Bias Biological Family Maiikling Kwento at Nobela

Three years ago, on a full moon night, my mother jolted awake at midnight, claiming the Moon Goddess had delivered a prophecy: On the day of my twentieth birthday, the feral gene inside me would spiral out of control. I would shift into a wolf and kill my sister. At first, my parents were skeptical. But after I awakened my wolf at eighteen, my sister would seize up whenever she was near me, clutching her chest and collapsing to the ground in violent fits of gasping. To protect her and force my wolf into dormancy, my parents resorted to every harsh measure they could devise. They poured suppression potions down my throat that ate away at my organs, and clamped a restraining collar around my neck so my sister could keep me on a leash. Eventually, my wolf vanished completely. And somehow, I survived to my twentieth birthday. A flash of joy hit me, and I reached for the cake on the table. My father backhanded me so hard I went flying. "That feral gene in your blood really is impossible to tame! "If anyone eats first, it's your sister. What makes you think you can touch it?" Clara stepped forward as if to soothe things over, but my mother pulled her behind her back, eyes full of wariness as she edged away from me. Then my father dragged me up to the attic and bolted the door shut. Through the door, they said, "Stay put and get through tonight. The prophecy will be broken. "After this, we'll give you half the love we've shown your sister." I sank my teeth into my lip, not daring to make a sound. Years of the suppression potion had already hollowed out my body. My consciousness was fading, piece by piece. Mom, Dad, in that dream the Moon Goddess sent you, did she happen to mention this part? That the one dying today might be me?

After my sister was born, my mother's love turned into a game decided by a coin toss. Mom had a custom gold coin made: the flower side stood for my sister, and the number side stood for me. For ten years, that coin decided who got the bigger slice of cake, who got a new dress, and even who went to the doctor when we were sick. But the number side never once landed face up. I cried, because none of it was fair, and Mom just looked at me coldly and said, "Your luck is worse than hers. Who are you going to blame for that?" The day my acceptance letter from the elite prep school arrived, all I wanted was a steak cooked by Mom. So I secretly swapped in a rigged coin engraved with a number on both sides. The coin hit the floor. Mom spotted the trick at once and kicked me hard, through the doorway and into my room. "You vicious little rotten thing. Get in there and think about what you did!" She didn't know that when she kicked me across the room, my head slammed into the sharp corner of my desk. Blood flooded my vision in an instant, and the pain was so intense I couldn't make a sound. I crawled toward the half-open door in desperation. I got a hand on the panel and tried to pull myself upright to call for help, and then a dead, silent dizziness rolled over me. My legs gave out, and my body, already unconscious, pitched straight forward. The momentum of my fall yanked the wooden door shut with a bang! I lay there limp as mud, and my own weight wedged that inward-opening door shut for good. Mom's furious voice came through from the hall. "So now you've got an attitude? Slamming doors at me? Then you can starve in there! "Don't be scared, Chloe. Mommy's taking you out for a big seafood dinner." Her heels receded down the hall as warm blood spread across the floor, inch by inch. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll win with my own luck.

The sales department organized a team-building trip and turned it into a killer-instinct trail race, with a $30,000 prize for the winner. I volunteer with a search and rescue team, and I stayed up all night mapping the safest route with supply points along the way. The new VP they had parachuted in tore up my map right before we set out. "What's the fun in a paved trail? We take the undeveloped Wildman Gorge. That's how you show real killer instinct! "To keep anyone from cheating with GPS, everyone hands over their communication devices." I pointed at the thunderheads on the horizon and tried to stop him. Wildman Gorge floods easily, and going in without radios was suicide. Instead, he smashed my radio to pieces in front of everyone. "You're just jealous that I got to lead this thing, and you want to keep everyone from taking home the prize money, right?" For that $30,000, my coworkers lined up to call me a coward who cared nothing about the team. Fine. I took off my shell jacket and volunteered to stay at base camp at the bottom of the mountain. A storm was coming. If this pack of office wolves wanted to take on a mudslide in Wildman Gorge, I would sit there with a hot cup of tea and wish them a triumphant return.

