Swapped at Birth, I Brought Hell Home

I'm born evil. When I'm eight, my deskmate threatens to rat me out for copying his homework. So, I shove him down the stairs from the second floor, breaking three of his ribs. When I'm 12, the dorm matron confiscates the snacks in my locker. That night, I cut the brake line on her electric scooter. The following day, she goes careening down a hill and straight into a ditch. She ends up needing 17 stitches. I only reunite with my biological parents when I turn 18. Everyone in town talks about how the Brambles are famous philanthropists who will definitely reform a bad apple like me. Unbeknownst to them, on my very first night under their roof, Mom and Dad strap me to a surgical chair in the basement and draw bag after bag of blood from me to give a blood transfusion to Chloe Bramble, the woman they've raised for 18 years. I don't make a sound. During a shift change, I tamper with the prepared plasma bags, adding chili liquid before sealing them and putting them back in the refrigerator. The next day, as soon as Chloe receives the transfusion, she's sent straight to the ICU. Chapter 1 Mom and Dad couldn't take it anymore. That night, they hog-tied me and dumped me deep into the mountains. "This is the Village of the Damned. It's crawling with cold-blooded killers! An ungrateful brat like you won't last three days in there. The villagers will grind your bones to dust!" Mom rolled her eyes beside him. "You can come back when you've learned your lesson, admitted your mistake, and begged us to take you back to give Chloe more blood!" After being kicked out of the car, I took in the all-too-familiar gravel road and the smoke rising in the distance and almost burst into laughter. Had it never occurred to them to wonder where I'd learned to be evil in the first place? The moment I got out of the car, I took off running toward the village. The very next second, Dad kicked me in the lower back. I went flying, and my chin slammed into a rock. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Before I could roll over, he grabbed me by the back of my collar, hauled me up, and landed a punch on my left cheek. Half my face swelled up in an instant, and I couldn't even open my eye. "If you run into that village, you'll only die faster, you pathetic little bitch!" He pulled a nylon rope out of the car, bound my hands tight behind my back, and took a wad of filthy rags from his pocket and stuffed them into my mouth. Mom got out of the passenger seat and looked at my swollen, battered face. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "God, she's hideous. Is she really my daughter?" Just then, a figure slowly approached us with his black iron walking stick from a distance. I recognized him in an instant. He was Thomas Miller, the village chief, and the person who cherished me most in the world. Dad grabbed a fistful of my hair and jerked my head up, forcing me to look in that direction. "Do you see that limp of his?" He lowered his voice, and his tone sounded as though he were telling a ghost story. "Years ago, three businessmen from out of town came here to build a factory. Without uttering a single word, he snuck into their construction site in the middle of the night and took on all three of them alone. He beat every last one of them into a vegetative state. "He ended up with a shattered shinbone, and he's been limping ever since. Later, someone called the cops, but the officers who arrived were blocked at the village entrance and sent packing. Do you know why? Because everyone in the village claimed those three men had fallen and injured themselves." He let out a chuckle. "How many days do you think a young woman like you can survive in a place where even the law can't do a damn thing?" Lying on the ground, I listened as Thomas' footsteps drew closer. Back in the day, he could easily take on three men at once. None of them could even get close. He'd broken that leg a decade ago, when he'd piggybacked me, who was burning with a high fever, across the mountain in the dark to find a doctor. He'd missed his footing and fell, breaking his leg on the mountain path. Those businessmen, on the other hand, had planned to build a chemical plant with a discharge pipe leading directly into the river behind the village where the children swam. If Thomas hadn't stopped them, the village's drinking water would have been poisoned. However, I couldn't tell them the truth because the rag in my mouth pinned my tongue down. Mom went up to greet him with a smile. "Sir, our youngest has been a handful since she was a child. She steals, beats people up, and lies compulsively. We've reached our wits' end. So long as you don't kill her, feel free to discipline her however you see fit!" She pulled a thick wad of cash from her bag and held it out to him. But Thomas didn't accept it. He rested on his walking stick three paces away, his murky eyes sweeping over me. It was too dark for him to get a good look at me. My