Chapter 3

However, I was her real daughter. So why, on my birthday, couldn’t she even give me a kind look? Why did she throw away the cake Grandma bought for me and feed it to stray dogs instead of letting me have a bite?

Just because I was Dad’s daughter, she decided I didn’t deserve anything. I didn’t deserve a birthday. I didn’t deserve cake. I didn’t even deserve something as basic as feeling happy or sad. Whenever I failed to meet her expectations, she would grab that iron rod and beat me until I was covered in injuries, only stopping when something broke. In my short ten years of life, seven of them were spent like this.

…

When Becca woke up, she saw everything Mom had prepared overnight and lit up with excitement. She rushed into Mom’s arms, clinging to her and whining sweetly, asking her to make a wish and blow out the candles together. Mom smiled and agreed. After the wish was made, she said she had a special gift for her.

My eyes widened. I watched, frozen, as she took out the locket, the one I had risked my life to protect.

How did it end up with Mom? Wasn’t it stolen yesterday by that stranger?

The next second, Becca’s eyes sparkled. She grabbed the locket and kissed Mom on the cheek.

“Thank you, Mom! All I did was mention that I liked Daisy’s lock, and you got it for me. You’re the best!”

Mom gently stroked her hair, a fond smile on her face.

“Of course, I’m the best. I’m your mother. Who else would I do this for?”

Only then did I understand that the man yesterday, the one who ambushed me on my way home from school, took my locket, and beat me until I could barely breathe, was sent by Mom.

I thought back to the day Becca first came to our house. The moment she saw the locket around my neck, she reached out to grab it without even asking.

Instinctively, I dodged. When she missed and fell to the ground, Mom immediately rushed over with concern, helping her up and holding her, comforting her for the longest time. Yet, when it came to me, she didn’t listen to a single word of my explanation. Instead, she swung that thick iron rod at the back of my knees, forcing me to kneel and apologize to Becca.

Through my tears, I told her I could give Becca anything except the locket. That locket was proof that my parents once loved me. It was the only thing keeping me alive and the last source of comfort I had in this world.

Mom sneered. “From this day on, everything you have belongs to Daisy. She’s my daughter now. You’re just her little servant. If you upset her again, just see what I’ll do to you.”

My eyes met Becca’s, where she stood behind Mom’s protection. The mocking look in her eyes made me want to disappear, but still, I nodded.

Mom, I listened to you and became the servant you wanted, so why couldn’t I earn even a little bit of your love? Even my death was caused by your hands.

I watched as Becca happily put on the locket that once belonged to me. By then, my tears had almost run dry. For the first time in my life, I kept asking the same question, over and over: if she never loved me, why did she give birth to me? Why bring me into this world just to suffer?

Alas, she couldn’t hear me, and even if she could hear me, she probably wouldn’t answer.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering that when Mom realized I had died alone while she was happily celebrating her adopted daughter’s birthday, what would be her expression? Would she feel sad? Would she feel guilty, or would she remain just as indifferent as before?

Over the next two days, as soon as Mom got off work, she rushed home to be with Becca. The princess dresses I wouldn’t even dare to dream of? She bought them for Becca. The parent-teacher meetings I had begged her to attend countless times? Becca only had to mention it once, and Mom showed up right on time. Even something as small as riding a Ferris wheel, Mom forced herself to go up with her without a second thought, despite her fear of heights.