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane, had a room filled with newly purchased combat manuals and an entire wall of cabinets for his hunting boots. The remaining bedroom had been turned into Kalista's walk-in closet, and all my luggage had been piled outside the bathroom. I asked Mom, "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She froze for a moment before pointing at the brand-new sofa in the living room. "You're usually out on night patrol and hardly ever come home. If you occasionally stay the night, isn't the sofa good enough?" Dad frowned as well. "Family members should be considerate of one another. Although the pack rewarded you with this apartment, it belongs to the whole family too. Be generous. Don't start fighting over rooms the moment we move in." I lowered my head and looked at the insignia in my hand. Suddenly, I laughed. So the large home I had risked my life to earn had room for Kalista's clothes, Keane's equipment, and my parents' pride. But somehow, there was no room for me. That night, I received an encrypted message from the captain of the guard. [Outpost 3 on the northern frontier urgently needs a werewolf guard willing to serve there long-term. The assignment involves three years of closed rotation under harsh conditions, but each guard will be provided with private quarters.] I looked up at the four closed doors and quietly typed two words in reply. [I'm going.] If there was no place for me here, then I would go somewhere that had reserved a place for me.

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In seven days, I would leave. Harvard acceptance in hand—Boston waiting.

For the third time, Mom complains that the fridge isn't cooling properly. I know she's waiting for me to offer to buy a new one. Mom's always saying I'm the one holding this family together. She constantly reminds me that my younger sister, Celia Kessler, only makes 2,000 dollars a month and can't be expected to help. So everything falls on me. When Mom says her bedroom is too hot, I grit my teeth and buy her a new air conditioner. When Dad complains about his constant neck pain, I scrape a living for a month so I can afford a neck massager for him. Last year, I even paid for most of the renovations on the house, scrimping and saving to cover the cost. I've been working for five years and make 8,000 dollars a month. But by the end of every month, I don't even have 500 dollars left. Seeing that I'm not going to say anything, Mom slams her fork down on the table and shoots me a glance. "They say you have kids so someone will take care of you when you're old. Guess I wasn't that lucky!" My chest tightens, and suddenly the food in my mouth is hard to swallow. I'm about to say something when the front door opens. Celia calls out cheerfully, "Mom, I got paid almost 10,000 dollars! You and Dad don't need to give me the usual 4,000 this month!" I look up, stunned. Celia walks in carrying the latest tablet, and my boyfriend, Bryan Alston, is right behind her. He told me he had a client meeting today. That's when I realize where the money has really been going. Every month, I give Mom an extra 5,000 dollars for household expenses, and she's been giving most of it to Celia. Everyone depends on me, but somehow I'm the one who has the least.

The day summer break started after my third year of college, Mom and Dad drove over in their SUV to pick us up. My older sister, Janet Gould, helped carry the luggage. My younger brother, Harvey Gould, clung to Mom and soaked up her attention. When I carried my duffel bag downstairs, they stared at me in shock. None of them recognized me. "Liam, is that you? How did you lose so much weight?" Mom looked me over, her expression hard to read. For a moment, I thought she was worried about me. But then she suddenly frowned. "You're not sick, are you? We don't have health insurance for you." Janet looked at me with disgust. "Did you lose all that weight just to compete with Harvey for attention? That's ridiculous." Dad leaned out of the car. "Stop wasting time. Our table at the restaurant will be ready any minute. Same as always. Harvey gets car sick, so he sits in the front. Janet will sit in the back. "There's not enough room. Liam, just take a cab." I gripped my duffel bag tighter. "But it's a five-seater. Now that I'm…" Before I could finish, they drove away. I stood there staring at my luggage for a long time. I used to weigh 240 pounds. When Mom bought Janet a designer jacket that cost over a thousand dollars, she said they didn't have my size, so I didn't get one. Harvey wore basketball shoes that cost a few hundred dollars. Dad said they'd be too tight on my feet because of my weight, so I didn't get a pair either. I used to think they left me out of the car because I was too heavy. But it turns out even after losing 90 pounds, there was still no place for me in this family. If that's how it is, I won't try to fit in anymore.

