They Erased Me, So I Rewrote My Life Chapter 02

They Erased Me, So I Rewrote My Life Chapter 02

Ethan and I were twins.

We were the children of Texas State Senator Walton.

Before Savannah came into our house, Ethan and I were the versions of ourselves our parents had carefully polished. Father was preparing for reelection. Mother was the flawless senator’s wife for the cameras. Every word and action from us had to be worthy of the Walton name.

Since childhood, I had been expected to be calm, proper, and always able to say the right thing.

But I was born with strong emotions.

I felt everything too deeply.

In their eyes, that wasn’t a personality. It was a liability.

Ethan used to stand in front of me. When no one else could hear, he would whisper, “Don’t be scared.”

Then Savannah came.

Father’s team packaged the adoption of a girl from a low-income neighborhood into the feel-good story of the year. Savannah walked into our house with that harmless, quiet face, and she walked onto national television with it, too.

From that day on, everything changed.

In my last life, I spent five years trying to expose her.

When I caught her stealing Mother’s jewelry, she immediately burst into tears, claiming she only wanted to try on “Mom’s things” to know what having a real family felt like.

The moment I expressed any dissatisfaction, they called me cruel, jealous, and uncompassionate.

When I cried, they said I didn’t understand the bigger picture.

Finally, after my eighteenth birthday dinner, I saw Savannah take my fiancé, Bryce Connally, by the arm in front of the reporters’ cameras and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

I lost control on the spot and rushed over to pull her away.

Ethan grabbed my shoulder and held me back.

He looked at me as if I were a mess he had to clean up.

“Eliza, don’t make a scene. When are you going to grow up?”

Afterward, my parents used “extreme emotional instability requiring professional treatment” as an excuse to send me to a so-called behavioral correction center in Utah.

There was no treatment there.

Only punishment.

They drugged me until I spent my days in a fog. The so-called counseling was just repeated degradation and brainwashing. Every call I made home went unanswered.

In the end, I died in that blindingly white room.

This time, I wouldn’t beg them for love.

I didn’t need their hate, either.

I only needed one thing.

To be legally free of them.