The Deadly Birthday Wish That Broke My Family

Mom rubbed her temples and offhandedly asked what I'd wished for.

"I wished for you to be happy, Mom," I said.

It wasn't exactly a lie. As long as I died, that wish would come true.

However, that one sentence made Mom lose it. She smashed the cake in my face and screamed, "I worked so hard to land this project presentation, and you just had to spike a fever right now!"

The commotion drew the other patients in the ward over.

"The kid's still sick. How can you treat him like that? Is this how a mother should act?"

I struggled to wipe the cream out of my eyes. "I'm sorry…"

I must've been really out of it from the fever. I forgot I wasn't supposed to call her Mom. I was supposed to call her Serena.

In the next second, a small figure threw himself into Mom's arms. "She's my mom, not his!"

It was my half-brother, Ashton Brown.

The people around us looked at each other. Their expressions turned awkward.

My stepfather, Logan Brown, walked over and said gently, "Calm down. Don't get yourself all worked up. It's not worth making yourself fall sick over this."

Mom hugged the two of them. Only then did the color slowly return to her face. Once she'd calmed down, the anger in her eyes faded back into the usual indifference when she looked at me.

"We're going home once you're done with this IV bag."

The nurse who came in felt my forehead, clearly disapproving. "His fever hasn't gone down yet. It'd be better if he stayed overnight for observation."

I quickly shook my head. "I-I feel fine now."

My body was still burning, and my head was heavy and foggy.

On the way home, Mom didn't look at me even once. The moment we stepped through the door, she shut herself in the bedroom. I could faintly hear her muffled sobs from inside.

Logan sighed and went to the kitchen to heat up a glass of milk.

I hurried to tuck in my arms and legs and pressed myself against the wall, trying to take up less space.

After thinking for a long time, I quietly picked up a small rag and slipped into the study. I took down the picture frame next to the computer and carefully wiped it clean, being as gentle as I could.

In the photo, Mom was still young. She smiled brightly as she cuddled up against my grandparents.

Suddenly, something slammed hard into my waist. My body was already weak, and my fingers loosened. The frame slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor.

Ashton clapped his hands and burst into delighted giggles. His face was full of glee at my misfortune.

"Mommy, Mommy! Hurry! The deadweight broke your picture!"

I crouched down in a panic, desperately trying to gather the broken pieces and fit them back together.

A shadow fell over my head. The next second, a heavy slap landed on the back of my skull. I instinctively threw my hands out to catch myself because I was so weak. My palms pressed straight into the shards of glass.

"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off today, Zero?"

I opened my mouth, wanting to say that Ashton had bumped into me. But I shut it again almost immediately.

The truth didn't matter. At some point, I'd suddenly understood that Ashton would never be at fault. But for me, even breathing was a sin.

"I just… wanted to help you clean up the dust and trash…" I just wanted Mom to be a little happier.

She let out a cold laugh. "Even a single scrap of paper in this house is more useful than you. You'd better remember who the real trash in this family is, Zero Camden."

Tears dripped onto the back of my hand. I hurried to wipe them away because those were worthless, too. Mom hated them.

"All you do is cry. What, do you feel bad for yourself? I'm the one you've ruined!

"If you hadn't started bawling your head off in the restroom when you were born, my classmates wouldn't have heard you and told the teacher… My parents wouldn't have gotten so worked up that they dropped dead of heart attacks!"

For a long time, I blamed myself, too. Why did I have to cry when I was born? Why did I have to get Grandma and Grandpa killed?

When my deskmate at school found out, he'd called me a big idiot. "All babies cry when they're born. If they don't cry, they die!"

That just made the fact that I'd cried all the more worse. Dying would've been so much better.