Bias Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

I was eighteen when I donated one of my kidneys to Susie Grant, but she died to transplant rejection anyway, and I was chased out of the Grant family. Before long, the surgery incision festered, and I died of infection in the streets. When I opened my eyes again, I was five once more, and it was the day I was taken back to the Grant family's home. But this time, my brother Harry stepped in front of our parents, pointing at me as he said, "There's been a mistake. She's not actually my sister." Seeing the look of contempt in his eyes, I knew he had reincarnated too. As our parents left in disappointment, he shoved me a piece of candy and told me, "The Grant family just needs one daughter. There's no place for you among us if you can't save Susie."

On my birthday, my acceptance letter from Mar University finally arrived. Mom even did something completely out of character: she ordered my favorite strawberry cake. For a moment, I thought my parents had finally remembered that today wasn’t just the day for my brother’s medical checkup—it was my birthday, too. However, right after I blew out the candles, Mom pulled out my brother’s acceptance letter from a local community college. “Mason, your brother didn’t do well in his SATs, so he’ll only be able to get into a community college,” she said. “His health is poor, and he can’t handle the stress of retaking the SATs.” Dad cleared his throat, assuming his usual stance as the head of the family. “You two are identical twins, and you look completely alike,” he stated. “So we’ve talked it over. We’re going to have Ethan use your identification and report to Mar University in your place.” The sweet smell of strawberries filled my nose, but it only made me feel sick to my stomach. I stared at Dad, wondering if I had misheard him. “What about me, then?” Mom instantly grabbed my hand. “You’ll use Ethan’s identity to retake your senior year and try again next year,” she urged. “You’re in good health, and you’ve always gotten good grades. Isn’t it just a one-year delay?” It was that same excuse again. Ever since we were kids, I had to give up countless things just because my brother was frail. But this time, this was my life, and I didn’t want to give it up anymore.

Ever since I decide to repeat my senior year due to me not doing well in my SATs, Mom views me as the biggest pain in her ass. After all, I have the potential to get into a prestigious university, and yet my grades are only good enough for me to land a spot in a regular university. To her, it's extremely humiliating. Mom often looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Natalie Jones, after your father cheated on me, I raised you all by myself. If you don't succeed in life, you're basically forcing me to die." She did what she said. If I don't get a perfect score in Math, Mom won't hesitate to jump into a river. If I don't emerge as the top student of the year, she will slit her wrist. I'm worried that Mom might commit more outrageous antics, so I explain to her tentatively, "The truth is, I'm sick…" Without even bothering to look at me, Mom continues speaking to me coldly. "You'd rather curse yourself than study. "I've enrolled you into a prep academy so that you can learn how to be a perfect daughter, not the filthy liar you're being right now." I can only clutch the report that states I have late-stage brain cancer in my hand. Later on, I use the remaining seven days in my life on attending the course that will apparently teach me how to become Mom's perfect daughter.

On the day the SAT scores came out, I got a perfect 1600. My older sister’s expression instantly darkened, and she locked me in the basement. Just because our cousin scored 200 points lower than me, she ordered people to drive two hundred nails into my body. I kneeled on the ground and begged for mercy, but my sister remained entirely unmoved. One hundred and ninety-nine nails were driven deep into my flesh. The final nail was slammed straight into my heart. My sister looked at me in my weakened state. Her voice was cold. "You deserve this! You have the love of Mom, Dad, and me, but Zachary lost his parents at a young age and has been all alone. You are already happy enough, but you just had to score higher than him to humiliate him! "Your life has been too easy. Today, I am going to make you feel true agony!" I lay there as my strength faded. My spirit was completely broken. To comfort our cousin, my sister rented a luxury yacht for him for an entire month. When our parents were about to return to the country to celebrate my success, my sister finally ordered her men to release me. That was when she received a frantic phone call from the housekeeper. "The hospital has delivered Mr. Steven's death certificate!"

