Plot Twists Short Stories & Bias Biological Family Novels

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung, and I couldn't tell whether it was from the steam or something else. I stood there without moving and gritted my teeth. "But you said I wouldn't have to wait on the day of my exam..." The pounding grew louder. Mom's voice came through the door, edged with impatience. "Let your brother go first. You can wait a little longer!" My hair was still covered in foam, and I'd barely managed to pull my sweat-soaked clothes back on when Mom dragged me out. My brother smiled at me. It was the kind of smile that seemed to say sorry, but there was far more triumph than apology in it. He said he wouldn't take long. His version of "not long" was eighty minutes. By then, my sweat-soaked clothes had dried completely, and the foam in my hair had dried up. After my brother came my sister. After Mom came Dad. The temperature on the water heater dropped from 113°F to 32°F. That was the moment I decided I was done waiting.

After the college entrance exam, my mom gave my twin sister an LV bag as a coming-of-age gift. What she handed me was the exam pass I had lost on test day. "Paige, sweetie, I found your exam pass last night. It was under the couch. I know you couldn't take the college entrance exam this year, but don't let it get to you. Keep this as a little reminder to be more careful when you retake them next year." The exam pass gave off a faint scent. It was the kind that only came from the sachets hanging in my mom's closet. When I did not reach for it, she said, "Why won't you take it? Don't worry. Once you retake the exams next year and get into a good school, I'll buy you a bag too." I let out a dry laugh. Retake the exams? What my mom did not know was that I had already received a guaranteed spot at Glenmore University. I had only planned to sit for the exam because I was afraid my sister would fall apart if she found out, and I wanted to go through the motions with her. If she had hidden my exam pass to destroy my future, then this so-called family bond was not something I wanted to hold on to anymore.

After graduating from high school, my twin sister, Ella, and I were both accepted to Newland University. My parents put eighty thousand dollars in Ella's college fund and gave her a three-thousand-dollar monthly allowance, but put only eight thousand in mine and gave me three hundred a month. They took it for granted that I would move to Newland to look after her. The day the whole family threw a graduation party for my sister, I boarded a flight to the West Coast with a single suitcase and a full scholarship to one of the country's top engineering schools. What they didn't know was that the reporter who showed up that afternoon to interview "the outstanding Ashford graduate" had never been looking for my sister. The person they wanted was me, the daughter they'd already pushed out the door.

My parents, Leander and Valentina Rhodes, were cutthroat capitalists through and through, bringing the company’s toxic corporate culture right into our home. Eating a serving of pork ribs meant a performance deduction. Using the washing machine required paying a depreciation fee. Just to survive, I spent day and night coding and developing software. Finally, a photo-editing app I developed completely on my own went viral, earning my parents’ company $7 million. At the celebration dinner, my eldest sister, Sienna Rhodes, who managed HR, received a $70,000 bonus. My youngest sister, Delphine Rhodes, who worked in business development, walked away with a brand-new Porsche. Meanwhile, my paycheck showed nothing more than my unchanging $600 base salary. “Sienna hired two cleaners for the company. That’s called building talent pipeline infrastructure—she deserves a reward!” “Delphine took a client out for a steak dinner and secured the distribution deal. That’s expanding our territory—she deserves a massive bonus!” Finally, my parents shoved a supermarket gift card into my hand. “As for you, Evangeline, all you do is sit at your desk, tapping away on a keyboard in the air conditioning. There’s really nothing to reward.” “Still, Sienna and Delphine spoke up on your behalf, so take this gift card.” Ever since we were kids, Sienna was the family decision-maker; everything she said was taken seriously. Delphine was the baby of the family, showered with love—even when she made a mistake, it was always someone else’s fault. As for me, stuck in the middle, it felt like I was born to be forgotten. Even though I was supposed to be the star of this celebration dinner, no one remembered. No one cared. Watching the four of them laughing and enjoying their happy family moment, I silently put down the gift card. Then, I opened a text message from a rival tech giant offering me an $8 million annual salary package.