face was swollen beyond recognition, caked in mud and blood. He didn't recognize me. Hence, he asked coldly, "Is that all? I don't see much use for this young lady. Why don't you just knock her out and dump her in the river behind the mountain? That would save you the trouble." Mom's expression changed drastically, and she hurriedly stopped them. "No, she can't die! She has a rare blood type. Our eldest daughter isn't in good health, and she needs regular transfusions. This girl is our living blood bank. If she dies, where are we supposed to find another one?" Thomas cocked his brow and took another look at me. "She's a walking blood bank? In that case, that's going to cost you extra." Mom gritted her teeth and pulled another thick wad of cash from her bag. That was when she let go of my shoulder. Summoning the last of my strength, I sprang to my feet and slammed my head into the wad of cash in her hand. My only goal was to let Thomas get a clear look at my face. The bills burst apart, scattering through the air like a storm of money. Thomas' gaze landed on me, but Dad was one step faster. He drove his foot into my chest. It sent me flying backward. I crashed to the ground, the back of my head striking a rock. My vision flashed white for a split second. "Will you fucking behave yourself?" He lunged at me, pinned me beneath him, grabbed my index finger, and wrenched it backward. The very next second, a sickening pop rang out as my joint dislocated. My whole body shuddered, but the rag stuffed in my mouth muffled my groan. He didn't stop there. He moved on to my middle finger, ring finger, and pinky. After all ten of my fingers were dislocated, he tossed my hands aside, stood up, and wiped the sweat from his palms. "These hands are best at causing damage. I disabled them so she'll learn to behave." I curled up on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. The veins on my forehead bulged, but I didn't beg for mercy. I turned my head and stared long and hard at Thomas with the only eye I could still open. He stood a couple of steps away before saying, "Fine. I'll take her in." Chapter 2 Thomas picked me up and carried me toward the village. Mom hurried after us in her high heels. "Hold on, you can't put her in a house!" He stopped in his tracks. Mom covered her nose and pointed to a half-collapsed shed beside the road. It was pitch-black inside. It was where the villagers kept their free-roaming pigs. "Leave her there. There's no need to dirty your place. We'll be back later to draw her blood, so it'll be more convenient to keep her in the pigsty." Thomas glanced at her. Without saying a single word, he lugged me into the shed. The ground was covered in loose mud and manure, and two black pigs were grunting as they huddled in the corner. He set me down on a stone slab near the entrance, turned on his heel, and left. Mom seemed satisfied. "Perfect. This place is exactly where she belongs." The door was latched shut from the outside. Dad stood outside the pigsty and made a phone call. "Chloe, sweetheart, I've found you some blood. I'll have it sent back tomorrow." Chloe Bramble, the daughter my parents had raised, spoke in a wheedling voice. "What about that bitch? Did you get revenge for me, Dad? Did you make her cry?" "Oh, she cried alright. She got down on her knees and bawled her eyes out." He chuckled before hanging up the phone and nudging Mom with his elbow. He jerked his chin toward the entrance of the village. "Do you see that old woman?" A hunchbacked old woman sat on a stone block at the entrance to the village, stitching a sole onto a shoe. It was Margaret Fletcher. Mom lowered her voice and whispered something to Dad. Then, she crouched down beside the fence and got right in my face. "Do you see her? That old woman specializes in trafficking children. Kids from all the surrounding villages who fall into her hands get resold in a heartbeat. The boys are sold to coal mines, whereas the girls are sold to old bachelors deep in the mountains." Mom patted my cheek, smiling warmly. "A woman your age and appearance would fetch at most three to five thousand dollars as a bride for some bachelor in his 50s or 60s. So, you'd better behave yourself. At least our family still treats you like a human being. However, if you end up in her hands, you won't even be treated as well as a pig." I lowered my gaze and ignored her. Margaret had indeed taken in countless children. However, she hadn't trafficked them. All of those children were orphans, abandoned by their own parents. Some had been left on the roadside, while others were dumped at hospital entrances or stuffed into trash cans. Margaret had picked them up one by one, washed them clean, and raised them for a few days. Then, she went door-to-door, begging the better-off families in the village to adopt them. I was one of those children. Supposedly, I was found on New Year's Eve, wrapped in a tattered padded jacket and abandoned beside a snowdrift at the entrance to