I died on my 18th birthday. The woman who sliced open my chest with a scalpel was my mother, Erika Buckley, one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. The man who pushed the anesthetic to keep me from struggling was my father, Marcus Buckley, a renowned chief anesthesiologist. They calmly removed my warm heart and transplanted it into my brother, Caleb Buckley, whose chest was already cut wide open. I had always been his blood bank and his spare organ bank. Little did they know, my soul was floating above them, watching as my heart began to rot inside Caleb's chest.

My coworkers decided to play Truth or Dare at my promotion party. When it was my turn, I had to call the first person in my contacts. A little tipsy from the drinks, I laughed and read the line I had drawn. "I lost my job." I was just about to explain that I was only joking when my mom screamed through the phone. "What? You couldn't even keep your job? How can you be so useless?" My dad warned me from the side, "Your mom and I don't have any money. Don't even think about coming home and spending ours." I pressed my lips together, feeling nothing but disappointment. My younger sister had quit her job the week before because she thought it was too tiring. She went straight home and told our parents to support her. The next day, she posted a picture of the new apartment our parents had bought for her on social media. Her caption read. "Not everyone's pride and joy. Just my parents'."

While the Famiglia is choosing the territories where they will base their operations, everyone gathers around my younger twin sister, Clara Lombardi, to discuss the matter. My older brother, Giulio Lombardi, points at the map. "We're going to Millano, of course. I've already set up several luxury boutiques and real estate firms there. Besides, it's safer in Millano. It's the perfect choice for us!" Nicolo Piazza, the Consigliere, shakes his head in disagreement. "No, Clara. Don't listen to him. We should break into the medical industry together. I can help you turn the Famiglia's entire fortune into legitimate income within the next year." Nicolo and Giulio continue arguing heatedly while Mamma and Papa watch the scene with amused smiles. "Clara, we're not going to have to worry about handing the Famiglia affairs to you with the two of them by your side." A very long time later, they finally remember that I'm also there. Nicolo walks over to me and speaks in a gentle voice. "Julia, you're not familiar with the Famiglia business. So, once Clara makes her decision, you can just tag along with us." Giulio chimes in without even looking up at me. "Right. Besides, it's not like you have good grades anyway. You can wait a couple of years before concerning yourself with the Famiglia affairs." I stand rooted to the spot, a chill spreading deep within me. Even when we were very young, Giulio and Nicolo would always favor Clara over me. Every time she cried, Giulio would immediately give her everything that belonged to me, whether they were my clothes, my shoes, or my toys. Clara also always got everything I ever wanted. Meanwhile, all I got was just a vague promise of, "I'll get you one next time." As it turns out, the situation is still the same even after we've grown up. Nothing has changed. I take out my phone and book a flight to Palerama instead. Since nobody at home cares about me, there's no need for me to see them ever again.

Every question on the college entrance exam was one I had seen before. After I handed in my papers, I was the first to rush out of the examination hall. I said to the reporter who was interviewing me, "The questions aren't hard. I hope I'll go to the same school as him!" After I said that, someone yelled, "Cut! Thanks to our generous boss, everyone will get five hundred dollars in tips!" Everyone cheered as my mother slowly walked over. "After you returned to us, you've always scored better than Courtney, and she's been depressed because of it. She said that her entire life was built on a lie. "So, for you—our biological daughter—we built an exact replica of an examination hall and staged this entire fake exam just to cheer her up." My boyfriend, Kyle Reid, held a bouquet, looking perfectly unconcerned "Actually, Courtney and I took the real exam in the examination hall next door. "Do you really think that you'll be the top scorer? Courtney's the one who came up with your papers. You can just treat it as practice. "You can repeat your senior year, and we'll wait for you at Southvale University." I clenched my fists and smiled bitterly. As expected, once I said my birthday wish out loud, it would no longer come true. What they didn't know was that the university I had received guaranteed admission to wasn't Southvale University. It was the Federal Institute of Defense Technology.

