Chapter 1

My sister had what she called a touch-starvation disorder.

Every time I brought a boyfriend home, she had an “episode.”

If I got up in the middle of the night, she would crawl into his bed and cling to him. If he was taking a shower, she would slip into the bathroom and try to touch him.

Whenever I caught her, she would cry and say she could not help it. My boyfriend, apparently, was her cure.

That was how Vanessa stole one boyfriend after another.

But when I came home alone, she never had an episode.

In my last life, I asked if she was doing it on purpose. She sobbed and threatened to jump from the balcony to prove her innocence.

My parents and relatives all took her side.

“It’s just a man. If your sister needs him, let her have him.”

“She’s sick. Be more understanding. Do you really want to push her to her death?”

Later, I only dared to bring my fiance home for dinner the night before our engagement party. I planned to eat and leave.

Vanessa had another episode anyway.

She smashed a bowl, cut open my neck with the broken edge, then threw herself into my fiance’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “Claire, I really can’t control myself.”

I was lying in a pool of blood. My parents were still saying, “Your sister is having an episode. Once she calms down, we’ll take you to the hospital.”

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Vanessa’s “illness” began.

So I announced, right then and there, that the whole family should spend Labor Day weekend at my boyfriend’s mountain lodge in Aspen.

This time, I wanted to see if Vanessa’s illness could be cured by a man who was not mine.

...

When I realized I had been reborn, I was holding Adrian’s hand, about to head upstairs for bed.

Vanessa was staring straight at his face.

Adrian leaned closer and whispered, “Why is your sister staring at me like that? It’s creepy.”

He had said the same thing in my last life.

Back then, I teased him for being full of himself. That same night, Vanessa walked naked into the bathroom while he was showering.

Adrian had always been mildly autistic. The shock triggered a breakdown. The next day, his family sent him to a treatment center in Switzerland. I never saw him again.

After that, whenever I brought a boyfriend home, Vanessa repeated the same act.

She would sneak into his bed when I went to the bathroom. Or she would corner him while he was showering.

Every boyfriend I had was either scared off or stolen.

After each time, she cried and said she had not meant to do it. She was sick. She had lost control.

My parents said, “Your sister didn’t mean it. He’s just a man. Is he more important than your own sister?”

My relatives said, “Vanessa is pitiful. You’re the younger one. Be generous.”

Everyone told me to make room for Vanessa’s illness.

So she got bolder.

In the end, she used one of her episodes to smash a bowl, cut my throat, and lunge at my fiance.

I begged them to take me to the hospital.

My parents snapped, “Stop making trouble. Can’t you see your sister is unwell?”

I bled out while they comforted her.

Now, after hearing Adrian’s whisper, I turned to Vanessa.

She seemed surprised I had looked back. Then she smiled sweetly.

“It’s late,” she said. “You two should go to bed.”

She did not look sick at all.

Back in the room, Adrian went to shower.

Sure enough, just like in my last life, the bathroom doorknob began to turn.