Second Life: I Only Live for Myself

"J-Jane isn't in good health, Yvonne. Jane isn't like you. You excel in both art and academics, making it easy for you to get admitted into a good university. Y-You should probably hand over your award-winning painting to…" Mom trailed off, her voice barely a whisper by the end.

She then glanced at Jane Chamberlain, my younger sister, who stood to the side looking so devastated that she could barely stand.

She eventually said what needed to be said. "You should probably hand over your award-winning painting to Jane, Yvonne. She could use the award to get admitted into a university known for its art program."

I was baffled after hearing that request. I had a hard time understanding what Mom was trying to say.

I had died all alone in the dark basement of an asylum. The loneliness of remaining undiscovered until my body rotted still seemed to be etched into my very bones.

It took a good while before I realized that I had been reborn. I had returned to my senior year of high school, back to a time when there was still a chance to change everything.

Dad, who was standing beside Jane, noticed that I had remained silent for too long and asked angrily, "How could you be so petty when you're the older sister, Yvonne? What's the big deal about giving your painting to Jane?

"Do you think she'd even need your worthless painting if it weren't for her poor health? Jane's achievements would definitely be higher than yours! You have to give up the painting whether you like it or not."

My parents had said the same thing to me in my previous life. They demanded I yield the painting to Jane. I was infuriated and resolutely refused to hand it to them. However, through their covert manipulations, the painting was ultimately credited to Jane.

Thus, the national award that guaranteed admission to a university naturally became Jane's.

They didn't even bother to inform me. They let me believe my guaranteed admission was a done deal, making me stay at home for three months and causing me to miss that year's SAT entirely.

I confronted my parents through my tears after everything was over, asking why they had done this to me. Their response couldn't have been more indifferent.

"Oh? Didn't we tell you? We must've been so busy handling Jane's university admission that it slipped our minds."

I felt my heart break when I saw my parents' nonchalant expressions. I knew they hadn't actually forgotten. They were simply afraid that if they told me, I would cause a scene and ruin Jane's chances.

I had no choice but to repeat my senior year, and by the time I finally got admitted into a university, something had happened to Jane again. She didn't have any talent for art to begin with, so she ultimately failed eight consecutive courses at the university and was on the verge of being expelled.

My parents then suggested once again that I give up my own art exhibition—which I had spent half a year painstakingly preparing—to Jane, just so she could graduate without a hitch.

I absolutely refused them back then, so my parents pulled some strings again. Before the art exhibition began, every single one of my paintings had somehow inexplicably been changed to bear Jane's name.

I broke down and yelled, "How can you be so biased? Is Jane your only child? Do you only feel happy after taking everything away from me?"

Dad responded by slapping me hard across the face. "How can you be so selfish, Yvonne? If Jane weren't in such poor health that she couldn't overexert herself with art and schoolwork, she wouldn't even need your things!

"You're truly an ungrateful brat who doesn't know how to share or show any consideration! What's the use of being smart or talented? Your mother and I certainly won't be able to depend on you to take care of us once we grow old."

Just like that, my things were stolen from me yet again.

In my previous life, it wasn't until the moment I died that I finally understood—things that could be stolen from me probably never belonged to me in the first place, just like that award-winning painting, the art exhibition, and Mom and Dad's favoritism.

There were still some things they could never steal from me, though—my inherent talent and ability to learn.

I snapped out of my thoughts and looked up at my parents. I then nodded and said, "I'll let Jane have it, then."

Dad looked surprised. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

Mom stroked my hair and said with a relieved smile, "You've truly become more sensible, Yvonne. I'm so glad you see it this way. Sisters are supposed to watch out for each other, after all."

Afterward, they took Jane by the hand with a sigh of relief and went out for a celebratory dinner. They completely forgot that I was still at home and that I had just sacrificed so much for their beloved daughter.