Late Redemption Of My Mate And My Sister

Seeing this, the nurse put down the small spoon and picked up a straw instead. She gently inserted it between my tightly - closed teeth, attempting to squeeze a little water in bit by bit.

But my throat seemed to be locked, and even the instinct to swallow had deserted me.

The water pooled in my mouth, unable to make its way down my throat.

Some of it even choked into my windpipe, triggering a violent fit of coughing.

Yet, even as I coughed, my body remained as motionless as a log, without the slightest hint of a rise or fall.

Sarah stood by the side, her hands tightly gripping the corners of her clothes.

Frank, on the other hand, turned his back.

His shoulders twitched slightly, and his hands were constantly ruffling his hair, looking extremely agitated and despairing.

When I regained consciousness again, it was already the next day. Frank and Sarah thought I was still in a coma.

"Alice is in such a bad state. Do we really have to expose her for seducing men today?" Frank asked, his voice tinged with hesitation.

Sarah was silent for a long while. "If Alice remains spotless, how can Jenny gain the favor of those nobles?" she replied coldly.

And there I lay, on the hospital bed, my heart brimming with shock and desolation as I listened to their conversation.

Just then, the nurse entered to check the drip.

The moment she caught sight of my paper - pale face and eyes filled with utter despair, she froze for a split second. But before she could utter a word of inquiry, I wearily closed my eyes.

Sarah, my so - called sister, was fully aware of my harrowing backstory.

As a mere infant, I was mistakenly swapped and ended up in a desperately poverty - stricken family.

From the moment I could remember, life was a constant struggle.

I often went to bed with an empty stomach, my small frame shivering in the thin, tattered blankets that barely offered any warmth during the cold winter nights.

School was a luxury I could barely afford.

I had to scavenge for used textbooks, and more often than not, I would work odd jobs after school just to earn a few coins for a simple meal.

I faced ridicule from my peers for my shabby clothes and unkempt appearance, but I refused to let their words break me.

When I discovered my passion for belly - dance, there were no fancy dance studios or professional instructors for me. I learned from old, grainy videos in a dilapidated community center, practicing on a worn - out floor until my feet bled. There were times when I was on the verge of giving up, exhausted both physically and mentally, but the dream of making something of myself kept me going.

After years of scraping by, enduring countless rejections, and pouring every ounce of my being into my craft, I finally managed to catch a break.

One small performance led to another, and gradually, my name started to spread in the belly - dance community.

With each new opportunity, I worked harder, perfecting my moves and adding my own unique flair.

Through sheer grit and determination, I clawed my way up to become a renowned belly - dance master.

And now, I was lying in this bed, my body so feeble that I lacked the strength to even sit up unassisted.

If only I had known that returning to my own family would lead to a life worse than death, I would have never, ever set foot in the Brown family.

An hour later, out of the blue, the hospital ward door was brutally smashed open with a thunderous crash.

A ravenous mob of individuals, each brandishing live - streaming gadgets like weapons, charged in like a pack of wild beasts unleashed from their cages.

Men and women, indistinguishable in their frenzy, crammed into the confined space.

Despite my desperate will to react, my body, enfeebled by illness, remained completely paralyzed, a lifeless vessel.

All I could do was gape in abject horror, my eyes dilated to the size of saucers, helplessly witnessing the unfolding nightmare.