My Sister’s Lie

Chapter 1

I couldn’t believe it. My sister, Ashley, thought periods were such a hassle she wanted a hysterectomy.

I told her removing a healthy organ would definitely have consequences.

Besides, no hospital would perform such a reckless procedure.

She wouldn’t listen and secretly contacted a shady clinic.

Mom and I intervened, and we even reported the rogue doctor.

Later, she married into a wealthy family after having twins, living a life of luxury with millions.

But not only did she steal the $10,000 inheritance Dad specifically left me.

She also drugged me and delivered me to the operating table of that same unlicensed doctor, freshly out of prison.

“Our family is rich, we need that uterus to produce an heir. You, on the other hand, get to enjoy this special treatment!”

The doctor, with a bloody needle, grinned wickedly as he injected me with anesthesia.

The tools weren’t sterilized. I got infected, my body deteriorated, and I died in despair.

Then I opened my eyes again, and there she was, Ashley, angrily berating the hospital for refusing her hysterectomy.

I died, rotting on a straw mattress in our old farmhouse.

While Mom and Ashley were off enjoying the sun and beaches at some fancy resort.

But suddenly, a flash of white light filled my unfocused vision.

And there, again, was Ashley’s arrogant, vicious face.

She was yelling at the hospital staff:

“What a dump! This place should be shut down! I don’t want this stupid uterus! Why can’t I get rid of it?”

“A vet can neuter a pet, but I can’t decide what to do with my own body? Are animal rights greater than human rights?”

“Being born a woman is a curse! I must have been a terrible person in my past life!”

It hit me: I was back eight years ago, when I was in grad school for physical therapy!

This was after Ashley’s hospital outburst, back home ranting at me again.

She believed women who gave birth were inferior, that true female empowerment was childlessness.

To prove her point, she actually went to the hospital and demanded a hysterectomy.

After the doctors refused, she threw a tantrum in the lobby, cursing and screaming.

Security dragged her out, and she yelled,

“My sister, Brianna, goes to your affiliated school! You touch me, and she’ll get you all fired, you gatekeepers!”

My professor found me, furious, and told me to deal with it. I was mortified.

I got to the hospital and tried to reason with her:

“Even if you don’t want kids, your uterus is still an organ. Removing it will mess with your hormones and internal structure. It’s not good for you.”

She threw her water bottle at me, hitting my forehead and drawing blood:

“Stop pretending you care! I haven’t forgotten how Dad abandoned Mom when she was in so much pain, just to take care of you!”

“The uterus isn’t just physical torture, it’s mental anguish too.”

“Mom is so amazing. If she didn’t have a uterus or kids, she’d be a CEO, not a maid!”

“You’re just jealous, trying to stop me from having a better life!”

The incident she kept bringing up, about Dad leaving Mom for me, was twisted.

I was barely a year old, burning up with pneumonia, seizing and rolling my eyes.

Mom was having cramps and just lay in bed moaning, ignoring me.

Dad came home from work and rushed me to the hospital.

If he hadn’t, I’d be dead.

But Mom resented him for staying with me at the hospital instead of catering to her period cramps.

She had Ashley for a “mini-me,” someone to compete for Dad’s affection.

Even though she had another daughter, she filled Ashley’s head with stories of Dad’s favoritism towards me.

She told her how he was a heartless jerk who abandoned his suffering wife for me.

Ashley never had cramps, but she grew to despise periods, resenting not being born male.

In my past life, after the hospital fiasco, I called Mom, the only person Ashley somewhat respected.

We barely managed to drag her home.

“Hey, Bri, you’re in med school, right? Can’t you just do the surgery? I’d save a ton of money.”

“Plus, you could take care of me afterward. Isn’t that what you learn in med school, how to wait on people?”

Ashley’s haughty voice snapped me back to reality.

She was looking down at me, her pretty face full of arrogance.

I chuckled inwardly at her ignorance:

“No way. I’m studying physical therapy, and I’m just a student. I can’t perform major surgery. Are you serious?”

Ashley scoffed, “Oh, aren’t you always bragging about being smarter than me, with better grades?”

“All those years of studying, and you can’t even do a simple operation?”

“Mom should have spent that tuition money on my manicures!”

After Dad died, Mom focused all her attention and resources on Ashley.

She even sold our house to pay for dance lessons, violin classes, and art school.

She wouldn’t even pay for my college expenses.

Eventually, as they wished, the son of the family Mom worked for took a liking to Ashley.

