My sister called, battered and bruised, begging for help. Protecting her, I accidentally killed her husband. But in court, she refused to testify for me. She blamed me for taking Leo’s father away. Mom and Dad joined in, accusing me of ruining Brooke’s life. I was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years in prison. They tormented me day and night, until I died of depression behind bars. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment Brooke called for help… “Cassidy, save me!” Brooke’s heartbroken scream tore through the phone, a wild, beast-like roar echoing behind her. “I’ll kill you! I’ll absolutely kill you!” Julian’s enraged voice mixed with Brooke’s pleas, followed by a series of brutal thuds against a door. One, two… I froze. This scene, I’d lived through it before! And it was just six months before I died. I took a deep breath, my mind reeling back to that night. Six months ago, Julian had come home dead drunk. Brooke had simply asked where he’d been, and he’d grabbed her, slapping her a dozen times. She’d cried, begging for mercy, but he wouldn’t let up. He’d sworn she dared to meddle in his business and that he was going to kill her that night. She’d shrieked, fleeing into the bathroom, locking herself inside, and risking everything to call me, her voice trembling. When I’d arrived, I was greeted by a scene from hell, unlike anything I’d ever witnessed: Julian stood amidst shattered glass and broken things, a cleaver raised in his hand, furiously hacking at the bathroom door. One, two… His eyes were bloodshot, like a wild animal’s, roaring that he’d smash the door down and hack Brooke to death. Brooke’s cries, Julian’s roars, the brutal thuds of the cleaver against the door, the hissing, spitting sound of something boiling over on the stove… All sounds mashed together, instantly igniting something primal in me. No! He couldn’t kill my sister! My first instinct was to charge, to wrench the knife from his grasp. I didn’t even stop to consider if I’d become another casualty in his rampage. I’d never felt death so close. I stared into those bloodshot eyes, the eyes of a grim reaper. He held the knife in an iron grip, and I desperately clung to his wrist, fighting to stop him from bringing it down. Blood began to drip, drop by agonizing drop. My strength was draining away, little by little. And my *dear* sister? She stayed locked behind that bathroom door, utterly still. I don’t remember what happened next. When I regained consciousness, Julian was lying in a pool of blood, and Brooke was crying, shaking him. Then, the piercing wail of ambulances and the blare of police sirens filled the air. One phrase echoed relentlessly in my mind: “It was her! *She* did it! She killed my husband! Arrest this murderer!” Just then, Brooke wailed again: “Cassidy, hurry, save me! He’s gone crazy!” Cassidy? She still knew my name. But when she’d been ‘grieving’ her precious husband, she hadn’t called me that. She’d not only screamed “murderer” at the police, demanding I pay for murder with my life. She’d also adamantly refused to testify for me in court. Her reasoning? She argued that the charge wasn’t severe enough. Manslaughter? No, she insisted it should be premeditated murder. Because if it was only manslaughter, the chance of me getting the death penalty would be far too low. Even after I was sentenced to ten years, she’d visited me in prison, staring at me coldly, asking how I dared to still be alive. “You monster! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You made me a widow! You took Leo’s father away! How dare you only get ten years? Is this what our tax dollars are for? To keep *you* alive? You’re depressed? Will your depression bring my husband back? What will you give to atone for this? You murderer! Murderer!” I’d heard those words countless times in prison. “Cassidy, why aren’t you saying anything? Cassidy?” I took a deep breath. From start to finish, she was only desperate for me to rescue *her*. But she’d never once considered if *I* might be killed by him. Nor had she ever suggested I call the police to arrest her husband. She just wanted me to ‘make peace,’ so she could reconcile with Julian, *after* he’d had his fill of hitting her, and go back to her ‘happy’ life. How could I have been so blind to such selfish thoughts in my previous life? But this time, I wouldn’t interfere with her “happiness” ever again.