Ten years after I'm abducted, I'm finally rescued and brought home. From that day on, Mom and Dad make me the center of their world. They even burn through their savings and move to another city for me. But those ten years leave me with severe depression. One day, I take a razor blade to my wrist. Dad grabs the blade with his bare hand. "If you die, what are your mom and I supposed to do?" All that attention soon starts to suffocate me. Eventually, I snap and smash up all the furniture in the house. Even then, Mom just pulls me into her arms and comforts me over and over. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's all over now." Then my younger adopted sister, Nancy Bonner, asks one simple question. "Is Jenny ever going back to where she lived before?" That's all it takes. Dad drags her out of her chair and starts beating her. However, that day Nancy comes down with a fever and has to go to the hospital, all I do is say I'm afraid of the dark. Mom whips around and stares at me in disbelief. "How can you be so selfish? I wish I'd never had you." Dad shoves me toward the door. "You're afraid of the dark? It's not even dark outside. Why didn't you just die out there? We already give you all our attention, and somehow it's still not enough. You're heartless. You're no daughter of mine!" Mom holds Nancy tight and hurries out the door with Dad. Just before they leave, Nancy looks back at me and mouths, "Mom's mine." Then they leave me alone in the dark. I pick up the razor blade from the floor and use every ounce of strength I have to crawl to my bedroom.

While on a car trip, our car is struck by falling rocks and breaks down on a remote mountain road. My sister, Renee Olsen, is terrified. We wait three hours before a passing vehicle finally comes. The driver rolls down the window. "I can only fit three people in my car. How many of you are there?" My mom, Penny Ziegler, lets out a relieved sigh and smiles. "Great, there are three of us." My dad, Leonard Olsen, immediately shifts slightly to the side, completely blocking me from view as I cower in the back seat. They get into the car with Renee and leave. Ten minutes later, Mom sends me a message. "Renee is in shock. We're bringing her to the hospital for a check-up first. You stay right there with the car and wait for us to pick you up." I glance at my leg that is bleeding from cuts caused by shattered glass and reply, "Okay." I wait from day into night until my phone battery dies, yet my parents never return. They never pick up my calls or reply to my messages. A team conducting geological surveys nearby discovers me, barely conscious. They arrange for a tow truck and rush me to the hospital, as I'm burning up with a fever. The doctor frowns when he sees my leg. "Why did you wait until now to come in? Young lady, your wound is infected. You need surgery to debride it. Where is your family? Get them here quickly to sign it." I slowly unclench my stiff fingers and take the surgical consent form. Calmly, I pick up the pen and sign my name. "I can sign it myself. They've already forgotten about me."

I, Addie Starr, am the second child my parents have after an unexpected pregnancy. My older sister, Amanda Starr, cries because she believes that I will take away our parents' love and money. After she develops depression, she constantly threatens to kill herself. My parents come to hate me for it. They swear to Amanda, "Sweetheart, you're the only princess in our family. Just think of your sister as a maid we brought to you." From then on, all the dirty and exhausting chores in the house become my responsibility. When Amanda becomes emotionally unstable and threatens to cut her wrists, my parents hold out my arm for her. They say, "Sweetheart, if you need to take your anger out on someone, just cut her here." On the highway as we drive home for the New Year, Amanda's plushie falls out the window. Mom orders me to get out and retrieve it. Amid the speeding traffic, I grab the plushie, but all I see is a cloud of exhaust fumes. I remember the hateful looks in my parents' eyes as they tell me, "You should never have been born, understand? You almost destroyed this family!" So, when an out-of-control truck comes barreling toward me... I don't move.

