I Was Born Bad

I was born bad.

At twelve, I slipped enough sleeping pills into my stepfather's wine to kill him. At fifteen, I ran over the rich kid who wanted to marry my mom.

In the end, my mom dragged me into a fire, and we died together.

She said I had ruined the happy, fulfilling life she could have had.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I drugged my stepfather.

This time, I chose to throw away the sleeping pills in my hand.

I wanted to see if she would be satisfied if I stopped interfering in her life.