I held my phone, my voice flat, almost devoid of emotion. “I’m busy right now, I can’t make it back. You’ve always had a choice. If you don’t want a divorce but you want to *live*, then figure it out on your own. And by the way, if you encounter a murderer, call the police. Calling me won’t do anything.” With that, I hung up. I knew she must be utterly stunned. From childhood, I had always indulged her, never letting her suffer even the slightest slight. In school, she was the enviable goody-two-shoes, while I was the tough-as-nails girl everyone feared. Whenever she was bullied by the queen bees, I would step out and challenge them to square off against me. “Cassidy, you saved me! You’re the best sister ever!” Each time, she’d look at me with tear-filled eyes. But who knew? Turns out, a ‘good sister’ was easily disposable when a ‘good husband’ was on the line. The most ironic part was, when I was in prison, one of my cellmates was one of those very queen bees from back then. When she heard the full story, she was furious on my behalf: “Seriously, is Brooke out of her mind? Giving up her own sister for *that* kind of man? You did so much for her back then, and this is what you get? It’s not worth it, Cassidy.” No, of course it wasn’t worth it. Lost in thought, I walked back home. The moment I opened the door, I was hit by a full-blown verbal assault from Mom and Dad. “You ungrateful girl! Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea your sister almost *died* just now?” I thought they were mad at me for being indifferent, but their next words nearly made my jaw drop: “And you had the nerve to tell your sister to call the police? Are you insane?” “If the police take Julian away, how do you expect to make it up to Brooke and her family?” “Doesn’t Leo need his father? Doesn’t Brooke need her husband? Are you just jealous that your sister has a family?” They went on and on, their faces red with fury, all condemning me for speaking without thinking, for trying to break up the family. It was laughable. They’re retired educators, for crying out loud, yet their minds are still so stubbornly stuck in the past. Why hadn’t I noticed their bizarre behavior in my previous life? Back then, after I was jailed, the old couple would visit me every visiting day, just to scream at me. They accused me of ruining Brooke’s home, of destroying their precious Leo. Eventually, I refused to see them anymore. But their emotional abuse, it was relentless. It seeped into every corner of my mind. I couldn’t understand why, after I had protected them and accidentally killed that piece of trash, they still considered *him* the source of their happiness. And me? The killer who destroyed it all? I didn’t get it. I tossed and turned every night, consumed by sorrow. Even Raven kept telling me it was my family who had problems, not me, but I couldn’t accept that the family I’d protected and loved with all my might for a lifetime would collectively turn on me so cruelly. In the end, I had a mental breakdown and bit off my tongue, dying by suicide. No one came to see me, even at the very end. Since you care so much about that man, and so highly value the ‘integrity’ of the family, Then this life, I’ll grant your wish. I sneered. “I didn’t tell her to call the police. I just said if she’s in danger, she should know to call them. What’s wrong with that? Besides, she still had enough strength to complain to you, so she’s clearly fine, isn’t she? Why are you two so worked up about it now?” “Fine?” My dad’s temper flared again. “She’s only ‘fine’ because *we* went and knelt before him! You child, how can you be so cold-blooded and selfish!” “Alright, alright, Leo’s asleep, everyone quiet down.” Just then, Brooke’s bedroom door opened, and she walked out, dark circles under her swollen eyes. Her face was still bruised and puffy; she’d clearly taken a beating. The moment Leo’s name was mentioned, my parents instantly fell silent, as if their grandchild was royalty in this house. Ridiculous. I rolled my eyes. I’m not trying to be dark, but that kid of Brooke’s? Mark my words, he’s going to end up in serious trouble, probably get himself killed.
Leo was the most annoying kid I’d ever met. If Mom and Dad hadn’t brought Brooke and him to my place without my permission this time, I would never have allowed that little brat to set foot in my house. He inherited all of Julian’s worst habits, and with my parents’ endless spoiling, he was utterly lawless. The most malicious incident happened at a wedding, where he deliberately ran into a pregnant woman’s stomach, just because he thought it would be ‘fun’ to see if her belly would flatten. He was already in second grade; he knew exactly what a flattened belly meant. Yet this little monster was treated like gold by the whole family. Brooke refused to divorce, partly because she was hopelessly in love, but also because she couldn’t bear to lose her son. She was the quintessential doting wife and ‘boy-mom,’ it had to be said. But people like her never feel like *they* are suffering; only those around her, like me, suffer. In my last life, I’d urged her to let go, to abandon both father and son. Instead, I got a three-on-one tongue-lashing from her and my parents. Sure enough, his arrival this time meant more trouble for me. That night, everyone was asleep, but I faintly heard some rustling in the living room. I opened my door to find that little monster using a utility knife to scratch something on the windowsill. Sleepy-eyed, I flipped on the light, and the sight before me instantly made my scalp crawl. On the windowsill, my four pet guinea pigs were splayed open, gutted, lying in a row, blood pooled all over the floor. “Ah!!!” I shut my eyes and let out the most piercing scream of my life. The sound seemed to hit some twisted pleasure center in his brain; Leo immediately burst into maniacal laughter. “What are you doing?! Why did you kill the guinea pigs?!” I erupted, fear, rage, and grief clenching my heart. I didn’t even know if I was speaking to a person or a demon. “It was fun.” He said, then picked one up and started walking towards me, as if trying to provoke me further. “Get away!” I shrieked, backing away. I was terrified of him, and I dared not scold him, because I truly didn’t know what he was capable of.
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