They slept together on their first date and had twins.

His mother adored the babies, showering Ashley with $10,000 monthly allowances, grateful for her “service.”

Ashley had plenty of money, but just to spite me, she forged Dad’s will and stole my inheritance.

Then she strapped me to that operating table, a guinea pig for that quack doctor.

Fine. If that’s how she wanted to play it, I wasn’t going to help her keep the uterus she so desperately wanted rid of.

I raised an eyebrow, “Well, if you’re really determined, there might be a way.”

“Some clinics do those procedures. It’s a pretty simple operation, not much risk involved.”

Ashley’s eyes lit up. “Why didn’t you say so? Tell me where!”

“I just heard about it, I don’t know the specifics.”

Her face fell. “So you’re useless then.”

She stormed off.

I didn’t have the butcher’s contact info, but it didn’t matter.

He’d already noticed her at the hospital, during her meltdown.

He’d contact her soon, offering his services.

My words were just to plant the seed, to ease her doubts and make her accept the offer without hesitation.

I knew firsthand the horrors of that clinic.

Subpar skills, equipment, hygiene, emergency preparedness – a death trap.

Survival wasn’t guaranteed.

A few days later, Ashley called.

“I have a consultation at a clinic Thursday morning. Take the day off and come with me. If it seems okay, I’ll schedule the surgery.”

I hated her entitled tone, but I agreed.

I wanted to see her walk into her own destruction.

At the clinic, while she was filling out forms, I went into the examination room.

A pale woman with thin, severe features and silver-rimmed glasses sat at the desk.

It was her, Dr. Janice Keller, the woman who used me as a lab rat, who gave me the infection that killed me.

She looked up, her narrow eyes crinkling into an emotionless smile.

“I’m delighted you also dislike this primary sex characteristic. Awakened women will be rewarded, welcome, welcome.”

I composed myself and shook my head. “I’m not having the surgery. It’s for my sister.”

Her face darkened. “What? You’re not? Why not?”

“The uterus is a burden. No more messy periods, no worries about fibroids or cervical cancer.”

“Since you’re here, why haven’t you embraced this awareness?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Normal people don’t just remove their uteruses. First, abdominal surgery is risky and takes forever to recover from. Second, it’s an organ! Removing it can cause pelvic floor issues, organ displacement, incontinence, bowel obstructions. Those are no picnic compared to periods.”

The woman sneered. “Oh, a colleague, I see.”

“But don’t think your textbook knowledge gives you the right to judge others’ choices.”

“The uterus is the root of female oppression, a tool of patriarchal control!”

“Every woman deserves the right to choose. Hospitals refusing is a violation of personal autonomy! And I’m here, sent by a higher power, to help women exercise that right!”

“The gates of paradise are open. Why hesitate?”

I pretended to cower in fear. “No, no, I’m too scared for such radical actions.”

Ashley walked in just then. Seeing me, she puffed out her chest and pushed me aside:

“Doctor, you’re speaking my language! The uterus is a cage, a prison. No intelligent woman wants that disgusting organ!”

They both glared at me like I was something dirty.

As if removing a uterus was some grand act of human progress.

And I, for not sharing their view, was a relic of a bygone era.

Ashley, to prove her boldness in front of me, decided then and there to have the surgery.

Ashley, full of pride, went into the operating room. I was led to a waiting room.

The surgery took place in a musty, dark room.

Forty minutes later, she was wheeled into the windowless, dim recovery room.

Her rosy cheeks were now as pale as paper.

And the organ she so loathed, the one that gave her a life of luxury in my past life, was gone.

As the anesthesia wore off, her face lit up with excitement.

“Ha! No more periods, no more cramps! Ice cream and iced drinks anytime I want!”

“That’s not all!” The doctor chimed in. “No more burdens of childbirth, no hormonal tyranny! You’re free to live for yourself!”

She held up a jar with a piece of tissue floating in formaldehyde:

“Behold this vile piece of flesh! You’ve cast it off! Congratulations on your ascension!”

Ashley smirked at me. “Silly Brianna, too chicken for such a liberating experience.”

“Mom and I are brave. We take charge of our lives. Not like you, so timid you won’t even seize this opportunity.”

I gave her a thumbs-up.

Honestly, I admired her audacity.

Ashley was Janice’s first hysterectomy patient.

So she was very attentive, practically fawning over Ashley.

Which was fine by me, less babysitting duty for yours truly.

I went back to school. Two days later, Ashley called.

