All Chapters of Mom’s Bias: She Chose My Sister Over Me: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

Moments before my death, my soul drifted toward my mother. My mother was right beside my sister, worry etched on her face. She prayed, "Leila, you'll be alright. You'll be alright. Please wake up.""I can't believe Sheila didn't even keep an eye on her. She had one job!" My father was furious. "That heartless girl! I'm going to kill her!"I watched the whole thing unfold, my heart—if souls had heart—filled with bitterness. No, my father didn't have to do anything. I was dead. Their apathy killed me.The hospital's doctors surrounded Leila Greenhorn's bed. They made sure she was fine besides a few scratched bones, and an older doctor said carefully, "Are you sure we can ignore Sheila, ma'am? The car crash hit her hard, too."My mother's concern turned into disgust. She roared, "What is she up to this time? Faking her death again? Does she even have any idea how much she's hurt her sister?"I stared at my mother, and pain stabbed my cold, dead heart. I was her daughter, too, yet she

A few days later, Leila was discharged, all thanks to her family's meticulous care. My mother was helping her pack things up, while my father was already waiting outside the hospital in his car. He didn't want her to walk even one step more than necessary. Harold even helped her put on her shoes. He didn't want her tiring herself out.On their way back, my mother grumbled, "I can't believe Sheila didn't even show up. Her own sister is getting discharged. And she didn't even apologize! I'm going to give her a piece of my mind when we get home!"My father looked at her. "Told you keeping her around would be bad for us."My mother wanted to give me a piece of her mind? Honestly, that brought back a lot of memories. Since we were kids, my mother had always expected me to bend over backwards for Leila. That girl was her golden child.The reason? She was born early, and it was my fault, apparently, since I knocked over a glass of water and my mother slipped and fell. Leila had to be put

My mother was shaken, and she froze. She combed through her memories, reliving the car crash. A frown creased her forehead, and she confidently answered, "Impossible. Leila was in the same car. If Leila's fine, why isn't she? It couldn't have hurt that badly."I know this is another trick of hers. She's trying to steal my attention away from Leila. I told you to stop playing along with her, or you're both getting it!"My mother's refusal to believe the truth exasperated the nurse. She sighed. "I'm not lying, ma'am. Just make a trip to the morgue and see for yourself."That made my mother nervous. She paced around her room, her steps heavy yet flustered. "I can't believe you bitches are trying to fool me. How dare you!"My mother hung up before the nurse could say anything. My father, perhaps sensing my mother's fury, opened the door. "I could hear you shout. Zacharias is still around, you know."My mother crossed her arms and gripped her phone tightly. Helpless, she looked at her

A few days later, my mother held an… acceptable funeral. Besides friends and family, the doctors at my mother's hospital showed up as well. I saw the nurse who helped me among the crowd.She came up to my grave, holding a bouquet. "I'm sorry. If I were a bit braver, maybe you would've lived."She was the only one among all these people who even tried to help me, and she was also the only one who apologized. My mother, however, didn't even feel the least bit apologetic.She was mocking me. Insulting me. As if that would ease her sins. "She's always been the naughty brat. She tried to kill her sister because she couldn't let go of the past, and that got her killed instead."Everyone knew my mother loved my sister more than she loved me, and they knew how much I'd suffered, but they didn't want to get in trouble. Instead, they consoled my mother. They did not mean it, of course.But then, police sirens blared, and a group of cops came barging through the throng. They stopped in front

The soul of my killer was destroyed, and that, to me, was another form of justice. My mother was suffering. Her failures were tormenting her. One moment, she would cry, and the other, she would laugh.Sometimes something would drive her insane, and sometimes she would hit anyone in her line of sight. Sometimes that person would be herself. Every time that happened, it would take more than a couple of cops to pin her down.They had to call in a doctor from the asylum. My mother was diagnosed with a trauma-induced mental illness, and she was taken to the asylum.She got worse. Every time she saw someone, she would say, "I have a daughter. Her name's Sheila, and she's a postgrad student at a world-famous university. She's studying abroad. You can meet her when she comes back. Oh, she's a sweet and beautiful girl."Sometimes she would snap out of her madness, and every time she did, she would sit on her bed and look out the window. Maybe it was because of the bond we had, I could feel