I head home for Thanksgiving, only to find my room stacked with old clothes. Mom walks in, beaming. "Stunned, sweetie? Your Aunt Ashlyn brought all this over just for you. Now be a dear and write up your cousin's homework." It's always this. Last year, Aunt Sofia handed down a box of moldy shoes, and Mom made me coordinate her son's entire wedding in return. I slaved away for over a month without earning a single cent, only to be asked to pay a hefty gift sum on top of that. "Mom, I actually have work to do…" "It's the holidays, sweetie. Family comes first." She points at the wardrobe full of clothes. "Look how nice these are. You won't need to buy clothes for years. Think of all the money you'll save." I laugh. I pull out a top. It's full of holes. She says a quick stitch will fix it right up. I pull out another. It's stained yellow. She says a little bleach will take it right out. "Great," I say. "You wear them, then." I turn on my heel, only to spot Aunt Ashlyn wearing my brand-new wool coat. She offers a smile. "Selena, this coat is really nice, but it's way too big. Help me exchange it for a smaller size, will you?" My heart sinks. "I bought that for myself." Aunt Ashlyn freezes. Mom grabs my wrist hard and says, "Hey, Aunt Ashlyn gives you all those wonderful gifts, and you can't even offer a simple courtesy in return?" Gifts… I turn to look at my bedroom, which resembles a junkyard. I really shouldn't have come back.

Given a new chance at life, upon learning of my husband's supposed death, the first thing I did was to register him as dead. In my previous life, after my husband, Jonah Lloyd, learned that his elder brother, Noah, had died in an accident, he resolved to assume his brother's identity and provide for his widowed sister-in-law. All because the young widow from the city couldn't withstand the gossip of the village. As for me, coming from humble origins, even without my husband, I could survive on my own. When I heard the news, I truly believed that my husband had died in an accident. I was determined to raise our daughter with all my heart. That year, during a blizzard, while his family huddled together and celebrated in the warmth, I was out there fighting over the money after selling my body. I bled out and died in the harsh, cold night. My daughter, Tina, left waiting for me to bring back good, starved to death in the bitter winter. Only after death did I learn that my husband hadn't died. He had spent his entire life in his brother's name, protecting the widow, living to see his children and grandchildren grow old around him. And now, reopening my eyes, I had returned to the very day my husband died in an accident.

After being away from home for three months, my wife, Victoria Sterling, and our daughter, Sophie Sterling, came looking for me, crying as they begged me to come home. Once I was back, they treated me better than ever. They brought breakfast to my bedside, gave me free rein with their black cards, and when I casually mentioned wanting a new car, three brand-new sports cars showed up the very next day. But when Ethan White, Victoria’s childhood sweetheart and first love, accused me of stealing his design drafts, Victoria didn’t bother asking for an explanation. She smashed her phone against my face and snapped, “What do you have to say for yourself?” Sophie yelled at me too. “Get on your knees and apologize to Ethan! Otherwise, get out of the Sterling family!” I looked up at their furious faces. Then I suddenly laughed. Why should I apologize? I’m not even Victoria’s real husband.

On the day of the topping-out ceremony for the resettlement housing, my mother, Diana Knowles, insists on reporting me to the authorities for shoddy workmanship. It's all because my cousin, Marco Sanford, went to play at the construction site, stepped into the freshly set cement, and scraped his knee. "You think you're so great just because you built a couple of buildings?" Mom screams at me. "I can't just stand by and watch you put the whole town in danger just to make millions of dollars by pocketing the difference!" Marco clutches his bandage and explains quietly, "It's all my fault for climbing over the fence to play there, Aunt Diana. The construction workers even tried to stop me. It really has nothing to do with Kevin." The project supervisor, Pete Warner, and the town mayor, Hugo Larkin, also hurriedly produce the inspection report. "Mrs. Sanford, the cement, steel bars, and load-bearing cement are all up to standard. This project is a public housing project that the state government is monitoring very closely, and it's going to be a huge deal if we even stop work for a day." Mom, however, holds her head high and yells in a voice louder than a megaphone, saying, "If Kevin dares to let his relatives get hurt at the construction site, then who knows what else he'll dare to do to the rest of the people by giving them shoddy construction? "Stop flattering him! The fact that he became the project manager for this proves that I understand better than you what it means to be a reliable person!"

