Their Mad Remorse After Giving Up Hope

My brother was rotten from the start. He tried to kill me more times than I could count.

At five, he threw a lit lighter onto my lap. The flames melted half my face, scarring me forever and leaving a constant, burning itch. Through tears, I told the truth, but Mom only held me and whispered, Your brothers just a baby. He couldnt have done that.

At ten, he tricked me into fetching a ball from a thorn thicket hiding a hornets nest. I was stung by hundreds, fell down a ravine, and shattered my leg. My kidneys failed, leaving me tied to a catheter for life. Still, no one believed me. You werent careful, they said. Stop being a burden.

On my eighteenth birthday, he shoved peanut butter cake into my mouth. I choked instantly, collapsing as he stood over me, grinning at my struggle. Only when hed had his fill did he run out shouting, Grace ate cake and had an allergic reaction! Mom screamed. Dad cursed. Why wont that useless girl just die already?

I smiled.

[Congratulations, Host. Hidden ending unlocked: 99 Deaths.]

[In 24 hours, the portal to the real world opens.]

My throat was almost entirely blocked. Every attempt to breathe sounded like a broken bellows, yet not a single drop of oxygen reached my lungs. As I lay on the floor drifting into unconsciousness, I heard heavy, hurried footsteps echoing down the hall.

Dad burst through the door and immediately slapped me twice across the face. "Always stuffing your face! Are you really that greedy? What did I do in a past life to deserve you? Can't you give us one single day of peace?"

Mom was frantically tearing through the drawers. "Where is the EpiPen? Where does this stupid girl keep her emergency medication?"

When I was first injured years ago, they kept emergency meds in every corner of the house. Back then, even a slight cough from me would make Mom panic and rub my back. "Are you okay, Grace? Do we need to go to the hospital?" But as the incidents piled up, their concern morphed into exhaustion. Eventually, I was left to drag my crippled leg to my follow-up appointments all by myself. Of course she didn't know where the medication was. She hadn't cared enough to look in years.

Dad's face darkened, and he dumped the contents of a drawer onto the floor, his voice dripping with irritation. "If we can't find it, then fine. Maybe we will finally all be free."

Two agonizing minutes later, Mom found the pen on top of a cabinet. Her hands shook as she plunged the needle into my thigh. The crushing weight on my chest slowly lifted, though the fiery red hives covering my body still burned, and the residual muscle aches left me pinned to the floor, unable to move a muscle.

Mom looked at Dad, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "Maybe we should take her to the hospital just to be safe?"

Dad hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then his anger flared up again. "To the hospital? With what money? Every penny we make goes toward her endless medical bills! Luke, next time your sister tries to kill herself, don't bother telling us. Once she's gone, the rest of us can finally have a real life."

He slammed the door behind him. Mom sighed, shooting me one last disappointed look before following him out.

Luke leaned down, whispering in my ear with a cruel chuckle. "Can't die, can't leave. Pretty miserable, huh? Guess what kind of game we are going to play next time?"

He strolled out of the room, puffed up with pride, totally missing the genuine smile that spread across my face. Thank God. I am finally the one who gets to be free.

Years ago, in the real world, I had been terminally ill and refused to be a burden to my grandmother. I jumped from the hospital rooftop, only to hear a mechanical voice in my head as I fell.

[Host detected. Survival instinct is below 10%. Initiating the Rebirth Redemption Quest. If you successfully complete your mission, you will be rewarded with a healthy, brand-new life in your original world.]

My mission was to redeem my sociopathic younger brother, Luke. From the day he was born, I did everything to care for him, constantly whispering words of love and guidance. But on the very night he learned to speak, he stared at me with a sickeningly sweet smile.

[You are the ninety-ninth host I've met,] he had whispered inside my mind. [The first ninety-eight died playing my games. I hope you last a bit longer.]

That was when I realized he wasn't just a troubled child. He was a malicious, corrupted transmigrator.

With his twisted experience, Luke easily turned my life into a living hell, systematically stripping away my parents' trust until I was completely isolated. When I was lying in a hospital bed with third-degree burns, clinging to life, the system's voice had chimed again.

[Due to a major world glitch, Host has unlocked the hidden ending. Surviving ninety-nine deaths will also count as mission completion.]

In truth, every one of Luke's pranks should have killed me. The system had kept my broken body barely functioning, forcing me to endure over a decade of horrific torture just to reach this day.