On Thanksgiving, after I got off work, my younger brother, Nate Anderson, left an update in our family group chat about having moved to a different address. I had to take five different public transport connections before I finally reached the location he had sent me. However, when I arrived, I found that I was in a deserted area. Nate sounded smug over the phone. “Got you! My prank was successful! The last bus has left. What’re you going to do now?” I was dumbfounded, but my parents were laughing. “Why did you believe such an obvious lie? Who did you inherit your dumbness from?” “We’re having our Thanksgiving dinner soon. You can walk home.” My girlfriend, Gwen Smith, was chuckling. She said mockingly, “Oliver, you should come back on your own, just like your parents said. “It’s not the first time you’re getting pranked like this. Don’t be a sore loser!” After that, she hung up on me. In the past, I would have called them and begged them to pick me up. However, this time, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion as I gazed at the distant city lights. Nate loved to play pranks on me, and my entire family enabled him to do so. Two years ago, he put peach fuzz into my drink, and I suffered an asthma attack because of it. Last year, he swapped my shampoo with a hair removal gel, and I failed an interview because of it. My entire family knew that I was terrified of the dark, but they conspired with him and lured me to a deserted area. They were betting on when I would call them and beg for their mercy at the dinner table. I did not cry or beg. In the dark, I walked in the opposite direction from where my home was. I was going to put an end to these pranks.

After I started college, my mother announced that she would be giving me my living expenses in installments. "Hank, you're grown up now. To teach you how to manage your money, I've decided to give you your living expenses in installments." At first, I assumed she meant she would send my allowance once a month. At worst, maybe once a week. But on the day I checked in, she walked around the cafeteria, then transferred $6.80 to my bank account. I stared at her in confusion. "Mom, you sent the wrong amount." She shook her head with a smile. "Silly boy, that's your lunch money for today. I already picked out the cheapest meal for you. Just get the set lunch from that place. From now on, you can apply to me for the cost of each meal based on this amount." I was completely stunned. So when she said "installments," she did not mean monthly or even weekly. She meant every single meal. But by the third day, I was standing at the breakfast counter, struggling to come up with the $1.50 I needed for an egg. When I asked my mother for money, she refused. Instead, she simply said, "I paid for your brother's house in full yesterday. I don't have any extra cash on hand right now. Missing one meal won't kill you, will it?" The cafeteria lady looked at me with surprise and pity. That look burned a hole straight through my already fragile pride. That day, I held the egg the lady had given me and searched for a part-time job. Yet, when I no longer needed my mother, she was the one who panicked.

When I was fifteen, my father brought home the daughter of the man who had once saved his life. He told me, "Stella, Hazel is your sister now. You need to be more understanding with her." From that day on, everything I had became something my father could freely give to Hazel. I cried and asked him if he no longer loved me. But he stroked my head and reassured me, "I am only doing this to repay a debt. Don't worry. I'll leave all my assets and the company to you." It was not until I graduated from college that I happened to overhear Hazel sweet-talking my father. "Dad, I like Julian. Could you get Stella to break off her engagement with him and let me have him? "Besides, Stella didn't study business management in college. Why don't you let me join the company and help out? I could take some of the burden off your shoulders." I clenched my fists, anger churning in my chest. For all these years, I had given in to her again and again. And now she wanted to take not only my fiance, but my inheritance as well?

Mom raises me and my brother, Cameron Joyner, by herself after she gets a divorce. Cameron was born with congenital asthma and has to take medication every day. Although I'm healthier, Mom treats me better than Cameron. She always says, "You're the apple of my eye, Cassie. I don't want you to feel troubled because of Cam." From the very beginning of my life, I've always been number one in Mom's heart. However, the year I turn 15, Cameron suddenly disappears. Mom completely changes after he goes missing.

I have a congenital heart defect, and the doctors say I won't make it past 18. When I am ten, my parents bring home a blind child, saying she is my twin sister, Everly Wallace. My family spoils me rotten, but they treat Everly like a ghost. Everyone says Everly exists only to give me her heart. I try so hard to be good to this sister who shares my face, desperate to ease my guilt. When I reach 18, I lie on the operating table. Except they don't take my heart. They take my corneas. I die after that, while Everly finally sees the light.

