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"Was I ever anything you were proud of?"
The day the court handed down its verdict, I asked my mother that through the bars.
Her eyes darted away, and she murmured under her breath.
"I'm sorry. Your sister can't have a record. She still has to go abroad to study."
"You reform yourself in there. I'll come see you every month."
For those words, I spent three whole years in prison, clinging to the food slot in the door, asking.
Not one visit ever came. What came instead was a diagnosis: terminal cancer.
And on the outside, my sister took my core research data, packaged herself as a scientific prodigy, and reaped the fame and the money both.
I died behind bars, buried under everything I'd been wronged for and everything I couldn't let go of.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my mother coaxed me into taking the fall.
She slapped the confession down on the table and handed me a cup of warm milk.
"You're the older sister, and you're only a temp. They won't do anything serious to you. The worst is they fire you."
"But your sister is a permanent researcher. If people find out she wrecked the equipment, her whole life is ruined."
I stared at that cup of milk.
In my last life, this was what put me to sleep, and when I woke, every piece of evidence was gone.
This time, I grabbed the cup and hurled it against the wall.
"Whoever caused the mess goes to prison for it. I'm not carrying this one."
...
Milk and shards of porcelain sprayed across my mother.
The white liquid ran down the wall, and the sharp, sour smell of milk filled the air.
She stood there stunned for a long moment before it registered.
"Have you lost your mind?"
I didn't answer her. I crouched down and looked at the broken base of the cup.
Just as I thought, there was still white powder in it that hadn't dissolved.
The panic flashed across my mother's face and was gone, replaced at once by that old, put-on look of innocence.
"Do you want to ruin your sister's future? You're her older sister. Protecting her is only right."
Doris Pruitt came bolting out of the bedroom, her eyes rimmed red, and dropped to the floor clutching the leg of my pants.
"Sis, I'm begging you. You're just a temp anyway. No one's going to care."
I stepped back and looked at the two of them coldly.
At this same moment in my last life, I'd wavered too, for one soft instant. But the law doesn't bend for feelings. If you're wrong, you own it.
I promised them that no matter how much the compensation came to, I'd bear it together with my sister.
They cried and agreed, and then coaxed me into drinking the milk, and let me sink into sleep.
But when I woke, I was already at the police station. The surveillance had been wiped, and every piece of evidence pointed to me.
This life, I was wide awake.
I kicked Doris's hand off me.
"Sis?"
"Don't call me that."
The security door was opened from the outside, and my fiancé, Julian Henson, came rushing in and shoved me to the floor.
The back of my head cracked against the corner of the coffee table, and my ears rang.
He crouched down to help Doris up, aching with tenderness for her.
"How can you be this vicious? She's your own sister. Was any of this necessary?"
I picked myself up off the floor.
The back of my head was warm and wet. I couldn't tell if it was blood or sweat.
Then I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
"Hello, I want to report a violation. Someone operated the equipment against protocol and caused serious damage to research equipment."
My mother lunged at me like a woman gone mad, grabbing for the phone.
I turned aside, dodged her, crossed to the door in a few steps, threw every lock on the security door, and left the key in the lock.
"No one's leaving here today."
All I could hear from inside was Doris, crying so hard she could barely breathe.
Julian stayed at her side the whole time, soothing her in that gentle voice, then turned to blame me.
My mother, meanwhile, kept pounding on the door, cursing me in the ugliest words she had.
"Open the door. How did I raise an ungrateful animal like you? What was the point of raising you at all?"
"If your sister goes to prison, I'll fight you to the death."
I leaned back against the door, not moving, laughing without a shred of humor.
Same parents, same blood. So why was she the treasure and I was the weed?
Before long, two officers arrived, and I unlocked the door.
Doris wiped away her tears, stood up, and smoothed her hair.
"Officers, it was her. It was my sister who broke the equipment, not me..."
Julian jumped in. "That's right, Karen was the one operating it at the time. I can testify to that."
I said nothing. I just took a flash drive out of my pocket and handed it to the officers.
"This is the backup of the lab surveillance. It's the whole thing, her changing the parameters against protocol and destroying the equipment."
An officer took the drive, pulled the video up on the spot, watched it carefully, then walked over to Doris.
"We'll need you to cooperate with the investigation."
The handcuffs clicked shut.
Doris finally dropped the act, curling up on the floor and screaming.
"Mom, save me!"
My mother threw herself forward, shrieking, and was blocked by the other officer.
"My daughter is brilliant. What right do you have to take her away?"
I stood in the corner watching it all, and it felt good.
But as Julian followed them out, he paused beside me.
He didn't turn around. He only said one thing.
"Karen Pruitt, you wait. This isn't over."
