I had always known that my parents favored my sister. She was adorable and sweet-talking, their little darling. When, at the age of eight, she had fallen bedridden because of a slap I gave her, their concern was even greater. That day, my parents rushed her to the hospital for an examination, but the results showed she was fine.
However, my parents refused to believe the results. They would rather think the examination was flawed than accept that my sister had deceived them.
They really believed that a single slap from me could have caused my sister's paralysis. We lived in the countryside and when my sister became paralyzed, it was during the busy farming season. With one less person to help, all the work that was originally meant for my sister fell entirely on me for the autumn harvest. My parents preferred to watch me labor under the scorching sun rather than offer any help.
As the "culprit," I took on my sister's share of the work, farming under the blazing sun, causing my skin to burn layer after layer.