My grandparents, Timothy Shaw and Dorothy Elmer, show up one day to ask for 30 thousand dollars. In response, my wife, Jade Quinn, shuts the door in my face. She refuses to discuss the topic of a loan or open the door for anyone. All she does is send me a text message that reads, "I earn a fixed salary. How could I possibly come up with 30 thousand dollars on the fly? Don't you have other colleagues and classmates? Just ask them for a loan." I mull over the message as my hand hovers over the study door's knob. Through a crack in the door, I can see her on a video call with a male student named Nicholas Dion. She says to him, "Nicky, I've transferred 200 thousand dollars to your bank account. It's not safe for a young man like you to live in a rented place off-campus. Consider the money a gift from me for you to use as a down payment." My hand freezes in midair, trembling slightly. Just then, the door is opened, and Jade sees me standing outside the door. She offers no explanation and shows no sign of guilt. She simply explains unhurriedly, "I married you and not your entire family, so I'm not letting just anyone mooch off of me. I worked hard to earn my money too." She closes the door in my face. She was a mere inch away from catching my hand in the doorframe, but she showed no hesitation. I clench my hands into fists, understanding abruptly dawning on me. It turns out that our marriage is worth less than 30 thousand dollars to her.

After my grandmother passed away, my parents brought me back from the countryside to the city. That was when I learned I had a younger sister, born a mere year after me. My mother sat me down and reminded me that as the oldest sister, I needed to learn to yield to my siblings in everything. I nodded quietly, understanding my place. In this household, I ranked fourth. Later, my little brother was born, and my standing effortlessly plummeted from fourth to fifth. The turning point came during the summer of my sophomore year of college. When I returned home for the holidays, I discovered the front door had been outfitted with a brand-new, high-tech smart lock. They had completely forgotten to mention it to me. Clutching a dead phone, I sat on the hot concrete of the stairwell, waiting from two o'clock in the afternoon until ten o'clock at night. When they finally emerged, they were dragging luggage behind them, laughing and chatter-boxing about the highlights of their recent vacation. The four of them were wearing matching family T-shirts. Naturally, there wasn't one for me. As my dad begrudgingly attempted to program my thumbprint into the system, he let out a sharp, irritated click of his tongue. "The master administrator account only permits five profiles. There's no room to add another." My mom barely looked up. "Just set her up with a temporary guest token. We can manually authorize her whenever she decides to visit." As I stood there stunned, my brother laughed. "Shelly registered the dog's nose print into the system. She said he's an important member of the family. Guess that leaves you out of the slot!" In a family of five, the dog claimed the fifth tier, and I ranked sixth. That very night, I quietly filled out the application to join a classified frontier research program. I understood that when a visitor's time ran out, the only proper thing to do was take their leave.

My sister had always despised school. So when she suddenly declared she wanted to go to college—and even urged our parents to marry me off to a high-ranking officer's son to fund her studies—I knew at once: she had been reborn too. In our previous life, my sister believed studying was pointless. She barely graduated high school before marrying Anthony Brown, the officer's son who had come to propose with a pretty penny. However, when Anthony was later transferred to a remote outpost, she found the harsh conditions unbearable and refused to follow him. Meanwhile, I worked part-time jobs to put myself through college, landed a secure job after graduation, and became a full-fledged city resident. My sister, still living in the military compound, started using her father-in-law's name to take bribes. Her actions dragged him into a scandal and got him dismissed from his position. Eventually, my mother-in-law kicked her out. After the divorce, she was tricked into investing in stocks in Eastbridge City. The market crashed, and she lost all of our parents' retirement savings. Desperate and with nowhere to go, she turned to me. Cornering me with a knife, she demanded I hand over my savings and apartment so she could "start over." In the chaos, she stabbed me twelve times. I died from massive blood loss. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she asked our parents to marry me off to Anthony. This time, I smiled, said yes—and dropped out of school that very day.

