Chapter 2I Was Born To Replace Her

Before my parents could react, the front door flew open. My Grandma Ruth, who had been waiting outside, rushed in and violently dragged Hannah away from me.

My father stumbled backward, cradling me against his chest, murmuring frantic comforts.

"You ungrateful brat!" Grandma Ruth screamed, slapping Hannah across the face. "She is a baby! Her very first word was 'sister,' and you still tried to kill her?"

My mother covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

"What do I want?" Hannah shrieked, clutching her burning cheek. "I want her dead!"

Slap!

Another strike cut her off. I had already lost count of how many times she had been hit today.

Grandma Ruth and several other relatives who had come to help with the baby stood blockading the doorway, glaring down at Hannah with pure disgust.

"Hannah, you are nothing but a parasite," Grandma Ruth spat, her eyes red with anger on behalf of her daughter. "Your real mother abandoned you like trash. Laura took you in, raised you, made sure you never felt second-best."

"And how do you repay her? By trying to poison her, and now trying to strangle her newborn? Is your heart made of stone?"

My Aunt Rachel crossed her arms, looking at Hannah with deep aversion. "Exactly. Your father came into this marriage with baggage—you. Laura raised you like her own. You should be kissing the ground she walks on, not acting like a psychopath."

"I..." Hannah’s face burned a deep, painful red, but no words came out.

From the corner of the room, my Grandpa George let out a heavy, tired sigh.

"If we had known it would turn out like this, we never would have fought so hard for custody. We should have let you go with your gambling mother. At least then you wouldn't be here, ruining this family."

A ruin.

Hannah flinched as if she had been struck by lightning. She slowly raised her head, looking at the grandfather who used to buy her ice cream, then at the aunts and uncles, and finally at my parents.

"Is that... is that what you all think of me?"

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

My mother looked away first. My father lowered his gaze, tightening his grip on me.

Their silence was the loudest answer of all.

But it hadn't always been this way. Before they knew I existed, I knew they loved Hannah.

My father used to lift her high above his head when he came home from work, laughing. "That's my smart girl! Straight A's again! I'm so proud of you, Hannah."

My mother used to sit her down every morning, gently braiding her hair with colorful ribbons before walking her to school.

That warmth had been real. I had felt it through the quiet thrum of the house. I had looked forward to joining a family that possessed so much love.

Until they found me.

As my mother’s belly grew, she no longer had the energy to wake up early and braid Hannah’s hair. My father’s attention shifted entirely to nursery color swatches and baby monitors. He even made Hannah move into the smaller guest room so her bedroom could be converted into my nursery.

And then there was the school field day.

They had promised they would be there. Hannah had waited by the school gates from morning until dusk, but they never showed up.

All because that afternoon, I had kicked my mother’s stomach. Just a tiny, fluttery kick.

But it was enough for them to panic, rush to the doctor, and completely forget about the daughter waiting in the schoolyard.

When Hannah had finally walked through the door that night, she was shaking with rage and heartbreak.

"You promised!" she had screamed, throwing her backpack at the wall. "Why didn't you come? Do you have any idea how long I—"

"It was just a field day," my father had snapped, interrupting her. "You've had dozens of them. Your sister kicked your mother's stomach today. We had to make sure she was safe. None of your school games are more important than your sister's life."

Hannah had stood there, frozen, as if trying to translate a foreign language.

And then, she had flipped the dining table.

"You already have me! Why do you need another one? You have to choose right now—it's either her or me!"

But they hadn't answered. They had only looked at her as if she were throwing a childish tantrum, too busy worrying about me.