The day my sister came home from studying South African culture abroad, she pulled out something titled Observation Chart for the South African Female Coming-of-Age Ritual Experiment, and announced that to finish her thesis, she'd rounded up a few delinquent girls to perform circumcision experiments on.
I was the first to slam the table. "Are you insane? This is illegal!"
But my sister only smiled.
"Sis, they volunteered. I pay them, they cooperate. Who's getting hurt?"
Our parents chimed in from the side:
"What would a middle-school dropout know about theses? A few ignorant little tramps get to be your sister's test subjects. They should count themselves lucky."
That very night I reported it to her school. The experiment was shut down, my sister was disciplined and her graduation delayed.
My parents screamed that I'd destroyed the most promising person in the family, and threw me out of the house.
On my way home from work to my rented room, a few blonde-dyed girls cornered me in an alley.
"So you're the one who cut off our paycheck?"
I tried to run, but they pinned me down.
My sister stepped out of the shadows, the scalpel in her hand giving off a cold, ghostly gleam.
"Sis, since you love sticking your nose into other people's business so much, I'll give you a chance to contribute to academic research."
That night my sister forced the cutting on me, and I died in my rented room from the infected wound.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my sister came home and announced she wanted to do the circumcision experiment.
……
I stared at the Observation Chart for the South African Female Coming-of-Age Ritual Experiment that Janice Simmons pulled from her bag, and I couldn't stop shaking all over.
The phantom pain of my lower body being cut apart in my last life still lingered in my mind, and the bitterness and despair I'd felt before dying — I never wanted to live through that again.
Right now Janice stood in front of me, smugly waving that file in her hand.
"Mom, Dad, if I can pull this thesis off, not only will my advisor see me in a whole new light, they might even recommend me for a faculty position!"
Her eyes shone as she looked toward our parents on the couch.
"No one has ever done a live-subject experiment like this. If I can get the first-hand observational data, I'll be the first person in history to do it!"
Our mother clapped at once. "Oh my, my girl is just brilliant!"
Our father set down his teacup too, his face wreathed in smiles.
"Janice was always going places, from the time she was little. Not like your sister, a middle-school dropout, only good enough to slave away for some tiny company."
I ignored their jabs. I just slowly steadied myself, picked up the glass of water on the table, and took a sip.
In my last life, when I heard those words, I flatly told Janice this was illegal, then reported her crime to her school and stopped something far more vile and horrifying from happening.
But because I'd ruined Janice's thesis and cost her the chance to stay abroad, our parents threw me out.
And in the end I was cornered in an alley by those three delinquent girls, and Janice used me for her experiment.
For the sake of these ignorant, foolish people, I paid with my own life.
This life —
"Sis, you're not going to object, are you?"
Janice finally turned to look at me, a smile at the corner of her mouth, her eyes full of naked provocation.
I set down the glass and forced out a smile.
"If Mom and Dad already agree, what right does a middle-school dropout like me have to say anything?"
Janice froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be so agreeable, a sneer crossing her face.
"At least you know your place. A middle schooler — what would you understand about academic papers?"
"All right, that's enough." Our mother waved a hand, shooing me off like a fly.
"Loretta Simmons, don't run your mouth and upset Janice."
Our father joined in. "Your sister is bringing honor to this family. Cut out the snide remarks."
I lowered my head and let out a small "Mm," my nails digging into my palm.
It had been this way my whole life. They would always take my sister's side.
If they hadn't wanted to send her to that international prep school with a thirty-thousand-a-year tuition, I never would have dropped out after middle school. Back then my grades had been good enough to get into the top state high school.
Seeing how "sensible" I was being, Janice grew even more brazen.
She flipped through the observation chart, then suddenly let out a sigh.
"Mom, my experiment needs a sterile operating room, and the conditions here at home…"
Our mother panicked instantly. "What do we do? Should we ask the hospital if we can rent one?"
"That's so expensive." Janice's eyes rolled, and her gaze landed on me.
"Sis, that master bedroom of yours has good light and it's spacious. Why don't you clear it out and let me use it for a few days?"
"Sure." Without the slightest hesitation, I stood up at once. "I'll go pack it up right now."
Janice was stunned by how readily I agreed.
But our mother nodded in satisfaction. "Now that's more like it. Your sister's got something important to do, and as the older one, you should pitch in."
Our father had already walked in hauling a few woven plastic sacks, and without a word he started stuffing my clothes and odds and ends inside.
My middle-school graduation photo was thrown to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere.
Our father didn't even glance at it. He stepped right over it, urging, "Hurry up, hurry up, don't hold up Janice's preparations."
I bent down and picked up the trampled photo, brushed the footprint off it, and slipped it into my pocket.
And while no one was watching, I quietly pressed a tiny voice recorder against the inside of the bed frame.