Shortly after I married Andrew Lorne, my mother-in-law has my husband's widowed sister-in-law move in with us. She wants my husband to bear the responsibility of caring for two families. My husband says he wouldn't be who he is without his elder brother's help, so he won't let his sister-in-law suffer. And so, she and her son steal my home and my husband's love. Meanwhile, my daughter and I are banished to the countryside. On the first day of our banishment, I'm violated and murdered by beggars who barge into the house. … It takes three years for my husband to remember me. He comes to the countryside to take me home. "Come out, Jovana. I'll immediately bring you home as long as you agree to give your property to Tiana as an apology for the things you've done." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, my daughter emerges from the yard, which is overgrown with weeds. She tells him I was dead. He doesn't believe her. He allows his mother to beat my daughter half to death and berates me while he's at it. "How dare you, Jovana! You haven't learned your lesson at all, have you? These dirty tricks are all you know, and you even taught our daughter to lie! It's been years, yet you still can't compare to Tiana!"

Mom and Dad have been divorced for ten years. One day, I come across a discussion thread. "Are all children of divorce having it hard?" I join the discussion. "Not always. Personally, I'm living pretty decently. After my parents' divorce, my sister and I were separated—one of us went to live with our paternal grandparents, and the other with our maternal grandparents. "For the last ten years, my parents have visited me once a year. Although they usually only stay for a few days, I can tell that they still love me." Within a minute, someone replies to my comment. "Girl, are you sure? My parents are divorced as well, but they can't bear to leave me at all. I've been with them since I was a kid. On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's. "Honestly, it's like they never divorced at all. LOL." I tap into her profile. The pinned post is a photo of Mom, Dad, and my sister, Hazel Foster. They hug her from either side. The caption reads, "A divorce can end a marriage, but it can't erase the bond we share. I'm glad I'll always be their precious baby." Meanwhile, this morning, Mom replies to me, "Your dad and I have been divorced for so long. Just get him to drop you off at college. It's awkward for me to be there." The next second, I receive Dad's reply. "Ask your mom. I'm a man. What do I know about things like orientation and college? I'll visit you someday when I'm free." I go back to the discussion thread and write back to Hazel. "You're right. Whether or not a child of divorce gets to live a normal life depends entirely on whether the parents still want their child in their lives." After closing the page, I open my email and sign up for an international volunteer program. My destination is a field hospital in a war zone five thousand miles away, where I will spend the next two years. There's no need for me to wait until Mom and Dad have time for me again. I'm never coming back here.

My mother is a hospital director. To give my brother, an intern doctor, more hands-on experience, she assigns him as the lead surgeon for my brain tumor operation. I beg her to let someone else do it and tell her it's my only chance at survival. But she slaps me hard across the face and screams, "How did I raise such a selfish, ungrateful child? Your brother has just started his internship—can't you help him improve his skills? Is that too much to ask?" Later, the surgery fails. I die on the operating table. And my mother seems to have aged decades overnight.

My mom and dad died heroically in a fire rescue, trying to protect an orphan. Afterward, my brother brought the orphan, Audrey, home. To make her smile, he'd throw away photos of me and our parents. He even kicked me out in front of everyone. For Audrey's coming-of-age celebration, he took her to Cranburn—the place I'd always dreamed of going. In his eyes, I had nowhere else to go. He believed that once I realized I was wrong, I'd come back on my own. But what he didn't know was—I had joined an overseas rescue team. This might be the last time we ever see each other.

On Mom's death anniversary, drug dealers break into the cemetery and take me away. To get revenge on my brother, Zack Smith—a forensic pathologist—they torture me until there isn't even a single uninjured spot left on my body. I hold on for almost three days, barely surviving, until I finally get a chance to call him for help. However, Zack replied, "Why didn't they kill you for good? A jinx like you who killed your own mother shouldn't be allowed to live!" When the drug dealers notice my action, they shatter all of my bones. The next day, a janitor discovers several large bags of human remains in the trash can. Zack painstakingly reassembles my body back together with his own hands—yet he fails to recognize that it's me, his younger sister he always claims to hate. When the drug dealers are finally arrested, he descends into madness.