Fatal Family Ties

My breathing grew shallow and rapid as a wave of suffocation washed over me.

The three of them just stood there, watching me with cold indifference. I managed to push myself up and started toward the bedroom to get my allergy medicine.

But Katrina stepped right into my path.

"Chelsea, where do you think you're going? You haven't even finished the mango!"

She tried to force the remaining mango into my mouth.

I shoved her back hard. She'd always been coddled, while I'd spent years doing heavy farm work back in the countryside. Thus, she didn't stand a chance against me.

Katrina stumbled backward, the mango slipping from her hand and hitting the floor. Then, she turned to our parents and said pitifully, "Chelsea hit me."

My father, David Coffey, strode over and kicked me to the ground.

"You ungrateful little brat. How dare you lay a hand on Katrina?"

I lay there gasping, my breathing growing more labored by the second. With tremendous effort, I forced the words out.

"Give me my allergy medicine. I'm going to die."

Mom pulled Katrina protectively into her arms and shot me a look of pure disgust.

"You can drop the act. I've never heard of anyone dying from eating mangoes."

Katrina, still nestled against our mother, glanced at me and said with feigned innocence, "Chelsea, I bought this mango especially for you. You mustn't let it go to waste."

At that, Dad bent down and picked up the mango from the floor. Then, he forced it down my throat.

I closed my eyes in despair. Was this the family love I'd always longed for?

Katrina and I were twins.

But right after we were born, Mom left me—the stronger one—in the countryside to be raised by Grandma. The reason was that Mom couldn't take care of two babies at once.

Grandma was too old to take good care of me, so I was always dirty and looked like a wild child. The other kids in the countryside often mocked me, saying my parents had abandoned me.

From that day on, I dreamed of living with Mom and Dad.

They only came back for a few days during Christmas.

Katrina, who had grown up by their side, looked like a little princess in her cashmere coat and stylish little leather boots.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in an old, worn-out cotton jacket that barely fit and did nothing to keep me warm. Standing next to Katrina, I felt like I looked no better than a beggar.

When I was seven years old, I finally gathered the courage to ask Mom and Dad if I could go live with them in the city.

Mom looked me up and down with disdain. "You look like a total country bumpkin. If anyone found out you were my child, I'd be a laughingstock."

Dad shook his head firmly. "Do you have any idea how expensive it is to go to school in the city? Besides, I still have to pay for Katrina's dance and piano lessons. If you go, we'll have nothing to live on!"

I burst into tears and buried my face in Grandma's arms. Later, she gave them a thorough scolding. Only then did they promise that once their financial situation improved in a few years, they'd bring me to the city.

I held onto that promise, waiting year after year. It wasn't until I graduated from middle school and got into a high school in the city that they had no choice but to finally take me in.