Stabbed by My Sister, Denied by My Mom

When I opened my eyes again, there were no hellish scenes from books.

Instead, I found my mom hovering over the hospital bed, caring for my sister, Ashley Pedersen, who'd just woken up. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Any better?"

For the first time, her usually stone-cold face showed real emotion. The tenderness in her eyes was something I'd chased my whole life but never caught.

Ashley shifted weakly into Linda Pedersen's arms, coughing a little. "Much better. Where is Evelyn? Is she alright? She has never liked me, but I don't understand why she attacked me. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry."

She hung her head, her long lashes fluttering as tears started to fall.

The moment my name came up, Linda's expression soured. "It's not your fault. That selfish liar just spins tales for drama. Robbery? Ha! Bet it was all a stunt she pulled."

Her eyes brimmed with undisguised disgust. Even in death, the sting hit like a fresh wound, nearly buckling my spectral form.

It was tragic that she had zero faith in me.

Catching her scornful tone, Ashley hid a sly grin and kept up the gracious act. "Evelyn is right. I'm just an extra in this family, always causing problems. But I'd do anything to earn her forgiveness."

As she played the understanding card, Linda recalled my desperate appeals in the alley.

Her frustration boiled over, and she slammed her cup down. "You're too kind. That's how she exploits you. After what she did, you're still defending her? I'm lucky to have a gem like you."

I froze, staring at my bloodstained clothes. The irony hit me like a bitter wave. In Linda's eyes, I had always been this irredeemable failure.

I thought back to my final moments in that dim alley where Ashley had plunged the knife into my gut, her ferocity shocking.

Linda had finally arrived with backup, but before I could even cry for help, she had bypassed me and raced to inspect Ashley.

Looking back at me, she had snapped, "Enough of this nonsense! You know Ashley is timid. Why torment her?"

Timid? She had the guts for murder.

But at that point, I had no strength left to argue. My life was slipping away, and panic set in.

I had extended a trembling hand, begging, "Mom, save me. Name your terms. I'll meet them. I'm really dying."

Wounds riddled my body; every movement was agony.

Yet Linda had just sneered and kicked me. "Dying? Please! You're just jealous because Ashley's sweeter and more likable. You think I can't see through your games? Get up and apologize right now!"