Karma's Revenge

Nine years ago, my three-year-old sister died in an accident at home.

In public, my parents wailed and lamented, as if they wished to follow her into the grave.

But behind closed doors, they’d only twist my thigh viciously, screaming, “You worthless piece of trash! Why didn’t you die with that little bitch?!”

And my younger brother, who seemed to have a monstrous streak born into him, would nonchalantly rip apart the only floral dress my sister had owned, muttering, “Who told you not to give it to me?”

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