After I Stopped Being A Troublemaker, My Family Regretted It

In my parents’ eyes, I was a troublemaker. I recorded a video of the school beauty bullying me.

Before I gave the evidence, she cut her arm and cried, saying it was me. They thought I was making trouble again.

My mother held me down and my father tied me with belts and sent me to a closed-door rehab school.

I had evidence, but it couldn’t beat her tears and a single wound. In 1,825 days, I went from a troublemaker to a monster.

When I was released, they picked me up. No hug, just a cold warning: “Your sister is weak. Don’t scare her.”

I realized Beatrice had become my adopted sister. She wore my sixteenth birthday dress and lived in my old room.

She pinched my arm and smiled. “Elena, why did you come out now? I missed you.”

Yes, I had waited long too; to take back what you owe me, with interest.

——

I looked at Beatrice’s hand on my arm and the faint scar she gave herself five years ago.

For five years, I woke from nightmares, thinking of that scar and how she used it to ruin my life.

Beatrice whispered in my ear, “Was life in the correctional school fun? I heard the food was rotten and full of rat droppings.”

I wasn’t angry. I tilted my head and smiled, an eerie smile I’d practiced thousands of times in the mirror over five years.

Beatrice flinched at my smile, her hand loosening, fear flickering in her eyes. “You… What are you laughing at?”

My mother rushed over, held Beatrice and frowned at me. “Elena! You just got back. What’s with that look! Beatrice isn’t well. Don’t scare her!”

I understood why they adopted her, a “victim” with good grades and a poor family. To outsiders, it was mercy. To themselves, it was self-admiration. She was their proof to the world that they were good and I was wrong.

Beatrice hid behind my mother, her voice trembling. “Mom, don’t blame Elena… She’s just in a bad mood. It’s my fault. I’m fine.”

The more she spoke, the angrier my mother looked. My father frowned, his tone cold. “Five years later, you’re still the same. We feed and clothe you, not for you to cause trouble! Look how sensible Beatrice is!”

To him, I was always the troublemaker. They lived happily and I was just an intruder. It was foolish to still have hopes for this family. I walked toward Beatrice and she stepped back.

“Don’t be afraid. I just wanted to see if your wound healed.” I said, grabbing her wrist and touching the scar she made.

Fear flashed in Beatrice’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll show you what real pain feels like!”

I twisted my arm.

The sharp crack of bones echoed. A medical senior once taught me this; how to use little force to cause the most pain. It was my first survival lesson.

“Ah!” Beatrice screamed hysterically.

My mother pushed me away hard. “Elena! You’re crazy!”

Beatrice fell into her arms, crying, “Mom… my hand… it’s broken…”

“Beatrice just had surgery! How could you do that to her!” my mother shouted in anger and fear.

Looking at the fake family of three, I suddenly felt happy. In that correctional school, only the strong survived.

They taught me to make bullies suffer more than I did. That night, Beatrice was sent to the hospital with a broken wrist.

The doctor said she was in shock and needed rest and sunshine. So my parents came home and ordered me around.

“Beatrice isn’t well, so she’ll stay in your room. It has the best sunlight for her recovery.”

“Where will I sleep then?”

My mother said without thinking, “The basement storage room can be cleaned and used.”

Five years in the correctional school didn’t get me a windowed room and now I also didn’t get a windowed room in my own house. I looked at them and nodded. “Okay, her health is most important.”

Relief crossed their faces, as if saying, “You’ve grown up.” I turned, a cold smile on my lips. Since they cared for her health, I’d let her get some sun.

That night, I spent all my savings to buy a high-powered medical UV lamp from a secondhand dealer.

I entered the master bedroom that used to be mine. Beatrice was asleep, smiling. I quietly moved the large disinfection lamp to her bedside.

I aimed it at her face, plugged it in and set it for one hour. A strong bluish-purple light filled the room eerily.

When finished, I closed the door and hid in the dark, silently counting like in solitary confinement. One, two, three…

About thirty minutes later, a scream shattered the villa. “Ah! My face! My eyes!”

The whole family woke up, panicked and rushed to Beatrice’s room. She was screaming on the bed, her face red and swollen, covered with tiny blisters.

My dad saw my calm face at the doorway, noticed the blue light by the bed, pointed at me and shouted, “Elena! You did this?!”

I leaned in the doorway, yawning innocently. “My sister wanted sun, but I worried the outside sun had bacteria. I bought medical disinfectant to clean her wound completely so it heals faster.”

I smiled innocently at them. My dad’s lips trembled and he couldn’t say a word.

My mom screamed and almost fainted. Beatrice was taken to the hospital. In the end, my parents did nothing to me. They just looked at me as if I were crazy and made me go to the hospital to apologize to Beatrice.

When I arrived at the hospital, my brother, Michael, was there, too. He had just gotten off the plane, dusty and tired, his suitcase still by the ward door.

I stood at the door, looking at the brother who once bought me lollipops and stayed up all night when I was sick.

He wore a neat suit, showing the confidence of a successful man, but his tired eyes revealed his rush to get back.

When he saw Beatrice’s face in thick gauze, his eyes turned red. Without asking, he rushed over and grabbed my collar.