“Mom needs me to bring her some clothes. I’m still recovering, so you take them this afternoon!”

In my past life, this errand was Mom’s setup for Ashley’s “chance encounter” with the wealthy heir, Ethan Scott.

The wheels of fate were turning. Their romantic meeting in the garden would now be a figment of the past.

I arrived at the mansion and knocked on the back door.

Mom opened it, her face twisting in anger.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Ashley?”

I shrugged. “She didn’t want to come, so she sent me.”

To ensure a genuine reaction during the encounter, Mom hadn’t told Ashley about her plan. She thought it was just a chore.

“I know your tricks! You just want to steal my Ethan! He’s for Ashley! Get out of here!”

She threw the clothes back at me.

I bit my lip, standing there as she continued to berate me.

Until I heard footsteps behind me.

“Mary, why are you so harsh on this sweet girl? It breaks my heart.”

It was Ethan Scott, his eyes roaming over me.

He was a playboy, always charmed by young women.

And even more so if they showed interest.

Mom’s expression changed instantly, afraid he’d be attracted to me.

She darted to the flowerbed.

Scooped up a handful of fertilizer.

And dumped it over my head.

The stench of rotting compost filled the air.

I remembered Ashley mentioning Ethan’s OCD and aversion to dirt and smells.

Mom, working there, knew this too.

Ethan’s gaze shifted from amusement to disgust.

Mom was thrilled.

Ethan, also splattered, ran inside to shower.

Mom spat at me, covered in filth.

“Don’t think I don’t see your little game. Trying to seduce Mr. Scott?”

“He’s for Ashley! You’re not worthy! Now get lost!”

I didn’t beg or run, just stood there, expressionless, as she continued her tirade.

I was used to it. The more I didn’t react, the angrier she got.

And she did. Her voice escalated, attracting the attention of the lady of the house.

“Mary, what’s all the commotion?”

A dignified woman with a stern face emerged from the house.

It was Ethan’s mother, Victoria Scott, the true power behind the Scott empire.

“Mrs. Scott, my daughter came to deliver clothes and demanded a tip! I scolded her, and she threw fertilizer at me! She tripped and got it all over herself.”

“I’m so sorry for the disturbance.”

I calmly wiped the muck off my face and addressed Mrs. Scott.

“Hello, Mrs. Scott. There was a misunderstanding. I accidentally got into the fertilizer.”

“I noticed you have orchids. They prefer shade and don’t do well with compost. A nitrogen-rich fertilizer, applied lightly and regularly, and some indirect sunlight would encourage more blooms and vibrant colors.”

She looked me over, then nodded. “Impressive, a young lady who knows about orchids.”

“I love them, but I lack the time. The gardeners aren’t very attentive.”

“Since you have knowledge, perhaps you could come by weekly to care for them. It would be a great help.”

“Mary, take her inside and get her cleaned up.”

Mom glared at me but didn’t object.

She thought the fertilizer incident had ruined my chances with Ethan, eliminating me as a threat to Ashley.

Plus, I’d earn extra money, leaving more for Ashley’s future “rich wife” wardrobe.

Mom thought she’d played her cards right. She had no idea what I was planning.

This time around, my focus wasn’t Ethan Scott.

It was his mother, Victoria, the one with the real power.

I knew Mrs. Scott loved orchids from my past life, as Ashley’s mother-in-law.

I knew her other preferences too.

Ethan’s father had died of a heart attack a few years ago. Mrs. Scott took over the family business, running the entire empire.

In Ashley’s stories, she was a monster-in-law.

Not only did she keep a tight grip on the company, preventing Ashley from any managerial role, but she also deemed Ashley’s education inadequate, forcing her to go abroad for an MBA.

Ashley was spoiled and vapid. No sane person would hand over a billion-dollar company to an airhead.

Sending her to get an MBA was incredibly generous.

But Ashley, ungrateful, resented Mrs. Scott.

Despite all that, Mrs. Scott adored her grandchildren.

For their sake, she gave Ashley a meaningless title, a hefty salary, and company shares.

Ashley, never satisfied, continued to undermine Mrs. Scott, even resorting to black magic with Mom, hoping for her demise.

Coincidentally or not, Mrs. Scott did die of cervical cancer a few years later.

The Scott empire fell into Ashley’s incompetent hands.

Now, Ashley, with her self-inflicted hysterectomy, had lost her ticket to that life.

The wheels of fate were turning. This time, my body, my life, would be my own.