Chapter 2
It was strange.
Everyone was acting strange.
After Monica died saving me, everyone pointed fingers at me.
My home, the place I'd lived for more than ten years, fell apart.
Dad turned haggard overnight. He looked at me and said, "You shouldn't even be alive."
Mom started hitting and kicking me, her voice breaking as she screamed, "You're a curse! You killed Monica. Give me back my Monica."
They stopped letting me go to school.
Day after day, they locked me up in a dark room.
But why didn't they go after the murderer? Why was it all on me?
Wasn't I the victim?
Was it really wrong just to be the one who survived?
I didn't know.
Honestly, all I knew was everyone kept telling me I owed Monica a life. I always would.
*****
I'd spent ages trapped in that dark, gloomy room.
It lasted all the way until my eighteenth birthday.
Leopold finally convinced my parents to let me out.
After ages without sunlight, my legs buckled when I stepped outside.
I could barely stand.
Leopold didn't say a word. He just picked me up and carried me on his back.
Step by step, he carried me all the way to Harbor University.
It was the college I'd always dreamed of.
Monica had wanted to go there, too.
The azaleas were just starting to bloom.
Leopold's voice was barely more than a whisper. He said, "Sharon, do you know? This was Monica's dream, too. But she'll never get to live it."
I didn't say a word.
I buried my face in his back, crying in silence.
That day was my eighteenth birthday.
It was also the last bit of warmth Leopold had ever shown me.
After that, I was expelled from school.
I was locked up in the attic.
My parents moved abroad and left me behind completely.
With nothing holding him back, Leopold finally showed his true self.
At first, I kept begging him.
I said, "Please, Leopold, just let me go."
But the attic was so dark and suffocating.
Not a single ray of sunlight ever made it in.
Trapped there, I lost all track of time.
I had no idea what season it was.
Slowly, I began to lose my mind.
On another anniversary of Monica's death, Leopold forced me to apologize. That was when everything blew up between us.
We ended up in a screaming match, our voices echoing through the attic.
I yelled, "I'm not apologizing.
"I hate her. I hate all of you!
"I never asked her to save me.
"Just kill me, Leopold. Just do it!"
Maybe I was already losing my mind. Leopold kicked me hard in the knee.
He couldn't stand it when I talked back.
As punishment, he dislocated my wrists.
Then he tied me to the headboard in the most humiliating way possible.
Leopold said, his voice cruel and merciless, "Don't blame me, Sharon. This is what you owe Monica. This is what you deserve.
"You don't get to feel sorry for yourself. At least you're still breathing."
Heh. So, just being alive was my crime.
Well, I decided to end it.
The night I turned 22, I finally broke.
Blood soaked through the sheets.
I slit my wrists.
Guess I finally did what they wanted. I paid Monica back with my own life.
*****
Leopold's shapely brows furrowed.
He waved his hand in front of my face.
He called out, "Sharon?"
Snapping back to myself, I saw his eyes were clear and bright.
Not a trace of the bitterness and hate he once held.
Instinctively, I jumped up and stepped back from him.
I mumbled, "Uh... I've got something to do, so I'll skip the basketball game.
"You guys go ahead."
I was genuinely afraid of Leopold now.
No, I was actually terrified.
Just being near him made me tremble.
He blinked, a little taken aback.
He was clearly not used to me saying no.
After all, I was always the one trying so hard to please him.
He hesitated for a while.
Then he asked, "Sharon, are you mad at me? Is it because I brought Monica a gift the other day, but didn't get you anything?"
Mad?
I let out a bitter laugh.
What right did I have to be mad?
In my previous life, Leopold had never once said he liked me. He had never said he liked Monica, either.
But he was always glued to her side.
And I was just too blind to see what was right in front of me.
Still, I actually thought I had a shot.
I went up against Monica for him.
No wonder I ended up dying such a pathetic death.
Just then, the bell rang for class.
Next was gym, if I remembered right.
The basketball game between Class One and Two was about to start.
Monica was from the class next door, already standing by the doorway.
Leopold didn't say another word, just gave me one last look.
Then he turned and jogged over to Monica, who was waiting at the door.
I watched their backs as they left together, shoulder to shoulder.
I let out a deep breath, finally feeling a bit of relief.
But before I could even soak up the sunlight and enjoy my new life, it was cut short.
Right before school ended, Mom called, telling me to get to the hospital.
Monica had gotten sick again.
She needed a blood transfusion.
Just like in my previous life, as long as she needed blood, I was always the one they called.
I was still always on standby for her blood transfusions.
At the beginning, my parents told me Monica had some rare disease.
She needed regular blood transfusions.
And my blood type just happened to be a perfect match.
The funny thing is, I actually felt grateful for that.
At least I had something to offer.
I could always save Monica.
I'd known for ages my parents loved her way more than me.
She was their real daughter, after all.
And honestly, I couldn't blame them for it.
I kept thinking if I could just be a little nicer to Monica, maybe even extra kind, maybe my parents would finally be happy.
And if they were happy, maybe they'd love me again.
But Monica always wanted more.
She was always crying, always needing my blood.
It happened so often that I just couldn't handle it anymore.
Whenever Leopold was around, it got worse.
Just like now.
I rushed to the hospital in a cab.
Just before I was wheeled into the hospital room, Leopold shoved a gift box into my hands.