“Elena, do you want to drive this family crazy?!” His spit nearly hit my face.

I looked at him calmly. After five years, he had grown taller and more handsome, but his gaze showed more disgust than he would show a stray dog. I once thought blood was the strongest bond, but now I knew it could be thinner than paper.

Beatrice’s weak voice reached me. “Brother, don’t blame her… I was careless… I made her unhappy… She must have suffered a lot in there. It’s natural she hates me…” Her half-hearted words only added fuel to the fire.

My brother’s rage grew, but I saw a brief hesitation in his eyes that lasted less than three seconds.

“Apologize!” he roared. “Apologize to Beatrice now! If you don’t, I’ll tie you up and take you back where you belong!”

My mother cried, “Elena, just give in. Beatrice is already like this… What more do you want?”

My father’s face darkened. “Apologize to Beatrice!”

Under their angry stares, I calmly said to Beatrice, “I’m sorry.”

Seeing me “give in,” their faces softened a little. My parents and brother left the ward to get Beatrice’s hospital paperwork and supplies.

Once the door closed, only Beatrice and I were left in the ward. She quickly wiped away her tears and weakness.

Half her face was bandaged, but her uncovered eyes were full of smugness and mockery. “See? In this family, you’re worthless. If I cry, they’ll blame you.” She smiled, touched her wound and hissed in pain.

“Oh, I forgot. To make up for the ‘grievances’ I endured, Mom and Dad gave me your sixteenth birthday gift, the limited edition red sports car you hadn’t registered. It’s mine.”

That car was Grandpa’s gift. Before he died, he held my hand and said, “From now on, Elena and I will live like fire, passionate and free.”

She admired my cold gaze and said, “They said someone with a criminal record like you shouldn’t drive such a nice car. They also said when you get out, they’d marry you off to an honest man far from this family, so you won’t cause trouble and affect my brother and me.”

I watched her quietly, stopped recording on my phone and sent the two-minute audio to the “Loving Family” group.

At the same time, down the hallway, my parents and brother’s phones dinged. Beatrice’s face went from red to white, then ashen blue.

“You…” She barely spoke when the ward door swung open.

My brother rushed in first, phone raised with the audio playing. He stared at Beatrice in disbelief. “Beatrice… You… Is this true?”

My parents came after, equally shocked. Beatrice broke down harder than before. “I didn’t! I didn’t!”

She cried, shaking her head at my brother. “I just wanted to upset her! I wanted her to know we’re family and not hold grudges! I only said it in anger! Brother, believe me! How could I think that!”

Seeing her tears, my heart went cold. I knew they meant more than the recording in my hand. My brother began to shake; the shock in his eyes turned into heartache. He hesitated only a few seconds before believing it. His small guilt disappeared, replaced by anger at me.

“She’s already like this and you’re recording her! Are you trying to kill her? Elena, can’t you be kinder?!” He always thought I had to give in.

To cheer up Beatrice, who was “angry” and “frightened,” my brother decided to take her to a mountain to watch the stars in her new red sports car.

That was my car, a limited-edition Ferrari given to me by my grandfather on my sixteenth birthday.

He said red was the color of freedom. Since I didn’t have a driver’s license, it sat in the garage without a plate. Now, it belonged to Beatrice.

Before leaving, Beatrice sat in the passenger seat, rolled down the window and gave me a provocative smile from the villa entrance.

She said to my brother in a playful voice, “Brother, this car is beautiful! Too bad Mom and Dad didn’t give it to our sister. With her temper, she’d probably crash it.”

My brother didn’t argue and just said, “Sit tight.”

I stopped in front of the car and looked at my brother. “Brother, one last time. This car was given to me by Grandpa, right?” I searched his eyes for any sign of the old warmth.

My brother avoided my eyes and honked irritably. “Why bring up the past? Move! Behave and I’ll buy you anything from now on!”

He thought money could fix everything, not knowing some things were priceless. I nodded with a strange smile. “Okay, I won’t bring it up.”

I stepped back, pretending to move and pointed at the car. “It’s dusty. Let me clean it. It’s your new car.”

My brother was startled, likely thinking I had finally given in.

His tense face relaxed and he sighed. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go back.”

He said this, but didn’t stop me or turn off the engine. I pretended to wipe the hood with my sleeve, then lifted it while they weren’t paying attention.

“Elena, what are you doing?!” My brother’s eyes widened as I pulled a can of rust remover from behind me.

I had just found the rust remover in the dark, damp basement. I opened it and sprayed the hot, roaring engine.

“Elena! Are you crazy?!” My brother tried to stop me, but it was too late. I sprayed the whole can.

A white smoke rose and a fire instantly broke out in the engine. Beatrice and my brother, scared, quickly unbuckled and got out of the car.

The fire spread fast, destroying the red car. Soon, the entire expensive sports car became a giant fireball. I stood there, watching the two shivering figures hugging through the hot air.

The flames reflected in my eyes like flickering lights. “I’d rather destroy what I made than leave it to a dog. This fire isn’t burning the car; it’s burning my last attachment to this family.”