-fund brat. He used to pursue Blair, but she kept him on the hook like a desperate fish. He did all her dirty work without complaint. For fun, he frequently spread vile rumors about my sister and photoshopped her face onto obituary photos. Is there such a thing as karma in school bullying? 6 Clearly, God doesn't always have eyes. These bullies usually come from powerful families. They have money and backing. The idea of "karmic justice" is usually just a delusion victims cling to in order to survive. If someone like me didn't exist, maybe they really would live perfect, happy lives, effortlessly reaching heights that normal people struggle a lifetime for. Too bad for them. Their only dream moving forward is going to be escaping my demonic grasp. The moment I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the eerie smile on my face seamlessly shifted into Hazel's innocent, dopey expression. Like a wild beast entering the city, society's red lights meant absolutely nothing to me. School had just started. Everyone was in a good mood. The homeroom teacher, Mrs. Higgins, was at the front directing the students' morning cleaning duties. Blair and her three lackeys sat by the back door eating sunflower seeds. Their giggling, obnoxious vibe clashed completely with the working students. Blair chewed her bubblegum while pulling a bottle of designer perfume from her bag, spraying it generously into her hair. Trent had a cigarette between his fingers, blowing smoke rings right in front of Mrs. Higgins, who completely ignored him. Gwen Miller, the heavy-set girl, was spitting out sunflower seed shells with a mocking expression. "I wonder if Hazel the Retard is going to show up. If she doesn't, we're going to lose a lot of our entertainment." Blair put down her perfume and rolled her eyes. "Whatever school she transfers to, we'll just go wait outside their gates and jump her." Trent flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor, sending a shower of sparks across the linoleum. "Fuck. I didn't get to have enough fun last time. Next time I'm definitely bringing the live eels. Thick, fat ones." Right at that moment, I pushed the door open and walked in. Mrs. Higgins, with her hands on her hips, turned around. Seeing it was me, her eyebrows instantly knotted together in fury. "Your parents caused a massive scene and made me lose my entire performance bonus last year! You actually have the nerve to show your face here?" I ignored her, but she wouldn't shut up. "If your brain is broken, don't come to school. It's not like every piece of trash can actually make something of themselves." "You're a rat turd ruining the whole pot of soup. Failing students like you should just drop dead." Blair looked at me with amusement, dragging out her words lazily. "What's a little performance bonus, Mrs. Higgins? I'll have my dad promote you to Dean later." Mrs. Higgins instantly flipped her expression into a spineless, sycophantic grin. "Yes, yes, of course. Please thank the Board Member for me." I let out a cold sneer. "Oh, so you're just a lapdog." The tiny shred of dignity Mrs. Higgins had left shattered into pieces in front of the students. She exploded instantly. "What the hell did you just say?!" She aggressively stomped toward me. Seeing I didn't back down an inch, she suddenly stopped. "Oh, I forgot. Your broke, desperate dad kneeling at the school gates trying to extort us for money... that looked like a dog begging for scraps!" I cupped my hand around my ear and said breezily, "Listen, classmates. A dog is barking." Mrs. Higgins lost her mind. "I'll rip your mouth off!" She lunged at me. The moment her hand reached my face, I grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. I yanked it backward. Snap! The sickening sound of a joint dislocating echoed through the room, accompanied by Mrs. Higgins howling like a slaughtered pig. 7 I cleared my throat and intentionally screamed even louder than her. "Teacher, please don't pull my ear! It hurts so much!" The noise drew a crowd of students from the hallway. Mrs. Higgins was in agony but couldn't break free. I executed a swift spin, twisting her dislocated finger into a sickening contortion. "Ahhhh! My finger!" "Ahhhh! My ear!" Mr. Davis, an intern teacher from the classroom next door, rushed in to break up the fight. "Mrs. Higgins, how could you rip a student's ear like that?" Mrs. Higgins was in so much pain she couldn't speak. Thick beads of sweat formed on her forehead. I leaned in close to her ear, gloating. "Teacher, you better go get that checked out fast. What if you wait too long and they can't reattach the finger?" I let go. Mrs. Higgins's hand trembled violently, her dislocated finger dangling loosely. Terrified to say another word, she let Mr. Davis support her and rushed off toward the hospital. At this point, Blair still hadn't noticed anything unusual. She just thought the entertainment had returned. She pulled a box cutter from her desk, slid the blade out, and pointed it at me. "Come here." I slowly walked toward her. Every step made my heart race with excitement, my whole body trembling. But to everyone else in the room, it looked like I was absolutely terrified. Blair grabbed a dirty mop bucket and hocked a loogie directly into the filthy