Chapter 2

The moment we got home, Mom shoved me into my bedroom and ordered me to face the wall.

She glared at me, her voice trembling with frustration:

"Chloe, tell me the truth. When are you going to stop this?"

"Are you really not going to be happy until you completely tear this family apart?!"

I shook my head and answered earnestly, "No, Mom."

"Then why do you keep doing these bizarre things? Why are you always targeting Mia?!"

I held up my palm. A bright red welt from Mom's fingernails was burning like fire.

"I'm not targeting her," I whispered.

"I'm just doing what Mia tells me to do."

"When Mia is happy, you and Dad are happy, and the house is peaceful."

"Mom... did I do something wrong?"

Mom's expression froze. Her face shifted through a dozen conflicting emotions.

Finally, she stepped forward and pulled me into an embrace, her voice tight and coaxing:

"You're my daughter, Chloe. You don't need to suck up to anyone!"

Her hug was cold and unfamiliar.

It reminded me of my sixth life.

Mia had deliberately smashed Dad's prized antique porcelain vase and tearfully blamed me.

Mom had looked at me then like I was her worst enemy.

She grabbed a heavy wooden hanger and whipped me mercilessly, screaming that I was "a born curse upon this family."

Back then, I cried and begged, pleading my innocence, but every word only brought down a harder strike.

Until I was curled up on the floor, bleeding and unable to make a sound.

Now, all I want is to make everyone happy.

Yet Mom says I don't need to please anyone.

The next morning, Dad announced a decision at breakfast.

"I've contacted a family therapist. Starting tomorrow, someone is going to give Chloe proper behavioral therapy."

A flicker of smug delight danced in Mia's eyes, though she quickly put on a worried face.

"Dad... is Chloe really sick? Is it serious?"

Dad sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion.

"We just want her to get better."

When the therapist arrived, I showed an obedience she had clearly never seen before.

She was a gentle, middle-aged woman named Dr. Evans. She sat me down on a plush sofa and handed me a warm cup of tea.

"Chloe, honey... why do you feel like you have to obey everyone without question?"

I cradled the warm cup and murmured:

"Because bad girls get locked in the dark room."

Dr. Evans's pen paused.

She adjusted her tone, trying a softer approach. "Have you ever thought that blind obedience might hurt you? People who truly love you would never want you to live like this."

I tilted my head, my eyes wide with genuine confusion.

"Love me?"

"You mean like Dad? Who says he loves me, but starves me for three days just because I accidentally spilled juice on Mia's white dress?"

"Or like Mom? Who calls me her precious baby, but pours scalding hot soup over my hands just because I didn't hand Mia a napkin fast enough?"

"Or... like Mia?"

"Who calls me her sweet sister to my face, but shoves my head under bathwater, giggling while I choke and thrash?"

I looked at her, my expression disturbingly innocent.

"Dr. Evans, they don't love me. They're just teaching me the rules."

"They think I'm bad, so they punish me."

"I'm good now. Whatever they say, I do."

"If Mia tells me to drop dead, I'll go die right away."

"That will finally make them happy, won't it?"

Dr. Evans's hands began to tremble visibly.

The conversation had shattered whatever standard assumptions she walked in with.

She wrote down every single word I said, then stepped outside to talk to my parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis, your daughter doesn't have an innate psychotic disorder."

"She has suffered severe cognitive distortion. She has learned to equate self-harm and total submission as her only means of survival and seeking affection."

Dad listened, lit a cigarette with shaking hands, and frowned deeply.

"Transfer her to Mia's high school," he muttered after a long silence. "Being around kids her own age might bring her back to reality."

Mom agreed immediately.

Only Mia, from an angle our parents couldn't see, shot me a venomous, triumphant smirk.

She probably thought a brand-new game was about to begin.