Chapter 1

After getting a second chance at life, the first thing I did was pick up the phone and call the State Security Agency.

I said, "Hello? I'd like to report something. There might be a traveler from another world in my house."

The line went quiet for a long time. Then a calm, professional voice asked, "What are his characteristics?"

I took a deep breath, remembering the agony I endured before I died in my previous life, and said slowly, "He lets me hear his thoughts."

*****

A cold touch pressed against my wrist, mixed with the sharp scent of disinfectant.

My eyes flew open.

Gone was the bleak white ceiling of the mental hospital. Instead, I was staring up at the familiar crystal chandelier in my own home.

I was alive?

I remembered the nurse shoved those meds down my throat, and I died right there in that hospital bed from heart failure.

"Anna, what are you daydreaming about? Look, this is Chris Grant, the one I told you about," my mom, Mary Sullivan, said softly.

Her gentle voice brought me back to reality, and I turned my head stiffly.

Standing in the living room was a boy, probably eighteen or nineteen. He wore a faded old T-shirt, was thin, and kept his head bowed, his bangs covering most of his face. He looked withdrawn and didn't really fit in.

There he was. Chris Grant. The demon who destroyed everything in my life.

Chris was the adopted son my mom and dad brought home from some remote town. He could make me hear his thoughts.

In my previous life, the moment he walked into our home, my nightmare started.

Sometimes, his thoughts would pop up in my mind, clear as day.

When Mom grabbed my hand and told him my name, I heard him scoff in his head, [So this is my so-called sister? Looks like a spoiled idiot. You'll be crying before long.]

When Dad handed him a limitless black card, I caught his inner voice sneering, [The old geezer sure is generous. Once I take over the Sullivan family, the first thing I'll do is kick all of you out.]

Those poisonous thoughts gnawed at me like maggots, tormenting me day and night.

I told my parents that Chris was a demon with sinister motives, but they chalked it up to jealousy and thought I was hallucinating.

They brought in the best psychiatrist, who concluded I was under too much stress and suffering from paranoid delusions.

They didn't believe a word I said.

No matter how much I tried to explain, they always thought I was being unreasonable and bullying the "poor little brother."

In the end, after Chris manipulated me with his twisted thoughts again, I ended up pushing him down the stairs.

He walked away with a few scratches, but everyone thought I'd lost my mind.

Dad signed the papers himself and had me committed to a mental hospital.

That was where I spent the darkest five years of my life, until I died there.

Hatred flooded my chest, so fierce it felt like it might burn me alive. My nails dug deep into my palms, and the sharp pain jolted me awake.

I was back on the exact day Chris was adopted into our family.

"Anna? Why aren't you saying anything?" my dad, Richard Sullivan, frowned, his tone tinged with annoyance. "Chris is your brother now. You need to look after him."

I needed to look after him? So he could drag me back to hell all over again?

I stared at Chris, my gaze burning into him. He seemed to sense my stare and slowly looked up.

He had a strikingly handsome face, but right now, it was pale and a bit awkward.

He gave me a timid, almost nervous smile.

Almost at the same time, that familiar, venomous voice exploded in my mind: [This face really gets on my nerves. I'd love to ruin it. But I'll take my time. I'll make you suffer a despair worse than death.]

It was the same voice that I had heard in my previous life.

I felt ice-cold all over, my blood practically frozen in my veins.

Memories from my previous life surged up like a tidal wave. The hellish torment in the mental hospital. My parents' indifference. Chris's false kindness.

I would never go through that again.

Watching my parents dote on Chris, acting all caring and affectionate, I realized telling them the truth was pointless. They'd just think I was losing it again.

In that case, I could only change my strategy.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the storm of hatred inside me. I stood up from the couch and gave Chris a gentle smile that I'd never shown him before.

"So you're my brother now, huh? Welcome home," I said.

My parents were stunned, clearly not expecting me to react like this.

Chris was a little taken aback too, but then his voice echoed in my mind again: [Fake as ever. Changed your tune already? Trying to win me over? Too late.]

The smile on my lips grew even wider.

I picked up my phone from the table and said, "Dad, Mom, I just remembered something I need to do. I'll be in my room for a bit."

With that, I hurried upstairs without a backward glance and locked the door tight behind me.