the village. Margaret had tucked me inside her own padded coat and held me close to keep me warm all night. I didn't even make a sound until the next day. From then on, the entire village raised me. Dad took one look at his wristwatch. "Come on. Let's go talk to that Miller guy about tomorrow's arrangements." Mom rose to her feet, dusting off her skirt. "Are we just going to leave her here on her own?" "Her hands are wrecked, and her mouth's gagged. Even if she crawls out, what can she possibly do?" Dad paused for a moment before continuing, "If she wanders off and bumps into anyone in this village, she'll only die an even worse death." The sound of their footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Silence settled over the pigsty again. I pressed my back against the wall and tried to grind the ropes binding my hands against a sharp edge of a stone. Before I could make much progress, I heard the sound of slippers shuffling across the ground outside. Margaret had wandered over at some point. She leaned against the fence and peered inside. "My, my, since when did we start keeping people in the pigsty?" She squinted, sizing me up. "Why does this young lady have a rag jammed in her mouth?" Margaret immediately reached in to pull it out. The moment her calloused fingers touched the corner of my lips, I almost burst into tears. "Margaret, it's me! I'm Quinn!" I yelled inwardly. Her fingers had just pinched an edge of the rag when a furious bellow rang out behind her. "Hold it right there!" Chapter 3 Mom stormed in and yanked Margaret's arm away. Then, she shoved the rag farther into my mouth. "This brat must be up to no good again!" She turned around and plastered a smile on her face. "Ma'am, she has a vicious tongue. Last time, she bit off one of a nurse's fingers. So, you'd better not touch her. We wouldn't want you to get hurt." Margaret withdrew her hand and sized Mom up. "Is this how you city folks discipline your kids? By stuffing them in a pigpen?" Mom's smile instantly stiffened. Dad pulled two grand out of his pocket and stuffed it into Margaret's hands. "Here, ma'am. Please accept this." He paused for a beat before adding, "We need you to hold her down while we draw some blood. If she struggles, pin her down as hard as you can." Margaret glanced at the cash before shifting her gaze toward me. "Alright then." She stuffed the cash into her pocket, crouched, and pinned my shoulders down with both hands. Mom pulled a syringe, a tourniquet, and a supply of empty blood collection tubes out of an insulated bag. The nurse was called over from the car. She squeezed into the pigsty, deftly tied the tourniquet around my arm, and tapped the crook of my elbow. The needle went in. One tube, two tubes, three tubes. Dad leaned against the fence, scrolling through his phone with the volume turned up. The phone was playing a video of his speech at a charity gala. "...As entrepreneurs, it is our responsibility to care for every vulnerable group..." Thunderous applause erupted from the audience. Four tubes, five tubes, six tubes. My lips were drained of all color. The nurse felt my pulse and hesitated. "Mrs. Bramble, any more than this and she'll go into shock." Mom didn't even look up. "She'll pull through. Patch up the needle mark when you're done. Don't get blood everywhere. It's disgusting." As the nurse began filling a seventh tube, everything went dark, and my whole body went limp. Margaret tightened her grip on my shoulders. I could feel her hands trembling. Once the nurse was done, Mom placed the blood collection tubes back into the insulated bag one by one and zipped it shut. Dad crouched down and patted my cheek. "There's another round tomorrow. If you behave, we'll only draw your blood once a month from now on. If you don't…" He didn't finish his threat, but the message was loud and clear. The two of them packed up their things and left. Margaret was the last to get to her feet. She stood beside the fence, looking down at me for a while before letting out a sigh. "Forgive me, young lady. I have more than a dozen kids in the village to feed. I really need the money." She pulled half a roasted sweet potato out of her pocket and shoved it through the gap in the fence. "Eat a little if you can. Don't starve yourself." Then, she turned on her heel and left. The pigsty fell utterly silent. Lying on the stone slab, I stared at the half piece of sweet potato wedged between the fence slats. Wisps of steam still rose from it. When I was a child, Margaret would bake a whole batch of sweet potatoes every winter and give one to every kid in the village. I always got an extra half. She told me it was because I was the youngest, that I had to eat up if I wanted to grow taller. After what felt like an eternity, I was certain the area was completely silent. I rolled over and pressed my back against the protruding edge of a stone in the corner. Then, I started sawing the rope against it. The stone scraped my skin raw, and blood