Plot Twists 短篇故事與 Hypocrisy Family Emotions 小說

My older sister Jenny and I both gained weight easily, so our mother made the decision that we could eat nothing but the diet meals she made. I followed her rules as best I could. I did not even dare drink an extra drop of water. But when I stepped on the scale a month later, I weighed three hundred pounds. I rushed into Jenny's room and found her in a tight dress posing in front of the mirror. She smiled at me. "Shannon, does this dress look good on me?" Then, I saw the number on her scale. I could hardly believe it. She was down to ninety pounds. I suspected something was wrong with Mom's diet meals, so I watched everything she did, from buying groceries to cooking. As soon as my meal was ready, I carried it straight to my room so that no one could do anything with it. Another month passed, and my weight climbed to five hundred pounds. Stretch marks covered my body, and my blood pressure reached two hundred. I lost my job because of my weight, my boyfriend dumped me without warning, and my health problems tortured me. I fell into deep despair. I refused to eat Mom's meals anymore and demanded that they take me to the hospital for gastric sleeve surgery. By then, I weighed eight hundred pounds. I had severe hypertension, high blood sugar, high cholesterol, and advanced heart failure. On the second day after the surgery, I died at home from a severe infection. When I opened my eyes again, I had regressed to the day Mom first started making our meals…

My younger sister and I shared a single body, though we each had our own souls. Ever since we were kids, our family decided who got to inhabit the body and who had to hibernate by drawing lots. I always drew the long stick, while Stella always drew the short one. Our family held a new draw every month. Whenever she was the one in the body, our parents and older brother would take her on vacations and road trips around the world. She got to see places I could only ever dream of. Whenever it was my turn to inhabit the body, they locked me inside the house and forced me to stay up all night, studying. I had to endure every hardship in life, from high school entrance exams to college entrance exams. Every challenge that mattered was my responsibility. However, whenever I succeeded, they made sure the next draw favored Stella. She effortlessly walked away with everything I had worked for. One day, she severely injured the daughter of a powerful local thug at school. My brother did not hesitate for a second to make the decision. “Tomorrow’s the first of the month, anyway. Since we’re the ones who decide the draw, switch Stella out. Let her wake up and take the fall for Stella.” Our parents did not object. Trapped deep within our shared body, I let out a bitter laugh. As I watched them protect my sister without a second thought and offer me up as the scapegoat, the last piece of my heart shattered. They did not know I had the choice to enter permanent slumber. I looked at them with a broken heart. From this moment on, I would never again live as Stella’s stepping stone or take the blame for her mistakes.

I emptied my savings to buy the home where my boyfriend and I were supposed to start our married life. On the first day after the renovation was finished, his mother appeared at the door carrying two overstuffed duffel bags. "Marcus said half of this house belongs to him, so we decide to move in here." I stood in the living room I had paid to renovate, staring at the jars of homemade preserves inside his mother's bags and at his younger brother swaggering toward a bedroom with his suitcase. Marcus Caldwell only smiled. "Jules, my mom has a bad back. I'll have her stay in the primary bedroom. If you can't put up with this now, how are we supposed to build a life together?"

When I heard my younger brother was bringing his girlfriend home, I took annual leave, bought gifts, and flew back for the occasion. The moment I arrived, I found my luggage dumped carelessly outside the front door. My parents looked surprised to see me, but quickly recovered. "Ryan's girlfriend only wants to marry an only child, so we've been telling people Ryan has no siblings. You need to stay somewhere else for now and introduce yourself as a distant cousin from now on. "Don't blame us. Everything in this family will belong to your brother eventually. A daughter leaves when she marries." As they spoke, Ryan tossed the last of my belongings outside as though they were trash. "Finally. All that junk was an eyesore." My fingers slowly tightened around my purse, which still held the heavy gold bracelet I had bought as a welcome gift. Fine. Since I was only a distant cousin, they could stop living in my house. I turned around and pulled out my phone. "Hello. I'd like to sell the house in Maple Gardens. List it twenty thousand below market."

At my daughter's high school graduation party, she greeted me with a bouquet containing her wish list. "My dearest Mom! "My life truly begins at eighteen! "This is the first step toward rebuilding my social image and starting an entirely new life! "Thank you, Mom, for supporting me completely!" The list tucked into the bouquet included the newest phone, tablet, laptop, and earbuds. Together, the smaller items cost more than five thousand dollars. But the final line, printed in bold red letters, stabbed into my eyes like the point of a knife: Helena Abernathy must give Chloe Collins a house free of charge. The property will be for Chloe's exclusive use, and no one else will be permitted inside. I stared at the bouquet, while the soul that had died unjustly in my previous life trembled inside my body. Last time, I carried that bouquet home and tossed and turned all night. In the end, I still tried to discuss it with my daughter. "Chloe, about the house... I truly can't afford it right now." "Could we possibly..." Chloe was silent for three seconds before accusing me through tears. "I knew it! You never loved me. You only love yourself!" My photograph, address, and workplace were posted across social media. Then came the online attacks, the doxxing, the red paint splashed across my door, and the suspension from my job. When I stood on a rooftop, unable to endure the abuse any longer, the people below kept recording and shouting: "Jump! If you aren't guilty, why would you jump?" This time, I looked down at the bouquet in my arms and smiled. I didn't want the list. And I didn't want this daughter anymore.

