She said I was worthless. That ranking at the bottom of the class was a disgrace to our family.
The belt carved lines across every inch of my body. I screamed myself hoarse trying to explain—
But she didn't hear me. Wouldn't hear me. Her eyes stayed red and empty as the blows kept falling.
Only when exhaustion took her did she finally stop. She locked my door and went to sleep.
The next morning, my mother found me still hanging there. Covered in welts. Barely breathing.
She froze.
She stared at me like she was seeing me for the first time in her life.
Then, hands shaking, she cut me down.
"Corinne?" Her voice cracked.
"Oh God, what did I do?"
"Did I—did I mix you two up again?"
That day, my mother wept like her heart was being torn out. She touched my wounds with trembling fingers, apologizing over and over:
"I'm so sorry, Corinne."
"Your sister did so poorly on her exams. I just wanted to teach her a lesson."
"But I got confused again."
"I'm useless—I can never tell you two apart..."
Watching her hold me, crying so hard she could barely breathe, apologizing without end—
I felt something twist in my chest.
I couldn't bring myself to blame her.
Instead, fighting through the pain, I comforted her: