Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Family Emotions

On the day my uncle, Steve Chapman, showed signs of heart failure, my mother, Irina Cress, drugged my father, Sean Chapman, and placed him on the surgery table. His heart was taken by force and transplanted into Steve, which extended Steve’s life for an additional 10 years. I left home after that incident and studied hard. I eventually earned admission to a medical research university because I ranked first in my class. After 10 years, I developed an artificial heart and became a sought‑after expert in the medical field. Many people came to me and hoped to be placed on the list for an artificial heart. My assistant, Lewis Henderson, handed me the latest list of applicants. Steve’s name appeared at the top. I raised my pen and drew a line across his name. “This person is not approved. Put him on the blacklist.”

Two years ago, my older sister Jaslyn and I were trapped in a housefire. The firefighters told Mom she had to make a choice. They could only save one of us. Mom chose me because I was closer to the door. Later, when she learned that the fire had been caused by us breaking into the neighbor's house to steal stuff, she grabbed me by the hair and yelled at me. "Your sister Jaslyn was a model student. There's no way she would steal anything. "You're the thief! If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have died!" From then on, I wasn't allowed to eat good food or wear nice clothes. Every day, I had to kneel before Jaslyn's portrait and atone for my sins. One day, the class fund went missing at school. Mom was convinced I had stolen it and dragged me away to confess. Terrified, I ran off, only to be hit by a car. As I lay dying, I called Mom and begged her to come save me. She snorted. "Such a liar! You stole Jaslyn's life from her back then. It's your turn to die now!" Later, Jaslyn, who had supposedly been dead for two years, returned and revealed the truth about what had happened back then. Mom broke down. She took Jaslyn from house to house, explaining the truth to every one of my classmates. "Nina is not a thief."

I have just disembarked from the plane when I receive a call from my sister, Sienna Miller's, manager. "Bad news! Sienna's role was stolen from her." I immediately rush to the set only to see Sienna surrounded by a group of people. Her cheeks are red and swollen from being slapped repeatedly. A mixture of fury and panic rages within me. I'm just about to step forward when a young woman, who looks no older than 16 years old and is wearing a dress that is covered in ruffles and frills, slaps me across my face. I'm stunned by the slap. A murderous glint flickers in my eyes. "Do you have any idea who I am?" I hiss. The young woman scoffs and sneers. "Who do you think you are? How dare you try to intimidate me? You'll be offending the only daughter of Deslano's Miller family, Quinn Miller. You'll also be facing a fate worse than death if you dare to fight me for this role." The director's arrogance from before has disappeared. He rubs his hands together as he tries to smooth the situation over. "She invested a significant amount of funds when she joined the crew. You're no match for her. If you know what's good for you, you'll accept whatever role that is assigned to you." The only daughter of the Miller family? What does that make me and Sienna then? I immediately call Dad and coldly demand answers from him. "It hasn't even been a week since Mom passed away. Are you in that much of a rush to bring your mistress and other children into the family?"

My older brother, Oliver Stewart, and I are twins, but he was born frail and sickly. My parents tell me, "Your mother lavished you with love while you were in the womb and fed you all the nutrients, so we'll now focus on giving Oliver love." And so, Oliver receives all their love since childhood. When we were young, my parents got Oliver the best education. When we become adults, my parents prepare a generous budget for his wedding and later help him raise his children too. One day, my parents—now old and frail—suddenly come looking for me. "We've gone above and beyond for Oliver, so we'll live with you from now on and make things up to you," they say to me. However, I now have a wife who loves me, as well as a cute daughter and a handsome son. I haven't needed my parents for a long time.

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.

On my birthday, the family's fake heiress threw herself into the sea. She left a suicide note saying she was giving me back my rightful place in the family. I'd already spent every day in the Carter house walking on eggshells, and in a single moment her death dropped me straight into hell. My parents hated me. "We brought you back into this family and gave you everything. Was that still not enough for you? Why couldn't you let her stay?" My brother blamed me. "You were raised in foster care like some wild animal. You don't belong in this family at all. Chloe was the one who begged us to bring you home. Don't you have an ounce of gratitude?" Not one of them mentioned that my life of supposed privilege meant living in the Carter house as Chloe's maid and errand girl. After pleading for me to come home, Chloe beat me, cursed me, and humiliated me whenever no one was watching. Whatever happened, they took her side without question. From then on, they locked me in the dog kennel behind the house, and no one asked about me again. That winter, the housekeeper decided it was too cold to come out and feed me, so I ate snow to fill my stomach. The snow aggravated my already weak stomach, and before long, I developed a high fever. The agony lasted through the entire night before I finally lost consciousness. I never learned whether the fever killed me or whether I froze to death. Not long after I died, Chloe came home.