My family is democratic. Every decision is always settled by a family vote. Mom, Dad, my older brother, and my little sister each get one vote. I get one vote too. But the problem is that four votes always beat one. I never win. When I'm a sophomore in high school, my brother, Jonathan Hayes, wants a new computer. The vote passes four to one. The money I'd spent three years saving for college course fees disappears overnight. During senior year, I earn an early admission offer from North City University. My little sister, Jasmine Hayes, bursts into tears, saying she doesn't want me to move so far away. So, the family holds another vote. Dad places an application form on the table and says, "The majority has spoken. You'll attend the local teachers college." I argue that I've worked myself to the bone to get into North City University. Mom frowns. "Why are you so stubborn? If you stay here, you'll be able to help Jon later and also keep an eye on Jas. Wouldn't that be better for everyone?" Then, when Jonathan's startup business runs into financial trouble, Dad picks up my admission letter and announces that my tuition money will be loaned to Jonathan first. Jasmine links her arm through mine and says with a smile, "Josh, everyone has already voted. You can't be upset just because you lost." Looking at the admission letter that's decided by their votes, I suddenly find it absurd. So, this is what they call democracy—four of them legally deciding what I should lose. That night, I don't argue. I go online and fill in an application to a classified research program in the Northwest Podin Desert. From then on, the only vote that matters is my own.

Before our mating ceremony, my mate, Pavel Blackwell, took me and my older sister, Vivienne, out for seafood. The server recognized them and came over smiling. "The usual for you two?" Pavel nodded. He slid into the seat beside Vivienne without a second thought. The crab came out of the steamer, and he cracked the shell open piece by piece and passed the meat to her. I had been put at a spare chair shoved into the aisle, without so much as a dish of sauce in front of me. Halfway through the meal, the server appeared with a couples' silverware set. "Pavel, Vivienne, this is your hundredth visit to us. That means you get your custom set." A line was engraved on the back of each piece. "Pavel and Vivienne. Never apart." The earliest date on the record was three years ago today. It took me a moment to place the date. That was the day a severe allergic reaction sent me into surgery and I nearly didn't make it out. So for the three hours my life hung in the balance, Pavel had not been waiting outside that door at all. Vivienne ran a finger over the engraving and gave a mischievous smile. "Pavel, once you and my little sister are mated, she won't stop you from going out with me, will she?" Pavel ruffled her hair and turned to look at me. "Of course not. She's always been reasonable. "Besides, you and I have known each other for ten years. Ashlyn and I have only known we were fated mates for four. If it bothers her, she can learn to live with it." On the way back, I got into the back seat on my own. The front seat had always belonged to Vivienne. Then the car's voice assistant chimed in. "Welcome aboard, Vivienne! Pavel will get you home safely!" I watched the scenery stream past the window, and suddenly I was tired of all of it. So I took out my phone and sent my father a message. "I agree to the pack's arranged mating." Ten years of closeness had turned the two of them into a habit. Then let me be the one to quit mine. Four years of it.

After the Intermediate Mage Examination, I stood outside the door and overheard my mother tell a relative, "The Royal Academy's tuition is too expensive. We can't afford to send both daughters." The relative tried to reason with her. "They're both your daughters. You can't send one and leave the other behind." My brother cut in. "Liana can't even cast a basic light spell. She's the one who needs the extra help. Ella's talented enough to manage on her own. Send her with Liana as a maid. She can sit in on classes whenever she's free." Then came the voice of Caden Vale, the boy I had grown up with. "That's fair." Standing outside the door, I finally understood what fair meant to them. Liana got the place at the academy. I got to save them the extra tuition and wait on her as a maid. When we were kids learning the levitation spell, the only cushion in the house always went under Liana. Once, I fell and cracked my head open. Even then, I made excuses for them. I told myself Liana needed more protection than I did. But as I listened to them laugh, something inside me finally snapped. This time, I would not let Liana use me as her stepping-stone.