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me.

The day my admissions results came in, I ran into the living room with my laptop still open in my arms. "Mom, Dad, I got into Bedford University. Now I'll finally be in the same city as Derek and Grayson." No one answered. The living room was empty. A city-shaped magnet from Bedford was stuck to the fridge door. Grayson Whitfield had given it to me the year before. "Once you get in," he'd told me, "I'll take you all over the city." I'd held on to that promise like a lifeline, using it to push through one sleepless night after another. But now, three plane ticket order receipts sat tucked beneath that same magnet. Mom. Dad. My sister. Destination: Bedford. I stood there for a long moment before I noticed the new video posted in the family group chat. My brother, Derek Radley, was pulling my sister's suitcase along, smiling in a way I hadn't seen in a while. "Welcome to Bedford, Amber. Time to get you started on the Foundation Program." Grayson stood beside her, holding out a bouquet of sunflowers. "Is Claire going to be mad at me?" Amber asked, sounding small. Grayson only laughed. "She won't. She's sensible. She always is." My fingertips went cold, one degree at a time.

After faking amnesia, I looked my husband and son in the eye and asked, "Who are you?" My husband went quiet for a moment before he answered, "My son and I are here to see my wife. Sorry, we must have the wrong room." The second the words left his mouth, my son grabbed his father's sleeve and pulled him toward the door. "Bye, Ma'am. My daddy and I are going to go see my mommy." The room next door belonged to my husband's first love.

A category 5 hurricane has just torn through town, and Mom is out in the housing complex clearing floodwater when a 30-pound dead frond from a royal palm crashes down and shatters her spine. Four hours of emergency surgery later, the doctors tell me she'll never walk again. I storm into the mediation room with her bloodstained paperwork. The property manager, James Kendrick, is sitting there sipping a glass of scotch. When I demand the management company covers her medical bills, he refuses, then slams five photographs down in front of me. "Kid, you want to be real careful about throwing accusations around." He lets out a sigh, all patronizing and fatherly. "We had caution tape up before the storm. We set out traffic cones. Your mother walked right past all of it to dig through the trash. "That's trespassing and damaging the landscaping. Who's she going to blame but herself?" He slides a liability waiver across the table and tells me to sign. "Sign this, and I'll be generous enough to lend you 5,000 dollars out of my own pocket. Try to fight this, and our legal team will bury you." I look at his smug face, then pick up the photos from the floor. The caution tape is there, sure enough. But the flower bed next to it is full of azaleas in bloom, a variety that only flowers in April. It's the middle of July. I tear the waiver to shreds right in front of him. "Using photos from two months ago as your proof, Mr. Kendrick? I think you're forgetting something. "My family runs the shop right across from the complex entrance." Then I pull out my phone and open the cloud backup for our storefront's 24-hour HD security cameras.

When my wife, Juniper Carlsen, confessed to cheating on me with Frederick Byron, the man who faked his wealth, I decided to get divorced and moved back to my adoptive mother’s place. I ignored all of her pleas to remarry me. Then, my adoptive mother suffered a sudden heart attack. When the ambulance arrived, Juniper stood in front of me to stop me. “Malik, I know you hate Frederick. I'll have him flown out of the country as long as you get back together with me. I’ll do anything you say! “Are you going to let your mother suffer longer because of you?” When I looked at my dying mother, I clenched my teeth and yielded. Upon returning home, Juniper did as she promised. She did everything I said and even transferred the company shares to me. Even my biological parents, who previously antagonized me because of Frederick, were beginning to come around and dote on me. I was convinced that things had finally taken a turn for the better. Just as I was about to hand over the patent to her for her efforts in salvaging the company out of crisis, something unexpected happened. I stumbled into Juniper celebrating Frederick’s birthday at a restaurant. A three-year-old was seated next to him. My parents were present as well. They were handing the documents to transfer the family shares to Frederick. “Frederick, I'm so sorry you have to go through this. When will you be able to come back to us?” Frederick pressed his hand over my mother’s and reminded her cautiously, “Be careful. We can’t have Malik overhearing us. Did you forget how your husband almost let slip last time?” I froze. Then, I smiled before walking into the restaurant with the gift in hand.