water. Seeing this, her lackeys immediately followed suit. Within seconds, the murky water was coated in a thick layer of yellow phlegm. Blair crossed her arms, casually kicked the bucket toward me, and tilted her head. "Retard. A welcome-back gift. Drink it." My eyes scanned the room. Every single student in the class was watching the show. Not a single person stepped up to help. Behind Blair sat a boy with dark hair, his head lowered. I heard someone call his name. "Caleb." That was the guy who got my sister targeted for revenge in the first place. Trent pulled out a cigarette, looking incredibly amused. "Hold on. Light my cigarette first." I blankly took the lighter from his hand. Everyone watching burst into hysterical laughter. "Look at that dumb look on her face. She really is a retard! Hahahaha!" If the person being humiliated right now was still my sister, she would be in unbearable agony. Too bad for them. I am not my sister. I grabbed the designer perfume off Blair's desk, pulled off the cap, and poured a mouthful of the alcohol-heavy liquid into my mouth. Under the shocked stares of the crowd, I smiled, flicked the lighter, and blew the mouthful of perfume directly at Blair's face. The moment the aerosolized perfume hit the flame, it erupted into a roaring fireball, swallowing Blair's arrogant, domineering face. The stench of burning protein filled the classroom. Blair's beautiful brunette hair instantly caught fire. She jumped and shrieked in absolute terror, screaming for someone to put it out. Put it out? I love helping my classmates. I grabbed her by her burning hair and slammed her face directly into the desk. Bang! Bang! Bang! Each impact was louder and crisper than the last. The fire went out. She was seeing stars. She clung weakly to the edge of the desk just to keep from collapsing. Let me give her a helping hand. 8 I hooked the handle of the mop bucket with the toe of my shoe, smoothly caught it with my right hand, flipped it upside down, and slammed the entire bucket of phlegm-water directly over Blair's head. It all happened so incredibly fast and brutally. Forget her little minions not having time to react; even Blair was caught completely off guard. She inhaled sharply in shock, choking on the filthy water and dry-heaving violently. Blair's delicate skin was clearly going to blister from the burns. She screamed hysterically. "What are you idiots doing?! Beat this dead bitch to death!" The others finally snapped out of it, pulling out their own box cutters. Trent was the first to charge at me. I casually tilted my head, dodging his wild swing. The next second, I was standing behind him, chuckling darkly. "Too slow. Let me show you what fast looks like." I wrenched his knife-wielding arm backward, slammed it flat onto the desk right beneath a heavy-duty industrial stapler, and slammed my fist down on it. Over and over again. "Ahhhhh! My hand!" Thick metal staples drove deep into the flesh and muscle of his palm, only stopping when the stapler jammed against his bone. Looking at the blood streaming down his hand, I screamed at the top of my lungs, throwing my hands in the air, looking absolutely terrified. "Stop bullying me!" With that, I sprinted frantically toward the classroom door. Those idiots actually thought I was scared and chased after me. I hid behind the heavy wooden door. The moment Riley, the freckle-faced girl, stuck her head out, I slammed the door shut with everything I had. SLAM! A rush of wind followed by the sound of cartilage crunching. Riley's deformed, twisted face collapsed backward. She squatted on the ground, howling in agony, clutching her head. I delivered a swift soccer kick straight to her face, sending her flying onto her back. Trent pried the door open and limped after me. I turned and sprinted into the girls' bathroom. Blair screamed excitedly, "She went into the girls' room! Block the door! She's dead!" I smiled. They thought they had trapped me. In reality, as I stood in the corner of the tiled bathroom smiling maniacally, it was the predator locking the prey inside the cage. Blair locked the heavy bathroom door from the inside. In pain and seething with hatred, she inspected the forming blisters on her face in the mirror. "It hurts so much. I am going to absolutely end you today." I backed away slowly as she advanced step by step. She still thought I was my frail, weak sister. She reached out to grab my shirt. But she didn't realize that the moment I entered her strike zone... she had entered mine. I delivered a devastating, hammer-like cross straight to her face. The entire left side of her pristine face deformed on impact. The fresh blood blisters ruptured, oozing yellow fluid. Only a transparent flap of loose skin was left hanging off her cheek. During New Year's on the farm, it only took me three punches to knock out a full-grown pig. If I didn't want to play with her a little longer, she would have been unconscious on the floor already. Blair shrieked in agony, trying to touch the wounds on her face but terrified of the pain. I pulled out my phone, threw an arm around her shoulder, and aimed the camera at her mangled face. "Say cheese." "Cheese your mom, you psycho!" "Now I'm unhappy."
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