Right as college acceptance letters went out, my golden boy of a brother, Bill Cyrus, spread a rumor that I stole his spot at Braxton University. His only proof was a single paparazzi shot of me standing outside the university gates. Of course, my parents believed him. To protect Bill's precious reputation, they forced me to take the fall. They even threatened to lock me away in an internet-addiction center for good to erase their embarrassment of their younger son—the one who dropped out and ran wild for a year. Watching my own family line up to tear me apart over one massive lie, the last scrap of hope I had for them shattered completely. I stopped holding back. I watched, ice-cold, as they dug their own graves. Let's see exactly how someone who couldn't even clear the cutoff for an average state school planned to prove he got into the best university in the country.

My parents used lottery tickets to decide our allowances because they wanted to train and educate my younger sister, Elena Carter, and me. Every week before we returned to school, we would be given five lottery tickets. Whatever amount we scratched would be our weekly allowance. Elena was always lucky. She would always win at least a hundred dollars, and she would spend the money on good meals, dresses, and even buying her roommates coffee. The most I had won was 15 dollars, and most of the day, all I got was a few dollars. At the height of my bad luck, all five lottery tickets would end up being losing tickets. I had to rely on the two dollars I managed to save last week. When I asked my parents to give me a regular allowance of 20 dollars per week, my mother rejected my request, looking upset. "The same rule applies to both of you. Why are you blaming us when you purely have bad luck?" Once, I was starving so badly that I opened the cupboard where they kept the lottery tickets while they were not home. There were two stacks of lottery tickets. One stack had my name, and the other had Elena's. For some reason, I picked a ticket from Elena's stack and quietly scratched it in my room. I won 30 dollars, and I excitedly ran to the convenience store to get my cash, but when the owner saw my lottery ticket, he laughed. "Stop kidding around, young lady. This is a customized ticket. You can't exchange any cash for this." At that moment, my heart was filled with despair.

My little brother got himself a girlfriend. The moment the news reached them, the whole family lit up. My sister, Serena, clapped so hard her palms cracked. "Who is she? Which lucky girl caught our handsome Tyler's eye?" Mom's face glowed like the credit was hers. "Look who raised him. It was only a matter of time before some girl noticed." Dad couldn't stop grinning. "That's my boy. Good for you, son!" The second they caught Tyler looking embarrassed, they pressed their advantage. "So it's like that, is it? Thanksgiving's almost here. Bring her home. We want to meet her." Then it was my turn, and all they managed were a couple of flat, dutiful lines. "Adrian, you're not as good-looking as your brother, and you've never been quick with words. You're lucky anybody wants you." "So don't be picky. Just lock the wedding in and be done with it." Serena tossed in a joke without even looking up. "Right. Five years, and she still hasn't dumped you — she's even talking marriage. She must be a decent person." They never asked whether my girlfriend was good to me. They never asked whether her parents were decent people. They never once asked to meet her. They just approved the marriage. Not because she was good enough. Because in their eyes, I was worth nothing at all. I let out a slow breath and drank down my tea. It had gone cold a long time ago. If they didn't love me, then I'd go pick a family that did. From now on, we go our separate ways.

After our son suffered severe burns in a fire, I gave up everything to care for him and my wife, who was on the verge of a breakdown. However, all she ever told me was to get out. Then, one night, I woke to the sharp smell of gasoline. My wife stood at the foot of the bed, with a lighter clenched in her hand. “Now we’ll be even.”

Three years after my release from prison, I ran into my ex-wife in the presidential suite of the most exclusive hotel in Bayshore. It had been years since I last saw her. She was draped in a silk robe, radiating wealth. When she recognized me, something unreadable passed through Cecily Monroe's eyes. "On the day you got out, why didn't you wait for me to come pick you up?" I said nothing and handed over the takeout. Her gaze dropped to the scar on my wrist, and her breath caught. "I went too far with that. But you've always been tougher than Adrian. You can always get back on your feet." She was talking about what happened six years ago, when Adrian Burke was involved in a catastrophic medical malpractice incident. She fabricated evidence to pin the blame on me and sent me to prison. I stepped away from Cecily. Over 1,000 days and nights of hard labor behind bars had ground away every last trace of whatever I once felt for her.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started to believe I was naturally evil. On the day of the Blood Moon Ball, Mom was getting ready to take my sister out. A sudden, agonizing pain hit my abdomen. I curled up on the floor, begging, "Mom, my stomach hurts so bad. Please help me." But the ring just glowed red, constantly releasing its burning magic. Mom looked down at me, drenched in cold sweat, with utter disgust. "Faking sick just to tag along to the ball? You never change!" She turned, took Mia, and slammed the front door behind her. The intense pain made my body feel light and floaty. Dizzy, I thought to myself: Maybe when I'm dead, I'll finally be an honest child, and Mom will be happy.