Ever since Mom loses the baby, Dad has been spending his time keeping his late classmate's wife company. So I take scissors to our family photos, cutting him out of every single one. When Mom receives a call from my school, she overhears me telling a classmate that my dad is dead and asking if I can borrow theirs instead. Mom freezes for a moment before admitting, "Yeah, he died young." When family sports day rolls around, Mom catches me slipping a ten-dollar bill to the school guard, begging him to pretend to be my dad for the day. Instead of stopping me, she quietly hands the guard 200 dollars, making sure he attends the parent-teacher conference with me. Whenever an event requires a father figure, Mom simply lets me rent one. Eventually, it dawns on Dad that he hasn't heard anything from us in a long time. He clears his entire schedule for the afternoon to pick me up from school, but my teacher stops him at the school gate. Dad heads back home in confusion. The second he steps through the front door, he overhears me speaking to the maintenance guy. "My dad's dead," I tell him. "Do you want to be my new dad?"

My dad, who has gotten remarried and cut off contact with me years ago, suddenly sends me one dollar via Venmo, saying he wants to borrow my new car for two days. Thinking he wants to mend our relationship, I remind him to take good care of it before handing over the keys. That very afternoon, I stumble across a livestream of my half-brother street racing. The car he's driving is unmistakably my brand-new vehicle. In the livestream, the car is covered in crude graffiti, and the interior is a mess. I immediately take a cab over to stop my half-brother, only to be humiliated by him during our first meeting. "Who the hell are you? My dad says I'm his only son!" Only then do I realize that I no longer have a place in my dad's life. What they don't know is that the car is a gift from my CEO girlfriend. And she never lets anyone bully the people she cares about.

My name is Danielle Crawford. My younger brother, Darrell Crawford, is bringing his girlfriend, Vivian Gallagher, home for Thanksgiving. When she changes her shoes in the entryway and notices my pink slippers, she suddenly looks up and says sweetly, "Danielle, you're Darry's sister-in-law, right? I heard you've been a widow for two years. Have you… been living here this whole time?" Her eyes dart back and forth between Darrell and me. I frown, and I'm about to explain when she beats me to it. "Let's get one thing straight. Once Darrell and I tie the knot, you'll have to move out. I'm not going to let you stay here and act like you're Darrell's responsibility!" Darrell's face turns bright red. Looking at me awkwardly, he mutters, "Elle, Vivi didn't mean it like that—" I slap him across the face and snap, "A fallen officer's family is being insulted right in front of you. Are you blind or deaf?"

In my past life, my parents forced me to jump into a freezing lake just to retrieve a limited-edition watch dropped by the fake heir, Carter Reed. It left me with a 104-degree fever. I lay trapped in my bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Meanwhile, my parents flew the family to Miami for a vacation, just to cheer Carter up. As I lay dying, trembling uncontrollably, I managed to call my dad, Matthew Reed, only to be met with his sharp, impatient voice. "Tyler, your brother is finally in a good mood. Can’t you be considerate for once? Just find some meds and deal with it yourself, okay?" Left with no other choice, I forced my rubbery legs out of bed and dragged myself downstairs for medicine. My feet slipped, I tumbled down the stairs, and died right there on the spot. When my eyes snapped open again, I was right back on the very first day of summer break before senior year. Carter was waving that watch in my face. He leaned in close, whispering with a smirk, "You're gonna go get it for me, right? Dad said brothers are supposed to help each other." This time, before he could react, I snatched the watch straight out of his hand and hurled it into the center of the lake with everything I had. "Screw you, Carter. Screw this family. I'm out!"

My younger sister, Amelia Reinhart, is in her freshman year in high school, and she has severe asthma. She can't handle the wind and rain, nor can she stand the smell of car leather. Our parents are working three shifts at the factory, so they don't have time to send her to school and pick her up when classes are over. So, I spend 40,000 dollars on a minibus with heating, and I also hire a driver, Gary Brown, to handle Amelia's school commutes. I feel bad for Amelia, so I double Gary's pay and tell him to take extra care of her. But one stormy day, as I drive past the school intersection, I see Amelia completely drenched, coughing as she wades through the mud with great effort…

Everyone envied my parents. They said my mom and dad were young at heart, open-minded, free-spirited, and brave enough to chase their dream of making it as a band. What they did not know was that my parents' freedom came at the cost of my misery. They barely paid any attention to me while I was growing up. Whenever I was hungry, I ate at my uncle Connor's house. When I got sick, I dealt with it on my own. After struggling through more than a decade, I finally made it into college. But the full scholarship of 200,000 dollars I had just received was secretly transferred out of my account by my parents. Their reason was simple—their band desperately needed a new sound system. When I demanded an explanation, my dad casually said, "Lucas, don't get so worked up. We only did this to help you become more independent. Once our band makes it big and we start getting paid for gigs, we'll pay you back double." My mom nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Just because we had you doesn't mean we don't get to have our own lives. You can't be so selfish. Just think of it as helping us achieve our dream." At that moment, I finally realized how absurd it all was. If they loved this hands-off style of parenting so much, then from now on, I would treat them the same way.