After the SAT, the five of us childhood friends got together and played a game to test how well we knew each other. In the first round, my best friend, Millie Thyme, asked, “If one of us was stranded in the countryside in the middle of the night, who would you rescue first?” The three boys, all of whom others had teased to be my future husbands since we were kids, wrote her name without hesitation. Someone joked that they had read each other’s minds. Millie’s face turned red as she explained, “Maybe because I’m the biggest scaredy-cat. Hailey is so capable. She wouldn’t need anyone to rescue her.” They all nodded in agreement. However, they had forgotten that when I was stranded in the mountains at 16, they were the ones who braved a torrential downpour to find me, then fought over who would carry me down the mountain. Back then, they told me, “No matter what happens, we’ll always choose you first.” In the second round, it was my turn to ask a question. I looked at them and smiled as I read the card aloud, “If only four of the five of us could go to college together, who would you leave behind?” The room instantly went quiet. Millie bit her lip and was the first to flip over her answer board. Her own name was written on it. However, when the other three boards were revealed, every single one had my name on it. Marcus Hayes, the one who had always cared about me the most, said first, “It’s just a game. You won't actually take this seriously, will you?” Ryan quickly chimed in, “Millie isn’t in the best of health. She can’t handle going to some unfamiliar city by herself.” Julian gently ruffled my hair, his voice as warm as ever. “You’re applying to a college here anyway, so you'd be coming home every day anyway. It’s not like we’d actually be leaving you behind.” I stared at the four answer boards and suddenly smiled. What they did not know was that I never even applied to the local college they thought I would be attending…

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At that very moment, my sister posted photos on her social media of a first-class ticket to Iceland. It hit me then. Two identical cards, and only hers had ever held real money. For six straight years, my parents had played a worthless card to string me along — buying my youth, my obedience, my very self. If they couldn't keep things from tipping over, then I'd tear it all down myself. With my own two hands.

My family is the most harmonious one around because we're a blended family. Both my parents treat their children and stepchildren "equally". When money goes missing at home, my mother, Jessica Evans, always slaps me without even thinking of suspecting my older sister, Susan Chase. After meals, my father, Damian Chase, allows my older brother, James Chase, to rest. However, he threatens to take away my meal privileges if I don't wash the dishes. Even after they get into arguments, I always end up the sole outlet for their frustrations. Unsurprisingly, my mental state deteriorates. When Mom discovers the scarring on my arms, she looks at me with disgust. "You're too young to be acting depressed," she tells me. So, amid juggling most of the household chores and enduring the most verbal abuse, I slit my wrists one night. As a result, my parents finally stop being biased. For the first time in over a decade, I have my own room, even if it's just a study spanning several dozen square feet. I am also no longer invisible in their eyes, and I am actually allowed some privacy—at least, until James and Susan get into a huge argument. When I come home, my room has been converted back into a study. My belongings are piled up like trash in the living room. Mom informs me calmly, "James and Susan's rooms are too close, so his gaming sessions have been affecting her sleep. Be sensible. We've played along with your suicidal antics for long enough, so stop making things difficult for us." This time, I don't make a huge fuss like before. It's because I can no longer hear anything around me, and I no longer want anything either.

In my first year out of college, my mother sues me over the 60 dollars a month I give her for living expenses. In court, she breaks down in tears. "She only gives me 60 dollars a month! And she makes me check in every single day before she'll hand over that day's money! "I raised her and her brother all on my own. I gave everything I had to put her through college. How can she do this to me?" Her lawyer submits printed copies of our text conversations as proof. The judge frowns as he reads through them, then passes them to me. "Defendant, are these messages authentic?" I nod calmly. "They are." The gallery erupts in whispers, people calling me ungrateful and a terrible daughter. Then, the judge bangs his gavel and orders silence. I look at my mother's smug expression and submit my own evidence. The judge's frown deepens as he reviews it. And the moment my mother sees it, the color drains from her face.

