In the Hands of Monsters

I looked up in confusion, wondering if I'd misheard it.

It wasn't until I was actually sent back to Sundale City and saw that familiar figure in the airport that my numb heart started throbbing painfully.

Three years ago, Yvette Sanders had made her grand return as the actual daughter of the Sanders family. As for me, the fake daughter who had occupied her place for 20 years, I'd naturally come crashing down from the heights where I'd once been.

Although my family had promised that they would treat me the same as before even though I wasn't their biological daughter, I'd still ended up in Mykorra's war zone three months later.

When I'd accidentally hurt Yvette while setting her bones, they had criticized my medical skills and sent me there to "improve" myself.

From then, I'd become the lowest of the low in the war zone—a test subject for experimental drugs.

I'd been left with countless illnesses from the drug testing, and my skin was marked with numerous needle marks and scars. Even my kneecaps and hand bones had been dislocated and reattached.

And since I'd been one of the few women in the military camp, I'd often been taken advantage of under the guise of drug testing, enduring endless humiliation.

If Connor Sanders had said he was taking me home three years ago, I would have been moved to tears, whining and clinging to him.

But now, it took everything in me to keep myself from running away when I saw him in person.

I sat as far away from him as possible and softly said, "Thanks for picking me up, Mr. Sanders."

Connor frowned. "I'm your brother. It's only been three years, yet you can't even bring yourself to call me "Conny" anymore?"

I was stunned.

I'd been calling him "Conny" for over 20 years. He was my brother who would stay by my side when I was sick and would tirelessly prepare me gifts for my birthdays.

However, he was also the one who'd slapped me repeatedly just to vent out Yvette's anger. He'd also left me to fend for myself in Mykorra's war zone for three years.

It wasn't that I refused to call him "Conny". It was just that the past three years had made me realize that he no longer was the family I could freely seek affection from.

Connor was still looking at me, seemingly waiting for an explanation. But I only lowered my head and replied, "I'm sorry, Mr. Sanders."

His frown deepened. He was about to speak up when he caught sight of the still-healing needle marks on my neck.

He paused for a moment before reaching out toward me. "What's this?"

I instinctively flinched away from Connor's hand. This was something that had never happened before.

His hand missed and fell, and his expression darkened instantly. "I'm just trying to look out for you, Wendy, and this is how you're acting?"

I turned my gaze downward and calmly said, "We're not biological siblings after all, Mr. Sanders. It's not appropriate for us to be this intimate."

Connor was stunned by my words. His anger flared soon after. "Are you blaming us now? You've enjoyed 20 years of comfort in the Sanders residence, living in Yvette's place. We sent you away for you to improve your medical skills for your own good, and now you're holding it against us?

"It seems like you haven't learned your lesson in the past three years. Since you're acting so high and mighty—"

The next moment, the car door opened, and I was kicked out by Connor.

He spat, "You can crawl back from here then, you ungrateful brat!"