Chapter 1

All because I took a gift from a girl in my class and didn't give it to my younger sister, Mindy Hamilton.

My parents thought there was something wrong with me.

So they shipped me off to some strict institution. It was a school that specialized in fixing kids with all kinds of "problems."

The first year, I lost a pinky finger and no one cared.

The second year, my stomach ballooned up and then went back down.

By the third year, when I couldn't feel any emotions anymore, my parents finally bothered to pick me up.

*****

My hands were tied to a metal rack. When the light poured in, I flinched instinctively. "I'll be good. I won't run. Please, don't hit me."

Herman Reed yanked me up from the floor, his demonic face twisted in a cruel grin. "You're in luck. Your family finally remembered you.

"You know what to say and what not to say when you get back. You know what happens if you don't."

I nodded numbly, trying to hide my shaking hands behind my back. "I... I know. I'll behave. I won't say anything I'm not supposed to."

My vocal cords were wrecked. After they forced that cleaning fluid down my throat, even talking burned.

I got dragged off to wash up, no choice in the matter.

The iron gate I'd been dreaming about finally opened, and the sunlight outside was almost blinding after so long in the dark.

My parents were standing by the car, and my older brother Antony Hamilton and Kara were there too.

When I saw her face, almost a mirror of mine, all those times I'd been shoved in front of a mirror, forced to stare at my own disgusting reflection, suddenly made me feel nauseous.

I turned my face away, instinctively gripping my wrists to steady myself. I stepped forward, head down, and mumbled, "Mom, Dad, Antony."

Dad looked annoyed. "Mindy came all the way here just to pick you up. Kara, look at her."

Mindy pouted, her lips trembling. "I knew you never liked me. I already let you be the older sister. What more do you want from me?"

We were twins, born on the same day, but just because I was the 'older twin', I always had to give in to her.

Antony's voice was stern. "Three years, Kara. Still haven't learned to behave?"

I froze up, almost out of habit. "I'm here. I'll behave. I've learned to be good."

The school watched me like a hawk in that place.

The first year, I just didn't tie my shoelaces on time, and they cut off my pinky finger.

The second year, after endless torment, I was forced to take pills. They made me vomit with toilet cleaner, and that was why my voice was ruined.

The third year, I secretly grabbed a thick, blunt piece of metal and slashed my wrists, blood pooling on the floor.

All that got me was my hands tied behind my back, thrown into pitch-black confinement, and beaten mercilessly.

I was stuck in hell, never able to escape.

Dad looked pretty satisfied with how I turned out. "Alright, seems like those three years of 'reform' paid off.

"From now on, you're not allowed to mess with Mindy."

I didn't bother to explain, "I'll be good. I'll obey."

Those were the two sentences I said the most in that place.

Mom gazed at me, her eyes brimming with what looked like affection. "Herman said your 'reform' was a big success these three years. We even booked a hotel to celebrate your return. Come on, let's go."

I hid my left hand inside my sleeve and followed them into the car.

When we sat down to eat, the table was piled with all kinds of delicious dishes I hadn't seen in forever.

Back at the institute, they never let us use forks like normal people. Most of the time, we had to fight for food with our hands and mouths.

Once all the dishes were served, Mom asked, "Kara, it's your birthday today. What do you want?"

Wait, was today my birthday?

I nervously twisted my fingers together. "Dad, are you... are you going to send me back?"

Dad spoke with the authority of the head of the family. "Herman said you've changed for the better these past three years. Mindy has always been frail. As long as you behave and let her have her way, I won't send you back for now."

The instructors from the institute would come by regularly to check up on us.

If anyone complained about me, they'd say I hadn't been properly reformed.

And then they'd drag me right back to that place.

I'd seen it with my own eyes. Anyone dragged back there got treated worse than animals.

I struggled to pull the corners of my mouth up, trying to make it look like a decent smile. "Thanks, Dad."

Dad sounded so proud. "We made a point to pick you up on your birthday. After these three years, I hope you get just how hard your mom and I worked for your sake."