My boyfriend had a border collie named Milo that he treated like his own child. No matter how broke we were, Milo never went without. We waited outside the warehouse club for its 10 p.m. bread markdowns, then bought Milo fresh seafood flown in that morning. We worked until conjunctivitis left our eyes bloodshot and still didn't dare take a day off, all so we could send Milo to a summer camp that cost more than three thousand dollars. I always thought Lucian simply loved animals too much, that people could tough it out but Milo shouldn't have to suffer. Until the Calloway heir threw a lavish banquet in the north end of town for his beloved pet's birthday. I snuck in hoping to take home some food for Milo, only to discover that the host was my boyfriend, Lucian Calloway, and the birthday pet was Milo. A single napkin at their table was worth more than my entire year's salary. A guest tossing off a casual compliment about how silky the coat looked walked away with a generous reward. That was when it hit me: with a snap of his fingers, Lucian could have paid to treat the stomach and eye problems I'd developed from overwork. And there I was, the fool who'd hidden my medical reports to save money, gutting it out year after year. Maybe in his mind, spending money on strangers and the dog was a better investment than spending it on me. So it was time for me to leave. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "The marriage alliance with the Bennetts. I accept."

After class, my half sister sent a driver to pick me up for the family dinner. But he parked outside the estate of the Besa family, the most dangerous mafia clan in England. My half sister, Sophie Hawthorne, was practically dripping with smugness on the other end. "Got you! The driver's gone. Let's see how you get out of this one!" I stood frozen. My father sighed on the other end of the line. "You fell for a trick that simple? You're a disgrace to the Hawthorne blood in your veins!" My stepmother laughed. "How can you be this stupid? Find your own way out. We have a dinner to attend." Shaking with fear, I sank to the ground and, with my last shred of hope, called my fiance, Ethan Mercer. The call connected, but it was Sophie's voice that answered. "Iris, Mom and Dad said you have to come back on your own. No cheating!" Ethan took the phone. His tone was breezy. "Come on. Don't disappoint your sister after all the thought she put into this. Good luck." The line went dead. Before, I would have cried and called them over and over until someone agreed to come get me. But this time, staring at the forest stretching endlessly before me, I was just tired. Sophie loved her pranks, and the whole family played along. Last year, she kissed my fiance in front of everyone at my engagement party. Last month, she swapped my heart medication for sugar pills and landed me in the ICU. This time, they all knew the Besa family' reputation for cruelty, yet they still helped her dump me on their doorstep. I spotted the red glow of a surveillance camera in the distance. I knew there was no escaping. I wiped my tears and stood up. I walked toward the Besa estate. If my own family wouldn't have me, I would find one that would.

At the party the night before our wedding, I came across a couples' challenge post online: [If I weren't an option, who would you most want to marry?] I smiled as I asked my fiance, Julian Hayes. He didn't hesitate. "Vivian." Vivian Bennett was my younger sister. My best friend chimed in. "Honestly, Vivian does understand him best. Every time you two fight, she's the one who stays up talking to Julian until dawn." Vivian reached over and gave him a playful punch on the chest. "Better keep your fiance in line, sis. Can't have him pining after me all the time." The whole table erupted in laughter. My mother, Margaret Bennett, gave an amused tsk. "It's just a joke. Besides, Vivian never complains the way you do. It's only natural that Julian likes her." Julian glanced at me. "It was just a joke. What, you can't take one again?" I didn't respond. I looked down at the confirmation form the wedding planner had just sent over. The gown, the bouquet, the music, the menu. All chosen to Vivian's taste. So this wedding, from start to finish, had only one thing that was mine: my name in the bride's place. If it didn't matter who the bride was, then there was no point in having this wedding at all.

