I tried to explain, tried to speak, but blood just poured out of my mouth. A coldness spread through me, my vision went dark, and then-- nothing.
After I died, my parents didn't even care. They were just upset they couldn't get a bride price for me anymore. They put on a show of crying, told everyone I fell down the stairs, cremated me with no real funeral, and moved on. My brother, the murderer, faced no consequences. They kept on spoiling him like nothing had happened.
Maybe fate took pity on me because here I am-- back at the beginning.
This time, I just smirked. Let them suffer the consequences. I'm done getting in the way.
When Dad got home that night, he overheard Mom saying that the opium-based tonics were supposed to be great for boosting health. Without missing a beat, he tore open a packet and started chewing on it. My little brother, never one to be left out, started whining for some too. Mom, smiling as if she'd just won a prize, gave him some right away and then waved me off to the kitchen to make dinner.