Sister Feet Story

My mother, Winona Barlowe, who was the medical director at the hospital, decided to let my intern sister, Mia Barlowe, practice her skills by performing a brain tumor surgery on me. I begged my mother to assign another doctor since it was my only chance at survival. She slapped me across the face and cried out, "How did I ever give birth to a selfish girl like you? Mia just started her internship. Can’t you give her the chance to practice?" When I died from the botched surgery, she turned gray overnight.

My sister, Bella, had a baby in a back-alley shithole. Then she disappeared. A midwife tracked me down using an address Bella left behind. She shoved the newborn at me like a sack of garbage. My parents fell to their knees. Crying. Begging me to take her bastard. Just like that, my future as a promising artist was gone. The neighbors, the priest, my landlord… they all called me a whore. A sinner who had disgraced God. They ran me out of the neighborhood . My life was over. Eighteen years later, Bella waltzed back into my life. A cheap thug with a fake Rolex dangled from her arm. She held my son, crocodile tears streaming down her face. She called me jealous. Accused me of stealing her flesh and blood. Of keeping a mother from her child. And my son? The one I bled myself dry for? The son I poured every last cent into, turning him into a brilliant painter? The son I starved for, so much that I ended up in a hospital bed? The moment he saw his "real" mother, he cast me aside without a second thought. "You pathetic, broke bitch!" he spat. "You stole everything from us! All the happiness that was supposed to be ours!" My parents threw me out like a dog. Bella's thug husband had his men corner me in the red-light district. They pinned me against a wall, their threats vile and clear: Never come back. I had no way out. I threw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back. Eighteen years in the past. Then came the knock. Hell had found my door. I wasn’t going to be the fool who gave everything and got nothing. This time, I took control.

I'm Kelly. Everyone calls me Speed. I'm all about control. I'm in control on the racetrack. I'm in control of my car. I'm in control of how I fought to raise my deaf little brother. I live for being in control. Except in my personal life, I have no control and I don't know how to handle it. I don't know where I fit. Should I go with what I have been taught all my life as normal or should I give in to myself and let my true desires come out. I'm Brick. When I first met Speed I could see instantly she needed someone to take control. She needed the Dom in me to help her safely explore her needs and desires. She needed to submit to me and to her true self. She needed me to guide her as she explores who she is and what she wants. She needs a safe place only I can give her to step past what was drilled into her as right and follow her heart. I'm Gretchen. I'm a bunny for the Reckless Renegades. I service the members, most of the time means having sex with them. I was ok with that. Well, I was ok with it until I met Speed. I was drawn to her instantly. I wanted to get to know her but more than that I wanted to be with her. Before I can even make a move she finds out I'm a bunny and won't speak to me anymore. Being a bunny was fine for me but now I want more. I want to help Brick to get Speed to open up. I want to be with her in every way even if that means sharing her with him and giving up my bunny was.

My younger sister had sworn off marriage and children, but as we grew older, she envied me for having both a husband and son. Not only did she demand that I share my husband with her, but she even wanted my son to care for her in her old age. I scolded her for being delusional and shameless. But she held a grudge, and in front of my son, she claimed that I had cut off his chance at inheriting a fortune. He believed her. With one strike, he killed me and then declared to the world that my sister was his real mother. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day my sister refused to go on a blind date. This time, she happily agreed to it and even boasted to me that she planned to have many kids. "Liz Stanton, this time, I'll be the one with a husband and kids." But I had no intention of reliving the misery of marriage either.

My sister pushes her daughter at a murderer so she can win the prize in a photography competition. After this, she even uses the incident and my name to extort the victim to pay an astronomical sum as compensation. The victim stabs me to death in a fit of rage. When my son, who is brought up by me, learns the truth, he doesn't seek justice for me. Instead, he scatters my ashes in the sea and says, "My mother told me that I would've been the happiest child in the world if not for you taking the wrong child home back then." When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to when my daughter was five years old. I have a month until her death. This time, I'm going to protect my child to the best of my abilities. I won't bother about an ingrate anymore.

