Call Me Lucky: I'm Winning in Life

"Gosh, I'm starving…" I mumbled, my eyes dull and lifeless.

Crowds came and went on the street, yet everyone who saw me quickly stepped aside with a look of disgust. I ignored their stares and spotted a trash can up ahead.

Stumbling over, I bent down and dug through it, my whole upper body practically inside it. This time, I got a bit lucky. I found some spoiled leftover burger, covered in a shiny green liquid.

Without a single care, I shoved it straight into my mouth.

It had been three days since I last ate. The sour, rotten patty was impossible to swallow. After just a few seconds, I gagged and threw it all up.

My stomach growled loudly, and my eyes stung. I clutched the trash can with both hands, choking on my breath. Not a single tear came out, though—all that I could manage was a hoarse, broken whimper.

I longed for just a bite of fresh bread, yet right now, that seemed almost too much to wish for.

"You must be famished." Whitney Johnson, my adopted sister, sounded cold and mocking as she stood behind me.

I sniffed, not looking at her. I didn't even have the strength to lift my head. I leaned against the trash can as flies buzzed angrily against my face, annoyed that I'd disturbed their meal.

"What do you want this time?" I asked weakly.

Ever since Simon Campbell, the school heartthrob, passed away, Whitney had set me up repeatedly, tarnishing my name and turning everyone against me. The entire city had blacklisted me—no one would hire me, not even for washing dishes.

She took her time tormenting me. Every time I was on the verge of starvation, she would show up and say she wanted to "play a game". She treated me like a puppet—if I amused her enough, I would get a cracker or even a burger.

She once livestreamed me cleaning every public restroom in the city. My reward? A packet of crackers.

Another time, she put a metal collar around my neck and walked me through the streets like a spectacle for people to gawk at.

At that moment, a cold laugh escaped Whitney before she ordered the bodyguard behind her, "Grab him."

The bodyguard grabbed me and carelessly dragged me toward the van. My feet scraped against the ground, a sharp, burning pain shooting through them. I bit my lip so hard that I drew blood.

She simply stared at me, her gaze icy. Even as I left a trail of blood along the street, she acted like she didn't see a thing.

People around us pointed and whispered, but no one dared to step in. After all, who would risk angering the unpredictable daughter of the Johnson family?

Not to mention, the last person who'd tried to help me was still in the hospital, with both arms broken and their fingers mangled.

Since then, I'd stopped hoping someone would save me. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of me.

I stared blankly at Whitney. She was no longer the reliable elder sister who used to look at me with so much warmth.

Gone was the girl who would sneak into the kitchen through the window late at night to steal meat pies for me, simply because the orphanage director was too stingy to feed us properly.

I could still remember how I used to crouch in a corner, my eyes red as I devoured those pies like I hadn't eaten in days.

"Are you a piggy? You're really pigging out," Whitney had said gently back then.