When a gentle new sister appeared in our home, I saw my brother smile for the first time in ages. He said she would live with us and take care of me like he did. I grabbed a greeting card and ran over, asking if she knew my brother’s New Year’s wish. She knelt, patted my head, and smiled. “His biggest wish is for you to disappear from this world.” Suddenly, memories rushed back—my parents lying in blood, my brother’s broken vow at their grave, the dishes I’d smashed, his endless tears. After the tragedy, I became the “idiot” everyone whispered about. Our money drained fast because of my illness. Brother studied by day, worked at night. He’d come home exhausted to a house I’d trashed. I’d throw filth at him, screaming that he wanted to hurt me. He never got angry, just held me with red eyes, repeating, “I’m your brother.” Later, my illness grew worse. He had to take me everywhere. One day, I ruined yet another job he’d finally found. He crouched on the floor, back to me, shoulders shaking. “Celeste, why don’t you just die?” His voice broke. “Please… stop tormenting me.” That sentence unlocked my memory. I walked over, wiped his face with my sleeve, and whispered, “Brother, don’t cry.” He turned and hugged me tight, sobbing apologies. But now I see—those moments of clarity, his occasional tenderness, were just the calm before the storm. Some wishes were never just words. 1 I stared blankly at my sister, and it took a long time for a sentence to tumble out of my mouth: “Die, what is ‘die’?” My sister scoffed, saying mockingly, “You really are an idiot, you don’t even know what dying is.” She knelt down and patiently explained to me, “‘Die’ is like your mom and dad, gone, no longer existing.” I backed away three steps in terror, shaking my head. “Brother says, don’t want Celeste to die.” My sister stood up, looking down at me. “Your brother has changed his mind. He told me his wish is for you to disappear.” “So, Celeste, go die quickly. It’s good for your brother and good for me.” I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the greeting card in my hands, trying hard to understand what my sister said. When I came to, I saw the sliced fruit scattered all over the table, and the trash from the bin had spilled out. No, the house is so messy, Brother will be angry. So, I knelt down, wanting to put the trash back in the bin. There was a noise outside. The front door opened. Brother was home. I flashed him a smile, about to say that Celeste was very good today, when I saw my sister run crying to him, throwing herself into his embrace. She pointed at the trash on the floor and said, “I really can’t handle your sister anymore. I fed her fruit, and not only did she refuse to eat it, but she also threw things everywhere!” A hint of an apologetic smile appeared on Brother’s face. He stroked my sister’s head and said, “You’ve worked hard, Honey. Sigh… The doctor said my sister’s condition was improving, and I didn’t expect her to start again after just a few days.” My mouth slightly agape, I instinctively wanted to refute, but my mind couldn’t form a complete sentence. I could only stammer, “Celeste, didn’t…” My sister glanced at me, then complained to Brother again, “She’s even lying now.” Brother sighed, knelt down, and said to me, “Celeste, lying is wrong.” “And, didn’t Brother tell you to listen to your sister at home? Why didn’t you listen?” I was bewildered. But… sister told me to die. Brother, do I really have to listen to my sister? My already damaged CPU was overheating. My head swam, and I collapsed softly into Brother’s arms. My sister leaned over and asked, “Can your sister really recover?” Brother held me tighter, stating with certainty, “Yes, even if there’s only a one in ten thousand chance, I will cure my sister!” Brother didn’t notice the dark shadow that flickered in my sister’s eyes. But soon, she said softly, “Mmm, you go to work. I’ll help you take care of your sister.” Brother’s eyes welled up with emotion, and my nightmare truly began. One day, she sat on the sofa watching TV, calling me over to massage her legs. I clumsily massaged her, but she kicked me away. “Are you an idiot? You can’t even massage legs?” I was kicked several feet away, crying out in pain. My sister, however, complained to my brother when he returned, saying I wasn’t listening again. Brother could only repeatedly tell me to listen to my sister. I choked back sobs, reaching out to hug him like he used to, but Brother slapped my hand away, saying firmly: “Celeste, say it, ‘I will listen to my sister.’” I cried, trembling, mumbling indistinctly, “Brother says, I have to, listen to my sister…” At this, my sister hugged me tenderly and told my brother, “Vincent, your sister is still a child. Don’t be so harsh. It’s fine if I suffer a little.” Brother was so touched that he didn’t notice my lips were white with fear in my sister’s embrace. My sister saw that my brother fully believed her. From then on, whenever my brother wasn’t around, my sister became a different person. She would secretly pinch the inside of my arm. I instinctively wanted to pull my hand back, but then I heard my sister say, “Celeste, your brother told you to listen to your sister, didn’t he?” “Hold out your hand!” So, I cried while extending my arm to my sister. She seemed to hate me terribly, pinching with all her might each time. I was almost crying myself unconscious when my brother arrived. My sister quickly pulled down my sleeve and turned to throw herself into my brother’s arms. She transformed herself into a victim in just one second. “Vincent, your sister is truly impossible. She won’t listen at all!” One day, a spark ignited in my mind. I rolled up my sleeve and showed my bruises to my brother. He paused. My sister quickly said apologetically, “It’s my fault for not watching Celeste properly.” “You know, this child still can’t walk steadily. She bumps herself and gets bruises everywhere in no time.” Brother remembered that almost every time he opened the door, he would see me sitting on the ground, crying in pain. The next day, Brother wrapped all the furniture in the house with foam padding. My sister gritted her teeth and said to me, “Celeste, your brother is truly good to you.” I nodded and said, “Brother, is good to Celeste, doesn’t want Celeste to die.” My sister let out three cold laughs, then casually picked up a hanger and swung it at me, hitting me on the head. I cried out in pain, calling for Brother. But my sister said, “Your brother’s away