Freak Family Emotions Short Stories & Novels

My mother was a control freak of the highest order. To keep a tighter grip on me, she created a burner account, posed as a sympathetic older-sister type, and became the person I confided in online. She even started a thread about it, practically glowing with pride. [He sends me his bank passwords and private photos of his crush all on his own! Once he gets into a top school, I'm applying as his dorm supervisor. When he gets married, I'm hiding under their bed!] I scrolled through the comments. Tons of people were ripping her to shreds. I laughed. She thought she had total control. She had no idea I was feeding her exactly what I wanted her to see. The bank password I sent two days ago was fake. The 'private photos of my crush' were stock images I pulled off the internet. I took my time typing out a message: [Hey, my dad brought a woman home last night. They were making out on the couch. I secretly recorded it. Want to see?] A scream ripped through the wall from the next room. I put my headphones on and leaned back. The show was just getting started.

Frank Carter has been my private driver and personal assistant for the past three years, but lately he has become impossible to deal with. I ask him to pick up fresh seafood for dinner, but he comes back with nothing more than a bag of frozen shrimp and a few sausages. "Frank, didn't I ask you to buy fresh seafood from the market?" He tosses the grocery bag onto the counter and shrugs. "The seafood isn't fresh today. I'll check again tomorrow." The next day, he comes back with a bottle of Worcestershire sauce. "Seafood's expensive," he says with a grin. "This is premium Worcestershire sauce. Just a splash of this, and the food will taste just as good." I sigh. "You don't have to worry about the cost. We can afford to have seafood every now and then." But things only get worse. Over the next week, Frank keeps bringing home cheaper groceries. Soon, seafood disappears from the menu altogether, along with any decent cuts of meat. Just as I'm debating whether to grab a proper meal somewhere, I overhear Frank talking on the phone in the garage. "Lucas Reed is such a loser. He doesn't deserve a wife like Vivian Grant. Once I introduce my son, Mike Carter, to her, she'll dump that freeloader in no time. Mike will take his place soon enough." I almost laugh. I've been planning to renew Frank's contract for another year. I even plan to help his newly graduated son land a job at Vivian's company. Well, not anymore.

My parents received their ‘Educators of the Year’ award on the day my twin sister and I were born. The reporters asked, "How will you educate your children in the future?" My father looked at the babies in the incubator. "Twins are perfect for a comparison experiment." My mother nodded weakly. "One of them will be brought up as an elite, while the other will grow up naturally. This is the only way to prove if education can change someone's life." That was how my family began its two grooming projects. The elite twin was given early education from the age of one month old, and her schedule was filled with enriching activities until she was 25. The regular twin was guaranteed only her most basic survival needs. The experiment would be a success as long as she did not die of starvation, freeze to death, or succumb to any illnesses. All our relatives praised my parents for their dedication and enthusiasm, and their colleagues told them, "These are what real educators are like." When it came time to announce their results on the big screen during a press conference, 26 years later… Mom, Dad, why are you so afraid to watch the outcome now?

When my sister and I were born, a witch prophesied that once my wolf awakened, it would kill my sister. To protect her, my parents had the witch place a curse on me. As long as my body temperature stayed above 102°F, my wolf could never awaken. For eighteen long years, I suffered through burning fevers every single day. On my eighteenth birthday, my wolf was on the verge of awakening. To prevent any chance of it happening, they kicked me into the heat chamber. I cried and begged them to let me out. But my father said, "Are you trying to awaken behind our backs? You know your wolf will kill your sister. Is that what you want? To drive her to her death?" The chamber was scorching, searing down to my bones. I pounded on the door with everything I had. "Mom, it's so hot in here! I'm in so much pain! Please let me out!" "Oh, stop putting on an act." My mother's voice was sharp and cutting. "Just tough it out and the awakening will pass! Your wolf can't awaken, and then your sister will finally be safe. Why are you always so selfish?" Footsteps faded into the distance. Sweat poured from my forehead, dripping onto my clothes, only to be quickly baked dry by the heat. I curled up in a corner, wrapped in waves of heat and pain. Eventually, my mind went dark, my body gave out, and my breathing stopped.

My mother is a powerhouse, but she somehow ends up with me, a coward with claustrophobia. "What claustrophobia? You're just being dramatic!" In order to help me "desensitize," she builds a pitch-black, soundproof room in the house. In elementary school, I scream and cry in terror the first time she locks me inside, and she punishes me by not letting me eat for three days. In middle school, I try harder to hold it together and only let out a few quiet whimpers, but she makes me kneel in the snow for a full day and night. I tough it out all the way through senior year, telling myself that getting into college and leaving home will fix everything. But on the day of my acceptance party, she decides to show off the results of her desensitization in front of all the guests and locks me straight into the dark room. "Mom!" I drop to my knees, crying and begging as my dignity gets shredded to pieces. "My claustrophobia is gone, I swear. I'm begging you, please don't lock me in there." The look in her eyes is almost unhinged. "No! If you don't go in, you'll never go to college." But eventually, I really am cured. So Mom, why can't you smile anymore?