[The portal opens in 24 hours. You only need to experience your one-hundredth and final death to leave this world forever.]

I forced my battered body up, trying to drag myself back onto the mattress, but my palm accidentally pressed down hard on the emergency call button on my headboard. A piercing alarm blared. Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and the door was thrown open once more.

Dad stood at the entrance, chest heaving, his car keys clenched tightly in his fist. Mom scanned me with lingering panic. "What is it now?"

I shook my head weakly. "Nothing... I just..."

Before I could finish, Dad hurled his car keys directly at my face. They struck the bridge of my nose with a sickening crack, sending a blinding wave of pain through my skull.

"If it's nothing, why the hell did you press the alarm? Are you trying to give your mother and me a heart attack?" Dad roared. "You're already a useless cripple, and now you're acting out like a psychopath. Why can't you be more like your brother? When are you going to grow up?"

Watching him rave, I felt absolutely nothing. No anger, no sorrow. The stolen happiness of my childhood was always meant to be paid back.

Before Luke was born, my parents had treated me like their whole world. I wore the nicest clothes they could afford. When I mentioned wanting to learn the piano, Dad worked three months of overtime just to buy me a high-end brand and hire a professional tutor. When a boy at school cut my hair as a prank, my normally timid mother marched straight into the principal's office and fought for me tooth and nail.

In the real world, I had been raised by my grandmother and never knew what it felt like to have parents. For a brief, foolish moment, I had actually hoped I could stay with them forever.

But then Luke arrived, and the dream shattered.

Even as an infant, Luke would spit in my face. When I pinched his cheek in frustration, Mom yanked me away, her eyes cold with disappointment. "Grace! You're the older sister! How could you lay a hand on a baby? Did we teach you nothing?"

After the fire, whenever the scars on my face flared up with excruciating pain, I would sob and clutch Mom's hand. "It was him! He threw the lighter at me! He was born evil, Mom! He's going to ruin us all!" I begged. "Please, it's not too late. We have to watch him. Don't let him fool you!"

At first, they offered half-hearted comfort. But eventually, Dad's patience snapped. He slammed a heavy glass ashtray onto the floor, his eyes shot with blood. "Grace, we tolerated your tantrums because we felt bad for you! But this is insane! You caused that fire yourself, and now you're trying to frame your toddler brother?"

He raised his hand to strike me, but Mom held him back, looking at me with pitying disdain. "Grace, listen to me. I know what you're doing. But throwing these fits out of jealousy to get our attention is only going to make us resent you."

From then on, Luke's physical abuse became a regular routine, and my parents' tolerance evaporated. Once, he pushed me from the top of a slide. I hit the concrete head-first and blacked out. When I opened my eyes, I was still lying on the cold pavement. Mom stood over me, her arms crossed. "I suppose your brother did this too? How long are you going to keep up this pathetic act?" she snapped. "Do you think the hospital is a hotel? My credit cards are already maxed out from your bills!"

That was the day I gave up. I completely let go of any hope of redeeming Luke.

Seeing me silent, Mom sighed and reached down to pull me up from the floor. But Luke's eyes darted around, and he suddenly let out a shrill cry.

"Mom! Dad! Talk to me! I can't hear anything!" He clutched his ears, feigning agony. "I was standing right next to the alarm. It was so loud... I think my ears are bleeding!"

Mom gasped, instantly dropping my arm. My crippled leg hit the hardwood floor with a dull thud, sending a jolt of pain through my spine. "Oh my god, let's get you to the doctor right now!" she cried.

Dad grabbed me by the hair and dragged me toward the basement stairs. "You miserable parasite! You're already a broken piece of trash, and now you're trying to ruin your brother too?" he spat. "Stay down here and think about what you've done. No food for you today!"

The heavy wooden door slammed shut, plunging the cellar into pitch darkness. The only sound was the scratching of mice in the corners. I closed my eyes, peacefully waiting for the clock to run down.

Some time later, a rough hand shook me awake.

Dad tossed a worn jacket over me, his voice eerily calm. "Put this on. Get up."

My body felt like it was going to detonate. A sudden, violent fever had taken hold, leaving my head spinning. When I didn't move fast enough, Dad's face twisted with annoyance. Mom stepped forward, grabbing my limp arms and shoving them into the sleeves. "Grace, stop being stubborn. Just listen to us. We're doing this for your own good."