on a business trip. He won’t be back for half a month.” “You little brat, you even want to tattle on me to your brother!” She pinched my chin with her left hand and slapped me hard with her right, leaving my face swollen. I trembled uncontrollably, crying, but she became more and more excited with each blow, until someone knocked on the door. She frantically gagged me and shoved me under the covers, then went to open the door. It was the neighbor, Mrs. Davies. She asked, “What’s going on? Celeste is crying so hard.” My sister forced a weak smile and said, “She’s having another episode. She keeps saying I’m the murderer of her parents, and I can’t calm her down.” Mrs. Davies looked a little sympathetic, took out some small cookies, and said, “These siblings have it tough. I made some cookies, go try to comfort Celeste.” Mrs. Davies made to enter. My sister immediately blocked her, saying, “No need, Mrs. Davies. I’ll take care of Celeste.” Taking the cookies from Mrs. Davies, my sister closed and locked the door. She sat on the sofa, legs crossed, eating the cookies Mrs. Davies had given me, saying as she ate, “You’d better be good these next few days and not cause me any trouble.” After that, she took a rope, tied me up at home, and left. I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I couldn’t reach it. The rope chafed my neck; it hurt so much. I couldn’t hold it anymore and made a mess on the floor. When she came back, she kicked me twice. Then she took a picture of the mess and sent it to my brother, crying, “What am I going to do, Vincent? I can’t take it anymore. I looked away for a second, and she made a mess all over the floor. Is your sister deliberately trying to get at me…?” Brother immediately replied, “How could this happen? Sweetheart, I’ll send you money to hire a cleaner. You’ve really had it tough.” Brother sent many apologetic emojis. After the cleaner finished and left, my sister walked over with a dark expression and slapped me. “Useless thing! Can’t even control your own waste!” After venting, she looked at me lying on the floor like a dead fish and said coldly, “If you dare to tattle on me to your brother again, I’ll keep hitting you!” “To be honest with you, all your brother’s previous girlfriends left him because of you.” “Only I am willing to accept you.” “How much money has your brother spent to cure your illness?” “Don’t you think you’re a burden?” “Celeste, if you truly love your brother, you should be sensible and stop hindering your brother’s bright future.” I took my sister’s words to heart. I really was a burden. When Brother returned from his business trip, he brought my sister a gold necklace. My sister beamed, “Gold is so expensive now, you really bought it for me…” Brother said it wasn’t easy for my sister to take care of me, and he would buy her gold jewelry every month from now on. My sister smiled even more happily. But suddenly, my sister’s smile froze. Because Brother took a gold bracelet out of his bag. It was more expensive than my sister’s gold necklace. When Brother put the bracelet on my wrist, he said, “Celeste, Happy New Year. Brother wishes you peace and happiness for life.” My sister said somewhat stiffly, “Vincent, aren’t you afraid of the idiot, no, your sister, losing the bracelet?” I got a little angry, and for the first time, I talked back to my sister: “No, Celeste won’t be that careless.” Hearing my words, Brother happily grabbed my sister’s hand and said, “Did you hear that? Celeste said such a long sentence for the first time!” “She’s definitely going to recover.” Brother embraced me in surprise, then noticed the still unhealed injury on my neck, asking confusedly, “Celeste, how did you get hurt?” I wanted to tell Brother that my sister bullied me. But before I could speak, Brother’s attention was drawn to the cut on my sister’s finger. “It’s all your sister’s fault for wanting an apple, causing me to accidentally cut my hand.” She was lying… She clearly hurt her hand when she was out playing. I opened my mouth and said, “It wasn’t… it wasn’t because of me.” But no one heard what I said. Thankfully, Brother would have many days off after this business trip. I could finally avoid being beaten by my sister, and not have to eat food off the floor like a dog, or be videotaped and laughed at by my sister. But I also knew Brother wouldn’t stay with me forever. Suddenly, I remembered what Mom used to tell me: “Celeste, if anyone bullies you, you must, must tell your family.” Yes, I should listen to Mom and tell Brother that my sister bullied me. But when my sister was around, I never had a chance to talk to Brother. The moment I appeared, my sister would stare chillingly at my gold bracelet, her expression terrifying. I could only cover my bracelet, hide in my room, and secretly listen to the sounds outside. Finally, one day, my sister received Brother’s transfer and left. Hearing the front door close, I quickly ran out and pulled on Brother’s sleeve, saying, “Sister, bad, bully me.” Brother, of course, didn’t believe me. After all, I used to say Brother was a bad guy. Brother knelt down and told me, “Celeste, if you wrongly accuse someone like this, your sister will be sad.” I shook my head, very earnestly saying, “Not wrong.” I ran to the utility room, found the rope my sister used to tie me up, put it around my own neck. Then I placed the rope by the table leg, lay on the floor, and looked up at Brother, saying, “Sister made me eat like this.” “She tied me, here.” “I need to go to the bathroom, can’t walk there, my neck hurts.” I pointed to the wound on my neck, explaining haltingly. Brother’s eyes grew increasingly serious. He rolled up my sleeve and saw that even with all the furniture padded, I had more bruises than last time. “Sister hit you?” he asked. I nodded. Brother said, “I see.” That day, I hid in my room. I heard Brother and my sister arguing for the first time outside. “You believe what an idiot says?” My sister’s voice was even louder than Brother’s. She shrieked hysterically, “Your sister never liked me, she thinks I stole your love, and you actually believe her?” “I must have been blind to choose you. My parents both said I wouldn’t be happy with you, yet I broke ties with them, came here to help you take care of your sister, and now you suspect me…” My sister cried so heartbreakingly that I felt a bit confused looking at my own wounds. Could it be that I really just bumped myself?
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