Chapter 1

My four-year-old brother, Justin Grant, poured rat poison into the mashed potatoes.

When I saw it, I threw it away.

When Grandma came back and found out, she slapped me hard across the face and called me a worthless brat for wasting food.

When Mom and Dad got home and realized there was nothing to eat, they started beating me up until I was left disabled.

That made life even more unbearable for me in a family where Justin mattered more than me.

When I was fourteen, because Justin wanted a computer for gaming, I was forced to marry an abusive old loner in the next village for money.

And that was how I lost my whole life to misery.

When I opened my eyes again, I couldn't believe it that I was back on that day Justin poured rat poison into the mashed potatoes.

This time, I didn't take it upon myself to fix Justin's mistake.

Grandma, who'd been thrifty her whole life, just said, "Just scrape the surface and eat it. We can't waste all that."

Right there in front of me, Grandma was doing what she said.

I was still in a daze.

It took a while before it finally hit me that I'd traveled back to when I wasn't blind or deaf, and my legs worked just fine.

My hands could move, my legs could jump, and my mind was sharp. I was totally fine.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of potatoes cooking in the iron pot.

After a long day working in the fields, Mom and Dad came home, carrying their hoes.

"Alexis, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and get us some water. We're dying of thirst," Dad called out.

Without thinking, I hurried to pour them some water.

If I were even a second too slow, Dad was gonna snap and smack me around.

After Mom and Dad finished their water and set down their hoes, Grandma hollered for me to dish out the mashed potatoes and bring the dishes.

Not wasting a second, I hustled around the stove, getting everything set.

The whole family gathered around the table and started to dig in.

There was a plate of veggies, some pickled greens, and some meatballs.

Grandma kept piling meatballs into Justin's bowl, telling him to eat up so he'd grow tall.

She shoveled most of the meat scraps into Dad's bowl and gave Mom just a little.

I quietly chewed on a couple of bites of pickles, not even daring to reach for the veggies. They were off-limits for me.

"Fill up my plate again," Dad said, handing me his empty plate.

I took the plate without a single complaint and went to the kitchen.

Seeing that Dad's plate was already piled high with mashed potatoes, I hesitated.

After a moment's thought, I made up my mind.

I packed more mashed potatoes from the pot into Dad's plate.

As I was leaving the kitchen, I caught sight of the chili sauce jar.

Dad loved spicy food and always mixed some chili sauce into his potatoes.

Without a second thought, I grabbed the chili sauce jar and placed it in Dad's right hand.

"Why are you being so good today?" Dad scooped a spoonful of chili sauce into his plate and gave me a crooked smile.

I just stayed silent.

Grandma said, "I just smacked her. Justin poured rat poison into the mashed potatoes. This brat started yelling that it was poisonous and wanted to toss out the whole thing."

Mom and Dad paused mid-bite, their hands frozen in the air.

Dad looked at Grandma, uncertain. "Wait, so these potatoes are...?"

Grandma waved her hand, not bothered at all. "It's fine, I scraped the surface carefully. There's not a single bit of rat poison left. Don't worry, just eat up."

Then she muttered to herself, "It's just a little rat poison. It's not like it'll kill human beings. Throwing out all those potatoes would be such a waste."

Dad nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's a lot of potatoes for one meal. I don't want to waste a meal."

Mom curled her lip and glared at me. "No wonder you're acting so obedient and doing whatever you're told, huh? I keep calling you a good-for-nothing, but you never admit it. Guess you only know how to behave after your grandma beats it into you."

I kept my head down, biting my lip.

Seeing how pathetic I looked, Mom and Dad couldn't even be bothered to look my way.

Instead, they ruffled Justin's hair and gave him a gentle warning, "Justin, don't ever mess around with rat poison again, and definitely don't go pouring it into the food. If you end up poisoning us, your sister's bad temper might just eat you alive."

In my previous life, before everything went downhill, I refused to accept how Mom and Dad always put Justin first.

So, I was always going against Mom, Dad, and Grandma.

Home was a battlefield, and Justin and I were constantly fighting like it was life or death.

They always said, since I was the oldest, I had to give in to Justin. They called me born spiteful, like I just couldn't stand to see my brother do well.

Back then, I didn't even know what it meant, and I had no clue that when Mom and Dad called me a worthless brat, they meant it. They truly looked down on me.

But now, I'd got it. I really did.

No matter what I did, they would never give me any credit.

So why should I care anymore?

If they wanted to eat poisoned food, let them.

If they didn't care about dying, whatever.

I was not stopping anyone.