Lillian Cowfer, a human trafficker who had been on the run for ten years, was finally caught. On the day of her public trial, she listened to the charges against her. Then she suddenly smiled. "I object. The indictment says I kidnapped 23 people, but that's not true. I kidnapped 24." The entire courtroom fell silent. Lillian's smile grew more mysterious. "You all say I destroyed 23 families and that I'm guilty of the worst crimes imaginable. But this 24th victim didn't have a family to begin with. I even found her a new family. Isn't that a good thing?" The prosecutor leaned toward the judge and whispered, "Your Honor, there have only been 23 kidnapping cases over the years. She may be making this up on purpose to delay the trial and buy herself more time." But just as the judge was about to bring down the gavel, Lillian suddenly shouted. "Your Honor, your daughter hasn't come home in three years. Don't you want to know where she is?"

My parents hand me this year's "atonement list", which includes a Porsche worth at least six figures. They claim that my late brother, Caleb Patterson, loved luxury cars above all else. Even though he died saving my life, they say I owe it to him to buy a real one and burn it in his memory. That way, he can enjoy it in the afterlife. Just as I'm about to drain my savings to appease them—just as I've done for the past ten years—I receive a notification about a trending post titled, "How do you get the oldest child to willingly spend their whole life slaving away for the younger one?" After a moment's thought, I tap the notification and start typing a reply, one word at a time. "I'm the oldest child, but I'm adopted. Ten years ago, my younger brother drowned while saving my life. I owe my family my life, so no matter how outrageous my parents' demands are, I'll do everything in my power to fulfill them. I see it as my way of carrying my brother's share of caring for our parents too." But before I can hit post, a top-voted comment from the original poster catches my eye. "What's so hard about that? Ten years ago, I got myself into trouble and needed to lay low for a while. And because of that, my parents lied to my adopted brother and told him I was swept away by the current while trying to save him from drowning. "For the past ten years, I've been living a life of luxury overseas under a fake identity. Meanwhile, my idiot brother has been brainwashed by our parents under the guise of 'atonement'. Every year, he hands over hundreds of thousands of dollars as penance." The poster even attaches a photo. In it is a handwritten "atonement list", with one entry standing out in particular. "Limited-edition Patek Philippe watch, platinum, diamond-set version." Every drop of blood in my body turns to ice. There's a coffee stain in the bottom-right corner of the paper in that photo. It's identical to the one on the list Mom and Dad just handed me.

I've had a terrible memory since I was a child. I can never seem to remember anything. But my older brother, Fred Zimmer, is the pride of the family. He gets excellent grades and is handsome, too. Mom always says, "Don't feel pressured. We love you both the same." Dad often comforts me, too. "Josh, forgetting things means you won't have a lot of worries. All I want is for you to be happy." I've always believed them without question. After I graduate, I secretly take my birth certificate and apply for public housing to help ease the financial strain at home. After entering my information, the clerk frowns and looks up at me. "Kid, something's not right with these records." I freeze. "What's wrong?" "According to the records, Fred Zimmer is the only child officially registered to these parents." In that instant, I feel my whole body go numb. "That can't be right. Could the system have made a mistake?" The clerk checks again for a long time before finally looking at me helplessly. "Your parents are registered as someone else here." I don't know how I make it out of the building. I can't believe I've spent more than 20 years as their son, only to find out that they've never officially recognized me as one. I don't want this family anymore.