My sister-in-law and I have always been close, and we happened to be pregnant at the same time. However, during a routine check-up, she was diagnosed with uterine fibroids. I urged her to have surgery as soon as possible, but she refused and instead claimed her sallow complexion was a sign she was carrying a "child of fortune." She then retreated to the countryside to rest and nurture her pregnancy. Nine months later, while I grieved the loss of my stillborn child, she came back from the countryside with a baby girl in her arms. Consumed by the suspicion that the child was rightfully mine, I demanded a DNA test. That same night, my own mother and brother conspired to take my life. After my death, I discovered it was all a conspiracy. My family had orchestrated everything to swap my child for hers. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the moment before I took her for that fateful check-up.

When I was reborn, returning back to the day of filling out the mate registration form, I decided to write my sister Sophia Harrington's name on the form. I would help her achieve her dreams with Adrian Northgate in this lifetime. Without waiting for Adrian to ask, I gave the wedding dress to my sister ahead of time and placed the ring that symbolized our mate bond into her hands. I did not argue or make a fuss. Instead, I facilitated every opportunity for them to spend time together. When he took my sister to fight in the southern territories, I quietly packed everything up and went to university in the northern grasslands. This was because, in my previous life, I devoted myself to caring for our family. Yet, after Adrian was promoted to the pack's first warrior, he and our son knelt before me, begging me to dissolve our mate bond so that he could fulfill his love for Sophia. Living this life again, I decided not to become mates with Adrian. I wanted to pursue my dreams — to study at the Northern Grassland Werewolf University, become a medical doctor, and live the free life I had always desired!

When my boyfriend came to my family home to ask for my hand in marriage, my sister-in-law, who was usually cold and aloof, became a completely different person. She flung her arm around me warmly and asked, “Cassie, who’s your favorite? This boyfriend or one of the dozen or so men that you’ve brought home before?” As I denied her accusation and interrupted her, she cheekily batted her eyelashes at my boyfriend and cooed, “Oh, yes, yes. Cassie has never brought another man home. You’re the lucky first!” In the midst of dinner, she deliberately took her own soiled underwear out of the bathroom, pinched her nose, and waved it around as she screeched, “Oh my goodness, Cassie! I know you don’t really care about hygiene, but we have guests today! How can you have no shame? It smells so bad!”

To give my girlfriend a surprise on our anniversary, I forced myself to finish five days' worth of business in just three. I rushed back overnight. However, the moment I reached my front door, I stopped. Laughter and lively chatter spilled out from inside. Only a minute earlier, Sheila Jones had texted me, saying she was home alone and missed me badly. Then I heard someone call out from the room: "Sheila, your turn! Truth or dare, and make it a good one!" "Oh, you're all so nosy," she laughed. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you can't tell Erick." "Come on, say it already! Like we'd ever tell." "My first time," she said, "was with Yoel." The room erupted in knowing laughter and teasing cheers. I stood frozen. Yoel Lewis? Was not he supposed to be Sheila's closest guy friend? Before I could even wrap my head around it, Yoel chuckled and added lightly, "First time? That's not all. We even had a kid together." I pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiling as I looked at the two of them. "Really?" I said calmly. "Then where's the child?"

I stand in the hospital after my two older brothers decline all 99 of my phone calls. They finally appear, bringing with them the biological sister they found. My gentle eldest brother, who had once rescued me from my so-called abusive parents, raises his hand and slaps me across the face. "Cynthia, you're actually pretending to have a terminal illness just to compete with Sarah for our affection? And you came to this kind of place to frighten us?" I clutch my swollen cheek and listen as my second brother, who always says he'll trust me no matter what, holds Sarah in his arms and laughs out loud. "Are you trying to fake being sick to get our attention after seeing that Sarah is in poor health? "Just cut the act. You've been living in luxury since childhood and have always been in perfect health. How could you possibly be ill?" Sarah Crawford speaks up thoughtfully, "Don't blame her, you two. I think she just feels like I've stolen away your love for her, which is why she has become so unreasonable..." I look at the two brothers who have doted on me for ten years and suddenly feel that nothing matters anymore. After all, I only have seven days left to live. In seven days, everything will return to normal after my departure. But by then, they'll be the ones unable to accept it.