The World Cheers for Me After Rebirth

Ow... The first thing I felt as consciousness returned was the burning sting on my face. 'I died. Didn't I? Then why does it still hurt?' I forced my eyes open, only to see a woman with fiery red hair yanking at my hair with all her strength. She glared at me with bloodshot eyes, nostrils flaring and lips trembling with fury, like a madwoman. How... how could it be her? I froze, staring at the familiar face. The pain momentarily vanished, replaced by shock. It was my adoptive mother, Agatha Torren. But she was dead. She died three years ago. "You filthy wretch, Helena Torren!" she screeched, her venomous words stabbing into me. "You belong in hell! How dare you stoop to doing a job like that? You've disgraced us completely!" The familiar stream of insults snapped me back to reality. My body trembled with a mix of anger and disbelief. "How... how come you are still alive?" Her face twisted with rage. "You wish I were dead, don't you?" she shrieked, slapping me hard across the face. The sharp sting reverberated through my skull as she dragged me to the mirror by the front door. "Look at yourself! Just look!" I turned to the mirror, and my reflection stared back. I was wearing a black-and-white maid costume so short it barely covered my thighs. The headband in my blonde hair was crooked, and my face—oh, God—my face. One side was swollen, my lip split and bleeding, with fingerprints stark against my skin. She shoved my head closer to the mirror. "w***e! Slut!" she spat, her voice breaking into sobs. "You'd be better off dead!" Her vicious words should have made my blood boil, but instead, an eerie calm settled over me. 'So what if I've gone back? Even if life gave me a second chance, if I've returned to six years ago—before the Andersons found me—nothing has changed.' But why? Why should it be this way? This woman had destroyed me. She had switched me with her real daughter, stealing my rightful place as the heiress of the Anderson family. And yet, she'd spent years drinking away the money I'd worked so hard to earn while berating me for ruining their reputation. Now, the woman who had shattered my life had the audacity to pin my head against the mirror and hiss, "It's that seductive face of yours—if only it were ruined!" "No!" I shouted, snapping out of my trance. This face was proof of my true identity as the Andersons' daughter. If I wanted my life back, I couldn't let her destroy it. Fueled by a surge of desperation, I turned and shoved her with all my strength. She fell to the floor like a rag doll, and before I knew it, I was on top of her, pinning her down. She went down so easily... Why did I never fight back before? She flailed, shouting obscenities, "You bastard! You filthy bastard! How dare you lay hands on me?" "Bastard?" I repeated, pressing my weight onto her, my hands closing around her throat the way hers had done to me so many times before. "If I'm a bastard, what does that make you? You gave birth to me, didn't you?" Her face turned red as she struggled against my grip. I leaned in close, my voice a mocking whisper. "Mother, I'm not your daughter, am I?" "You're not!" she shouted, the words tumbling out with raw panic. Her eyes widened in fear as her hands flailed against my arms. 'See? Deep down, you've always known.' Calm and composed, I shifted my weight down, tightening my grip. My focus narrowed on her gasping face. "What the hell are you doing, you psycho?" A sharp kick to my side sent me sprawling across the floor. I hadn't even noticed the door open. Billy Torren, my so-called brother, rushed to Agatha's side, helping her up. "Mom, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. I was so focused that I didn't notice Billy had returned. He was a former baseball player; his strength far outweighed mine. "w***e," he spat, picking up a baseball bat from the entryway. I barely had time to process his words before the pain from his kick radiated through my ribs, freezing me in place. His sneakers were only inches away. I clenched my eyes shut. 'Is this it? Am I going to die here, again?' But then the wail of police sirens cut through the silence. Billy cursed under his breath and dropped the bat, rushing upstairs. I knew why—whatever drugs he had hidden up there would be far worse for him than beating me. Clutching my ribs, I struggled to sit up. My gaze turned toward the open door, where flashing red and blue lights illuminated the night. Car after car pulled up, surrounding the house and flooding the yard with blinding light. Through the glare, I saw them—police officers... and those rows of men in sharp black suits stepping out of their vehicles, lining up in perfect formation. From the center car, a woman emerged. Her tailored powder-blue suit fit her perfectly, exuding elegance and authority. Agatha stumbled to the door, raising her hands in protest. "Who are you people? This is an invasion of privacy! I'm calling the police!" I braced myself against the wall. "She's lying!" I shouted, my voice raw. "There are drugs in the house!" Agatha's head snapped toward me, her eyes filled with venom. The elegant woman raised her head, and our eyes met. I froze. She looked like me—thirty years older, with green eyes instead of my blue. Yes, blue—the unmistakable blue of the Anderson family. "My child," she whispered, her voice trembling as tears filled her emerald gaze. "I've finally found you." Slowly, I stepped into the light, walking toward her. The men in black suits knelt in unison, their voices echoing in perfect sync. "Ms. Anderson." Ms. Anderson. The unfamiliar yet familiar title sent a chill through me. And then, I laughed. 'I get it now. I've been given another chance.' Another chance, on the day I was about to enter hell.