Death by Allergy: My Family's Meltdown Came Too Late

My breathing suddenly turned ragged, suffocation crashing over me like a tidal wave.

My family looked as cold as ever. I swayed as I forced myself to stand, planning to go inside and get my allergy medicine.

My twin, Felix Carter, stepped in front of me and blocked my way. "Flynn, where are you going? You haven't finished the kiwi yet."

He tried to shove the remaining flesh into my mouth. I struggled and pushed him away.

Felix had been pampered since childhood and never had much strength. I, on the other hand, grew up in the countryside doing farm work. Naturally, he wasn't a match for me.

He stumbled a few steps back. The kiwi fell from his hand and rolled onto the floor. With a pitiful look, he turned to our parents as if lodging a justified complaint. "Flynn hit me."

Dad strode over and knocked me down with a kick. "You stupid, uncultured bumpkin! How dare you treat your brother like that?"

I lay on the ground, my breathing growing faster and harsher. My throat tightened as I forced out a few broken words, "Medicine… Give me… the allergy medicine… or I'll die…"

Mom pulled Felix into her arms protectively and shot me a look of pure disgust. "Quit the act! I've never heard of anyone dying from eating kiwi fruits!"

Leaning against her, Felix looked at me and fueled the fire. "Flynn, I bought these kiwis especially for you. You can't let them go to waste."

Dad picked up the kiwi from the floor and forced it into my mouth. I closed my eyes in despair. Was this the familiar warmth I had longed for all this time?

Felix and I were twins. After we were born, Mom couldn't manage two babies at once. Since I was the stronger one, she left me in the countryside to live with my grandmother.

Grandma was old. There were many things she simply didn't have the capacity to do. I was always dirty, running around like a wild kid. The children around me often laughed and said my parents had abandoned me.

From that time on, I longed desperately to live with my parents.

They only came back during the winter holidays, staying for a few days at most. Felix, who had grown up by their side, looked like a pampered prince. He wore clean, beautiful clothes and carried expensive toy cars.

As for me, I was always wrapped in an old cotton jacket that didn't fit and barely kept me warm. The only thing I ever played with was mud, messing around with the other rural kids.

When I was seven years old, I finally gathered the courage to tell my parents that I wanted to live in the city with them. Mom looked at me with open disdain.

"Just look at you. You look like some country bumpkin," she remarked. "If people found out you were my child, they'd laugh at me to death."

Dad wasn't pleased either. "Do you have any idea how expensive it is to study in the city? Your brother still has art class and piano lessons. If you come along, what are we supposed to live on?"

After hearing that, I burst into tears and threw myself into Grandma's arms. Later, she scolded my parents harshly. Only then did they promise repeatedly to bring me to the city once their financial situation improved.

I held on to that promise year after year. It wasn't until I finished middle school and got accepted into a high school in the city that they finally had no choice but to let me move in with them.