I host a late-night campus radio show and have been on the air for three years. I take calls about cheating, scandals, and even people threatening to end their lives. The final night to submit college choices is also my last night on the air before graduation. At 11:30 pm, an anonymous call comes through. It's a guy. "Host, I changed my sister's college choices for my mom tonight," he says. "I have two sisters. Ever since we were kids, the older one has been better at everything than the younger one. "She gets better grades, she's prettier, and even strangers praise her. "This year, my younger sister is just 20 points short of the cutoff, while my older sister is certain to get into a top university. "So I changed all my older sister's college choices to schools she can't get into. That way, she has to wait a year and apply again. "She's smart anyway. If she takes the exam again and reapplies, she can get into an even better school. It all works out in the end." He pauses. "We just want my little sister to win for once. That's not too much to ask for, is it?" I grip the microphone but say nothing. Suddenly, another guy's voice comes through the line. "Host, I'm the older sister's boyfriend. We've been together for three years. Honestly, I do feel bad about this. "Could you play her a song? She listens to your show every night. If she hears it and comes to see me tomorrow, we can still talk about which schools she should apply to. "If she doesn't hear it, then I guess it doesn't matter." I take a deep breath and reach out to end the call. Suddenly, the producer cuts to a piano piece. I freeze, my blood running cold. It's the song I taught my childhood best friend to play, note by note, back when I was 16 years old. Only the two of us know this song.

The school bully bullies a female student, then pins the blame on me. I immediately call the police, only for my own mother to give testimony for him instead. "You may be my son, but I can't bend the law or cover for you! What you did was against the law. I'll only have you sent away for a few years to straighten you out." Due to her false testimony, I am thrown into prison for three years. Three years later, my mother looks at me with remorse and says, "I owed the bully's father my life. You've paid off that debt with three years of your life. From now on, we can put everything behind us and live a happy life!" Upon hearing her words, I scoff and throw my lawyer's complaint at her. "No, I'll live a happy life. "And you'd better prepare yourself for my appeal to overturn the verdict! You owed him a debt. That doesn't mean I had to pay for it."

As the only child born after Mom and Dad's remarriage, everyone says that I'm the most obedient and well-behaved one. I'm also the best role model for my older half-brother, Matt Hammond, and my older half-sister, Carrie Hammond. Matt is a troublemaker who loves getting into trouble. He once stole Mom's diamond necklace and sold it to buy skins for his online games. But as Mom is his stepmother, she finds disciplining him hard and therefore only lashes out at me when she catches me eating tortilla chips and gives me a good beating. "Were you the one who bought these chips? How dare you eat them without asking permission first? That's stealing! You're behaving like a thief!" Meanwhile, Carrie is naturally rebellious and dreams of being a pop star to go after her idol. Because of that, she refuses to go to school. But as Dad is her stepfather, he finds disciplining her hard as well. So, he lashes out at me instead by sending me off to the countryside for two months of "reformation" just because I missed a couple of points on the midterm exams. "Since you don't care about studying hard, then you might as well just work as a laborer in the countryside for the rest of your life!" Soon after, Matt and Carrie decide to run off before the SAT. Matt wants to go and meet his online girlfriend, Tracy Wilkins, and Carrie wants to attend a concert. As punishment, Mom and Dad tie me up tightly to the bed before locking the bedroom door from the outside. The more I struggle, the tighter the knots become. I stare at the locked door and say to myself, "If there ever is a next life, I don't want to be the 'good' kid anymore…"

At a community party held to commend Dad, the community association director taps the microphone and makes an announcement. He says, "Mr. Cohen is selfless indeed. He has donated all the profits from his son's cafe to Jared Leroy. He solved the biggest problem that Gavin Leroy's household is facing." I think I must have heard him wrong. So the reason my accounts never added up was because my dad, Leonard Cohen, had given away my cafe's profits. But Dad straightens himself and says to me, "Gavin once saved my life, Hugh. Now, his family can't even afford the rent. What's wrong with you helping them out a little?" "Then what about me?" I ask in a shaky voice. Dad says with a frown, "You're different. After all, you're young. A little hardship will help you grow." Tears fall onto the account book clenched in my hands, blurring the ink. "If you're so desperate to have someone repay your kindness like you're their savior," I say, tearing out the last page of the ledger. "Then let Jared be the one to support you when you're old."

The day before New Year's Eve, my wealthy parents, Mitchell Parker and Delilah Smith, and my sister, Mila Parker, finally agree to ring in the New Year with me at the amusement park. However, when I arrive there, they are nowhere to be found. When I text them, they tell me they're stuck in traffic and will be late. I wait alone there until the clock hits midnight. Then, I come across my adopted brother Leo Meyer's Instagram post. He's dressed in an expensive suit, holding the piano trophy he has just won, with Mom, Dad, and Mila gathered around him at a New Year's Eve party. The caption reads, "It's another year with my family who truly loves me." His friends start liking the post. This isn't the first time my family has stood me up. But this time, I don't make a scene. I just leave a comment. "How wonderful. Happy New Year to the four of you."