Suddenly, she paused. "Why are you burning up? Are you..."

Before her hand could touch my forehead, Luke chimed in, his voice dripping with exaggerated sweet concern. "Do we really have to send her to a care facility, Mom? I can skip my tutoring classes. I won't go out with my friends on weekends anymore. I'll spend all my time and money looking after Grace myself!" He looked at me, a sickening glint in his eyes. "Grace, just apologize to Mom and Dad. Promise you won't cause any more trouble, and we can get through this as a family."

A few years ago, a family friend had suggested sending me to a long-term care home after seeing my condition. Back then, Dad had slammed his fist on the table in a rage. "Your father-in-law went into one of those places and died a month later! Are you asking me to murder my own daughter? As long as we have a roof over our heads and food on our table, I will never abandon Grace in a dump like that!"

Looking back, the memory was a sick joke.

I shook my head weakly. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Mom's hand froze in midair, her expression hardening into disgust. Dad's anger boiled over. He grabbed my arm and dragged me across the floor toward the front door. "I should have shipped you off years ago. Why did I waste so much time and money on an ungrateful leech like you?"

I was tossed onto the back seat of the car. With every bump in the road, my internal organs felt like they were being pierced by hot knives. I drifted in and out of consciousness from the sheer agony until the car finally screeched to a halt in front of a pair of rusted iron gates.

The facility director, wearing a stained white coat, hauled me out of the car and shoved me into a squeaking wheelchair. "You folks got lucky today," he said with a greasy smile. "We just had a bed open up. Once you pay the administrative fee, we can get her processed."

Before we even crossed the threshold, the sound of blood-curdling screams and shattering glass echoed from the hallway. A few burly male orderlies rushed past us, pinning a thrashing patient to the dirty floor like livestock before plunging a syringe into his neck. Within seconds, the patient's eyes rolled back, and he went limp.

Mom shrank back, suddenly terrified. "What is wrong with him? And our Grace is a young woman, and you can't put her in a room with a violent man!"

The director shrugged off her concern. "He's just a bit schizophrenic. He's perfectly pleasant when he's medicated. Besides, we're completely full. Once you're in a place like this, gender is the least of your worries."

Dad stared at the floor, his face grim, while Mom darted uneasy glances at me. After a tense silence, Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Luke cut in.

"Dad, Mom, the air in here is making me feel really sick. I think I'm getting a fever." He forced out a wet, dramatic cough. "Besides, Grace grew up around boys. I'm sure she'll get along fine with him."

Panicked, Mom and Dad immediately started pushing Luke toward the exit. "Right, right, let's get out of here. Director, we'll leave Grace in your capable hands."

The staff tossed me onto a filthy mattress like a sack of meat. Once the director locked the door, they abandoned us.

Late into the night, the schizophrenic patient on the floor finally stirred. He rolled over, locked his wild, bloodshot eyes on me, and let out a manic, silent grin. From beneath his pillow, he pulled a small kitchen knife, playfully tracing its edge along my skin before plunging it deep into my thigh.

Dark blood sprayed across the sheets. I was too weak to lift a finger, and even if I could, I wouldn't have fought back. He went into a frenzy, stabbing at my face and chest. The room filled with the wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh.

I bit my lip until it bled, choking back every scream. Just a little longer. Just bear it a little longer, and it will all be over.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain vanished. I found myself floating, looking down at my own butchered body. The familiar mechanical voice echoed in my mind.

[Congratulations, Host. Mission accomplished. The return portal will open at noon. Please stand by.]

My spirit drifted out of the room, wandering the grim halls of the facility. Around eight in the morning, to my surprise, I saw Mom and Dad walking down the corridor.

Mom's eyes were red and puffy. "I couldn't sleep a wink last night," she murmured. "No matter how angry we were, we shouldn't have left her in a place like this."

Dad huffed, though his voice had softened slightly. "You women are always so dramatic. Let's just see how she's adjusting. If she's miserable, and if she's willing to apologize and beg for forgiveness, maybe we'll take her back home."

Standing nearby, the director rolled his eyes when they weren't looking. "They got along beautifully. Not a peep out of them all night. But let me make one thing clear: if you change your minds now, you're only getting half your deposit back."

A card terminal beeped as Dad swiped his card. Then, the heavy door was pushed open.