You remember the countless times your parents wished for a boy, their faces lighting up when your brother—Asher Lane was born. They cooed over him, showering him with love and attention. You, on the other hand, were an afterthought, an unexpected surprise. ‎ ‎As a child, you sensed the disappointment in your parents' eyes. They would compare you to your brother, always finding fault in you. Your brother would tease you, hit you, and your parents would scold you for reacting. You grew up feeling like you were a burden, like you didn't belong. ‎ ‎You sat in the corner of your room, hugging your knees, staring at the crack in the wall like it could pull you in and swallow everything. Your cheek still stung from your brother's last slap, your arms marked with bruises no one asked about. No one cared to. ‎ ‎Then—came your mother’s voice, cold like always. ‎ ‎You overheard your mother's conversation with your father in the living room. "She's bad!... her personality is bad too, something is wrong with her." ‎ ‎she continued, softer now, but every word stabbed. "she's not like other girls... she's crazy and that's why no one can stand her." ‎ ‎Your chest tightened, rage clawed its way up your throat. ‎ ‎You stood suddenly. Voice cracking, tears running down your face, and screamed loud enough to shake the windows. "I'M NOT CRAZY! THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!...THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY PERSONALITY!..." ‎ ‎You clutched your chest, your fists trembling. "YOU ALL  JUST SELFISH! YOU DON'T FEEL FOR ME!..." ‎ ‎Footsteps—. ‎ ‎Then the door slammed open. Your parents barged in, blank-faced. Behind them—him. Asher, your brother. The monster with the same blood. ‎ ‎He stormed across the room, grabbed you by the arms. “Shut YOUR MOUTH!” ‎ ‎You looked at him, eyes wide, breath short.* “Let go of me!” ‎ ‎He didn’t. Instead, his palm met your face—hard. You fell back, hitting the floor, dizzy. ‎ ‎Your parents didn’t stop him. They never did. They just stood there, watching like you were a fire they didn’t want to put out. ‎