When my sister and I were born, a prophet foretold that my sister would fall into a deep depression because I was more gifted than she was. On the day of the Fire Dragon Clan's Trial, she would throw herself into the frozen lake and never resurface. To protect her, my parents locked me in the freezing chamber on the day of the Trial. I knelt and begged them until my knees bled. My mother shoved me inside and sealed the door from the outside with a barrier. "You know your sister will die because of you, and you still insist on taking the Trial? How is that anything but trying to get her killed?" The chamber had already dropped to a hundred and twelve degrees below zero, yet I was wearing nothing but a short-sleeved shirt. I threw myself against the barrier, desperate to break out. "Mother, it's freezing in here! Please let me out!" "You're a fire dragon. A little cold can't hurt you. Who are you trying to fool?" My mother's voice was edged with impatience. "The barrier blocks your magic, but we didn't even turn on the refrigeration system. Your sister will be safe soon. Can't you think of her for once?" The sound of their wingbeats faded. My scales cracked from the cold, and blood dripped onto the floor. The barrier had sealed away my magic, and the chill quickly sank deep into my bones. I knelt on the floor as my body stiffened, inch by inch.

My cousin had been pretending to be mentally disabled and freeloading at my house for five years. He scared off two of my ex-girlfriends and drained my parents’ retirement savings. This time, he set his sights on my cunning girlfriend, who was a company president, and sneaked into the guest room. He ended up pinned to the floor by her. My mother rushed in and slapped me. “He cannot help the way he is, but what is your excuse? Couldn’t you just let it go?” My girlfriend remained perfectly calm. She pulled up three months of security footage and said in a flat tone, “You might want to save your outrage until you see what your precious boy’s been doing every night.”

My sister, Nancy Wood, wanted to be the family's only child, so my mother had my name changed and handed my identification documents over to my grandmother. She even told me I had to pay for everything if I wanted to live under their roof. The change and coupons Nancy got from her shopping were the sole source of allowance I'd get. If she saved 30 dollars from her shopping trips, I would get 30 dollars next month. It was the last day for all students to enter their applications for college. I begged my sister to let me use her computer. She extended her hand. "You have to pay me 20 bucks." I fished all the money out of my pocket. I only had 19 dollars. So, I hastily blurted in a panic, "I'm only one dollar short. Please!" Nancy arched her eyebrow at me and shook her head. "Don't even think about it! It's 20 bucks and not a penny less! If you can't afford it, then don't use it! It's not as if someone's pointing a gun at you for you to go to college!" My mother watched at the sidelines impassively. Then, she took Nancy's side. "She's right. You remember the rules. You can't use our stuff for free!" Time was running out. I barged into my room to scrounge for money. Fortunately, I finally found a dollar in the corner of my bed. Then, I charged right at the computer, ignoring Nancy's sullen mood. The notification froze me to my bones. "Application time is up." It expired just a minute ago. My eyes were glued to the screen, my blood turning to ice under my skin. I could distantly hear my mother comforting Nancy. "She's just some distant relative. You shouldn't get worked up over her." A surge of bitterness welled up inside me as I sent a message to my teacher, "I'll go to Lorantia." After all, I was nothing but a relative. So, I should know my place and stop troubling them any further.

The day I got the callback for my second interview, my mother, Sara Bingley, came home with two bags. "You're about to start your job for real, and that means dressing professionally. I bought you girls a suit each, one for each of you, fair and square." Molly Pitcher happily took her bag. Inside was a fitted, deep navy suit, sharp and clearly not cheap. What landed in my hands was an ill-fitting black suit pulled from the clearance rack, so oversized the sleeves swallowed the backs of my hands. Mom smiled and touched my cheek. "Cathy, you'll still grow. I bought it big on purpose. Give it two years, and it'll fit just right. I went to I don't know how many malls just to track down that black suit." She did love me, in her way. She knew my job required a black suit, and she really had gone to several malls to find one. But she'd forgotten I was already twenty-three. No amount of growing was going to fill out a suit that oversized and that cheaply made. Both daughters were her own flesh and blood, but Molly was plainly the one she doted on. The love she gave me came measured out in careful portions. The love she gave Molly overflowed. If that was how it was going to be, then from today on, I was done being the extra one in this family.

"You are a sick, twisted monster." My mother glared at me. The doctor frowned and recommended genetic testing, suspecting a rare disease. My mother only sneered. "Rare disease? She's mentally warped. She fakes being sick to get attention!" The noon sun blazed overhead. I huddled under the shade canopy, trembling violently, clutching my collar shut. Then my mother shoved the canopy aside and overturned it. She tore off my long coat and pushed me down onto the scorching sand. The intense UV rays seared through my skin in an instant. Huge blisters swelled up along my arms, then burst one after another. My mother stood there, revulsion all over her face. "Iris, have you no shame left at all, faking an illness like this? "You love lying down so much, then lie there in the sun until you die!" Mom, this time I really am going to burn to death.