When my SAT results come in, I'm stunned to see a score of just 550, even though I've always been one of the top students in my class. For the first time, my parents pull me into a hug and gently reassure me. "It's okay. We'll pay for you to retake the SAT next time." Tears well up in my eyes as I promise them, "I'll get into a good college next time. I won't let you down." They prepare a lavish dinner, then send me off to bed with smiles. Late that night, I hear laughter coming from my parents' room. A beat later, I hear the voice of my little sister, Olivia Clark, drifting through the crack in the door. "Mom, Dad, you're amazing! I'll be headed to a top college soon!"

My family always used me as an example to teach Yvette Langley, my twin sister, a lesson. When we were little, my mom would purposely leave me alone on the street. She would let Yvette watch me break down in tears so she would learn never to wander off. My brother, Martin Langley, would get kids from outside school to corner me in an alley. He wanted Yvette to see me get slapped and forced to my knees so she would learn to stay away from troublemakers. So I became more and more timid, and they grew to like me less and less. Then, the day before the SAT, my mom gave me an order I could not refuse. “Tomorrow, you’re going to turn in a blank SAT.” I stared at her in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I asked, “Why?” Martin sat beside her and spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Once you fail the SAT and have to struggle because you can’t get into college, Yvette will learn to appreciate her chance to go to college. She’ll work harder and become a better student. “We need you to push her forward.” They talked about sacrificing my future as if it were nothing. My heart sank. I had held everything inside for nineteen years. That last thread finally snapped. All I felt was heartbreak. That was when I finally decided to leave my family behind, the family that had always sacrificed me for Yvette.

I was the real daughter of the Jenkins family, recently brought home, while Coco, the fake, unexpectedly procured the College Entrance Exam Leech System. All she had to do was give a name, and the person's score would be transferred to her exam sheet. She was overjoyed when she mistook me for the star student who had been the top scorer in the city's high school for three years, and quickly put my name in. Then, in the three months leading up to the college entrance exam, she would be watching Youtube videos in class, getting her nails done after school, all while bragging she could get over 700—even with her eyes closed. I warned her that college entrance exams were no joke, but her boyfriend leapt to her defense, snapping at me, "Coco is a genius! What would a bumpkin like you know?!" Our parents were playing favorites as ever, yelling at me too. "Don't get jealous! Coco is a born genius!" They had no idea that there was another Jojo Jenkins at the school, and a boy at that. He was also given guaranteed admission to a prestigious university without needing to take college entrance exam, while I was just an art student who was addicted to drawing. On the day the results were published, Coco even invited the media on her livestream as she checked her score, ready to set her reputation as a young prodigy. I watched her smiling smugly, quietly putting away my arts school admission notice. She liked stealing college entrance exam scores? She had my blessing to steal mine!

To shield my sister from a street thug's iron bar after she cut class, my right leg was shattered. The infection that followed left the doctors no choice but to amputate. From that day on, I spent ten years in a wheelchair. Consumed with guilt, my sister massaged my stump every single day. My parents wiped their reddened eyes and promised that everything they owned would go to me someday, to make up for what I had lost. Then my sister won the highest international ballet award, and the whole family wept with joy. Before the ceremony, she looked at my wheelchair. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "This is the greatest moment of my life. If a cripple tags along, what will the press write about me? "Dad, Mom, just this once, let the three of us go together, looking our best. Please?" My parents caved in the end. Before they left, Mom was afraid I might fall, so she lashed me to the wheelchair with hemp rope. "Be good, Audrey. I put all the knives and scissors away. Don't move around. We'll bring you back egg tarts from Belem." I sat obediently in the middle of the living room and watched the front door close, then heard the lock turn from outside. That night, the old electric blanket in the bedroom short-circuited and caught fire. The flames burned their way from the bedroom into the living room. I could not break free of the ropes. I could not reach the door handle. I could not find a single thing sharp enough to cut myself loose. The fire licked up my one remaining leg. The pain was beyond anything I had ever known. I sobbed through the smoke, begging my family to save me. They hung up. On the television, my sister stood in the spotlight, her smile radiant and dazzling.