A week before my wedding, my family decided to play a little guessing game. Everyone described the happiest thing that had happened to them, and then we took turns reading the answers aloud and guessing what it was. My parents' eyes were already glistening with tears as they said, "We've waited so many years for this. It's finally happening." My younger brother, Chad Baird, practically bounced out of his chair. "I get to be the best man!" My childhood friend, Davian Robbins, flushed slightly before saying, "A dream come true. I'm grateful to everyone." Hearing all of them speak, my chest tightened with emotion. For the first time, I thought maybe they really did care about me. I could not hold it in anymore, so I blurted out, "You're all talking about my wedding to Avery, right?" The entire table went silent. A moment later, Chad let out a snort. "Evan, don't flatter yourself. We're talking about Avery and Davian's wedding next week." Avery Bruce barely reacted. "Davian's grandmother has always dreamed of seeing him get married, so we decided to let him have the wedding first." Then she looked at me as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "We all grew up together. You wouldn't want Old Mrs. Robbins to be disappointed, would you?" Meanwhile, my parents looked at Davian with so much warmth that anyone watching would have thought he was their own son. None of them noticed my eyes beginning to redden. Of course, I should have expected this. Whenever someone had to give way, it was always me. I had already given Davian my parents' love and attention, and now I was expected to give him my wedding as well. I thought, 'Fine, if that's what they want, he can have it all. I don't want any of it anymore.'

My parents are music professors, and their university is always hosting these music salons and exchange events. But they never took me. After I graduated from college, I was desperate to see what it was like, so I begged my mother for a visitor's pass. She was busy helping my sister Ella fill out an application for one of those concerts, and she cut me off cold: "Everyone attending is a top-tier musician. You can't even read sheet music—walking in there, you'd just stick out like a sore thumb." A few days later, I stood in the freezing wind, listening to the applause rolling out from the auditorium. My sister stood at center stage, performing alongside a bunch of renowned musicians. That night, my mom posted a proud photo of Ella's performance on social media. Graceful. Composed. Radiant. The comments were all flattery—until one relative asked: [Why didn't you bring your Seraphina along to soak up some of the spotlight?] My mom replied: [She has zero musical talent. Too much of a philistine. Not her scene.] I stared at my phone, glancing at the six-figure offer from Wall Street, and let out a helpless laugh. My mom always favored the kid she thought was brilliant—never had a clue that I was shining somewhere else entirely. Three days left until I move out of Ohio for good. I'm taking everything she called "philistine" about me and walking out of her precious little music kingdom forever.

I've never been one to take a loss. If my dad, Jared Ingram, buys a cake for my sister, Harper Ingram, I'll demand to have half of it. If my mom, Lindsay Sutton, buys a phone for my brother, Simon Ingram, I'll demand to buy a new digital tablet. When I'm eight, my whole famy goes on a trip, and once again, they forget to buy a ticket for me. I run out onto the main road and call the police using a passerby's phone, claiming that my parents have abandoned me. My parents, who have only just left, are forced to turn back. Mom is so furious that she throws my adoption papers at me. "Beth, you're adopted. What more do you want from me?" From that day onward, I stop fighting for what I want. To stay in this family, I try my best to please everyone. When Simon gets in trouble, I kneel in the snow and plead for him. When Harper doesn't want to do her homework, I stay up all night to help her finish it. My parents work hard, so I take care of all the house chores. When my aunt, Brianna Lane, visits us, she pulls Mom into the room and asks, "Lindsay, how did you pull this off? You gave Harper, your adopted daughter, 3,000 dollars a month, but only 300 dollars to your own daughter. Why doesn't Beth ever makes a fuss about it?" Mom lets out an arrogant little laugh. "That's easy. I just told Beth that she was adopted. Forget giving her less money. Even if I gave her nothing at all, she'd still be grateful to me."

Mom and Dad ask me and my adopted brother, Hayden Adley, who we want to celebrate the New Year with. In my first life, I choose to go back to Grandma's and Grandpa's place with Mom, while Hayden goes with Dad. We get into a car accident when Mom's driving us back to her hometown. One of my kidneys has to be surgically removed because it's punctured during the accident, but I still pass away because my body isn't able to survive with just one kidney. In my second life, I choose to go with Dad instead. However, Dad is abducted by one of his enemies when we're on our way back to his hometown. For some inexplicable reason, I'm convicted of the abduction and locked behind bars. In the end, I'm beaten to death by my cellmates. In my third life, I wonder how to spend the New Year as I stand in front of the house. I hear voices coming from beyond the door. "I'll think of a way to get my hands on one of Cameron's kidneys to appease the person you offended if he chooses to come with me," Mom says. "If he goes with your dad instead, we'll get him to take your place in prison. Don't worry. We'll definitely think of something to help you." I'm stunned and stand rooted to the spot. I have earned three lives after working in the Underworld for three thousand years. I have always been worried about Mom and Dad since they passed away, which is why I'm always in a rush to be reborn. I have no idea that they intentionally send me to my death just to help Hayden avoid facing punishment. I call out to the Grim Reaper who's just about to leave. "I changed my mind. I want to be reborn as someone else for my last life. I don't want to suffer with them anymore." The Grim Reaper floats back to me. "Sure. You can start again as long as you kill yourself within the next seven days."