trickled down my wrists. I bit down on the rag and didn't make a sound. I had no idea how long I'd kept at it when the rope finally snapped. I shook it off, turned sideways, and squeezed my way out beneath the pigsty fence. The moon wasn't visible, and the village was pitch-black. However, I knew the way by heart. Thomas' yard was just beyond that crooked tree. I dragged my feet forward, one step at a time. I was almost at the courtyard when a sinister voice suddenly sounded behind me. "I knew you were only pretending to behave. Now, I'll show you what happens when you misbehave!" Chapter 4 Dad yanked me up by the back of my collar, hauled me back to the pigsty, and hurled me to the ground. "How dare you fucking run again!" Mom charged over and planted her foot on my back, forcing my face into the muck. Thomas stood just a couple of paces away, leaning on his walking stick, watching coldly. Mom panted heavily before turning to him and forcing a smile. "Can you do us a favor and teach her a proper lesson, Thomas?" Before he could respond, the phone in her pocket rang. It was a video call from Chloe. Mom answered the call, and Chloe's face appeared on the screen. She was leaning against her headboard in a silk pajama set, a fruit platter beside her. "Mom, is that troublemaker acting up again?" "You bet she is! She took off a moment ago, but your father caught her." Chloe tilted her head and pouted. "There's no point in beating her up, Mom. People like her can't be beaten into submission. Besides, what if she escapes and calls the cops? You can't keep an eye on her 24/7, can you?" Mom froze for a moment. "What do you suggest we do then?" Chloe smiled, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Mom, think about it. Why do those women trafficked into the mountains eventually stop attempting to run away? It's because they have kids. "If my sister gets knocked up by someone in the village, where else could she possibly run? She'll stay in the village obediently and serve as my blood bank. Then, we can draw as much blood as we want. How convenient is that?" In a heartbeat, all the blood in my body rushed to my head. Mom's eyes lit up. "Darling, Chloe has a point!" Dad leaned over and caught the last few sentences. He abruptly smacked his thigh. "Right! Didn't the village chief mention that there's a guy at the east end of the village who was just released from prison? He served ten years and has two lives on his hands! "A man like that hasn't been with a woman in ten years. If we toss her to him, he could have his way with her tonight..." He took one look at me and smirked. "We'll be killing two birds with one stone!" I bit down hard on the rag. I was well aware of who Mom and Dad were referring to. It was Caspian Brown. When I was eight years old, two drunk men from the neighboring village had held a knife to my throat and demanded money. Caspian had charged at them and brought one of the men down with a single slash of his knife. The other man had retaliated, slashing Caspian from the corner of his mouth all the way to his ear. Caspian hadn't even bothered to wipe the blood away. He'd simply struck back with another slash. Caspian had taken two lives and was sentenced to ten years in prison. On the day he was taken away, the entire village turned out to see him off. I chased the prison transport vehicle for over a mile before Thomas finally caught up with me at a fork in the road and carried me back. After that, every year on my birthday, I would receive a letter from him. It always contained one single sentence. "I miss you, Quinn." Three days ago, he'd finally completed his sentence and been released. Dad dragged me toward the east end of the village by the back of my collar. When we reached Caspian's corrugated-metal shack, he pounded on the door. "Open up! I've brought you something good!" The door swung open, and a man's silhouette filled the doorway. Dad slapped a wad of cash against the doorframe. "This is my disobedient daughter. She's yours now; just make sure you don't kill her." Without uttering a single word, Caspian accepted the cash. Mom inched closer to the door, crouched down, and clamped her fingers around my chin. "This is what happens when you refuse to behave. Let's see who's going to save you this time!" she jeered. The door closed from outside, and darkness swallowed me whole. I heard his footsteps drawing closer. Then, he stopped right in front of me. The very next second, his hand clamped around my throat. He lifted me off the ground and pinned me against the corrugated-metal wall. My back hit the freezing metal, and my toes left the ground. For a moment, I couldn't even breathe. With his other hand, he yanked the rag out of my mouth. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse whimper. Caspian closed the distance between us until I could feel his breath against my face. Then, he stiffened. He instantly released his grip on my throat, and his voice trembled as he called out, "...Quinn?"