My uncle had kidney failure, and I was a match, but I did not want to donate. I had looked it up online. Some donors ended up weak for the rest of their lives, stuck taking medication forever. I hated taking pills. Mom said that was all nonsense. A person could live perfectly fine with one kidney, she told me. It would not affect my life at all. She also said that if I did this one small favor for him, Grandma would finally love me the same way she loved my cousin. However, I did not even like my maternal grandmother. She played favorites. Grandma loved Uncle Oliver, so she loved his son more than he loved me. Every time we visited, Grandma and Grandpa fussed over my cousin and bought him all his favorite snacks while they handed me bruised apples. That was with Mom giving up most of her paycheck every month to take care of them. Still, if donating a kidney really was just a small procedure, then it was worth it to make Mom happy. I was about to sign the consent form when a wall of text appeared in front of me. [Does the main character in every second-chance story have to get screwed over and die before they grow a brain?] I would get screwed over and die? My hand froze on the pen. Another comment floated into view. [Wake up! If you donate that kidney, your health will be compromised for life. Say goodbye to every decent job. And nobody's going to thank you for it!] [And later, your mom's going to blame you for not having a good job, for not being someone she can show off to your grandma!] [She's going to clean out your savings and give it all to your uncle for some business scheme just to stay in your grandma's good graces. And when you try to get your money back? You'll be too weak to put up a fight. They'll literally beat you to death!] Mom frowned when she noticed me spacing out. "What are you dragging your feet for, Cody? I'm your mother. Would I ever set you up?"

"Ms. Clarke, you have successfully purchased a Final Memories recording package. We have arranged hidden cameras to record you anytime and anywhere. From this moment on, no matter where you go or what you do, everything will be secretly filmed until the day you pass away." The staff member handed the contract to Lila Clarke and asked her to confirm everything one last time. Without hesitation, she signed her name. The reason she ordered Final Memories was because she had been diagnosed with cancer. She had no more than one month left to live.

For Children's Day, I help source and purchase gifts for my son's class. I not only keep the budget to a minimum, but I also manage to get expensive toys that are way over budget for them. During checkout, because my son, Harry Chandler, has grabbed a limited edition toy robot, the PTA representative, Darren Larson, shouts at me, "Jordan Chandler, are you trying to tell me that you didn't embezzle the class funds for that 500-dollar toy robot?" The class teacher, Kevin Brown, and the manager of the toy store, Florence Young, immediately pause in their footsteps. I feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me in the mall. Darren complains animatedly, "You were trying to pay for that 500-dollar toy with the class funds, basically using everyone's money to spoil your son, weren't you? "Both Mr. Brown and the manager are right here, but you still dare to pocket our money? I can't imagine how much of the class funds you must've used to line your own pockets behind our backs! I daresay, for someone with no morals like you, the children you raise will be thieves in the future too!" Darren glares maliciously at me, looking me up and down. Even Kevin is giving me a look of suspicion and disdain. Instead of arguing with him, I turn to the cashier and ask in a calm tone, "My family owns this mall. Do I need to pay for a toy I just grabbed off the shelf?"

My younger brother, Leroy Graham, ended up becoming deaf and mute following an accident that occurred after his university entrance exam. Since then, his fiancée, Emilia Barton, communicated with him exclusively through sign language. I handed him money and told him to get his driver's license, then assured him I would pay for his university tuition fee. Emilia translated it as, "Your sister is mocking your disability and says you can't even drive.” When he picked up a summer job at a construction site, I had Emilia ask him to quit the construction work and work as an intern at my company instead. Again, she had twisted my words, "Your sister says she would be embarrassed to have you work at her company and that you're only good for construction work." At one point, he got into an accident at the construction site, which ended up crippling his legs. I cried out through the ICU glass, "Leroy, the doctor says it’s still possible to recover from this. I’ll spend everything I have to pay for your surgery!" Emilia looked at my brother, frowned, and signed to him again. "Your sister says that even if they performed surgery on you, you’d still end up being a burden to her. She wants you to sign the consent form to get amputated to make her life easier." My brother glared at me, biting his lip so hard it bled.