Wyatt Clark, my fiance; Wanda Stone, my adopted sister; and I get into a car crash on the way to register our marriage. Wanda and I are both taken to the hospital. Mom, a renowned surgeon, glances at my back, which is covered in blood, then urgently gathers the doctors and nurses to treat Wanda's two-inch cut. "Wanda's injury is in a visible spot. If we don't treat it immediately, it will leave a scar. "I'm your biological mother, after all. If I were to treat you first, people might accuse me of favoritism. I'll treat your injuries once I'm done with Wanda." I have no choice but to grab Wyatt, who has just changed into his white coat. "S-Save me—" Wyatt coldly pulls away from me before I can even finish speaking. "You were in the back seat—the safest spot. Wanda, on the other hand, was in the passenger seat. How could your injuries be worse than hers? Do you really have to compete with Wanda for attention every single time, Gloria?" He doesn't even look back at me before he rushes into the ER. He seems to have forgotten that when the accident happened, he swerved to protect Wanda in the passenger seat, leaving me in the back to take the full force of the impact. Mom seems to have forgotten the orange wristband on me, which indicates that I am in critical condition. I gradually start losing consciousness, knowing that the glass shard lodged inside me is about to take my life.

On Thanksgiving, my cousin, Harry Beck, brings his fiancee home for dinner. When she sees the two rows of little toys on my desk, she is surprised and tells me that each kid's meal from the fast-food place comes with one toy. She jokes that I must have eaten a lot of fried chicken to collect so many. Thinking my parents spoil me, she even tells me not to eat so much because it is unhealthy. I'm confused. I tell her I've never eaten there and that Mom specifically buys these toys for me. She seems to realize she has said something she shouldn't have. She gives me an awkward smile and quickly goes to the kitchen to help. I stare at the toys that I carefully wipe clean every day. I know that fast-food place. Last summer, when I stay with Dad and Mom in the city, we pass by it and I tell Mom I want to try it. She tells me fried food is unhealthy and the restaurant is too expensive. She says the money is better spent buying me toys instead. At the time, I think Mom must really love me. But if every one of these toys comes from a kids' meal that someone has already eaten, then I can't help wondering. Who is the child she really loves?

Mom wakes from a coma, but the nurse stops me at the ICU entrance because she has asked to see my younger sister. I think Mom has just woken up and doesn't understand what's going on, so I quickly explain that I'm her older daughter and have been taking care of her these past few days. The nurse tells me Mom already knows. Mom was in a car accident a week ago. The moment I got the call at work, I rushed to the hospital before I even had time to request leave. I sign the paperwork, pay the bills, call in every favor I can, and find the best surgeon available. For seven days, I don't go home once. I sleep on a folding cot in the hallway when I'm exhausted, barely manage to eat, and repeatedly ask the doctors for updates on Mom's condition. My younger sister only comes once, on the first day. She stays for less than ten minutes, then complains about the hospital smell and leaves. Yet after Mom is finally out of danger, the person she wants to see most is still my sister. I suppress my hurt and call her, but she impatiently tells me she's busy and will come another day. With no other choice, I ask the nurse to speak to Mom again. I explain that my sister can't come right now and ask if Mom will let me visit first. A few minutes later, the nurse returns. Mom says that if the visitor isn't her younger daughter, she doesn't want to see anyone else.