เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉากHypocrisy Family Emotions

My younger brother and I shared one body, but we had two different souls. Ever since we were little, my family used a lottery draw each month to decide who would stay awake and who would fall asleep. The long straw was mine. The short straw was his. Whenever my brother was awake, our parents and older sister took him on vacations, road trips, and around the world to see places I had never seen. Whenever I was awake, they locked me inside the house and forced me to study day and night. I was the one who took the SAT. I was the one who faced every challenge life threw at us. But every time I succeeded, they would make sure my brother woke up next, so he could enjoy all the praise and rewards I had earned without lifting a finger. Everything changed the day my brother beat a local bully's son so badly that the boy ended up in the hospital. Carla made her decision without hesitation. "Tomorrow is the first day of the month anyway. Since we decide who gets picked, let's wake Harry and have him take the blame for Simon." My parents agreed without a second thought. Trapped deep inside our shared soul, I could only smile bitterly. Watching them protect my brother while turning me into his scapegoat filled me with despair. What they didn't know was that I had one chance to choose eternal sleep. With a broken heart, I made my decision. I would never again be my brother's stepping stone and scapegoat.

The day I finish my college entrance exam, I drag my suitcase back to my parents' house downtown. When Mom opens the door, the first thing she says is, "Now that your college entrance exam is over, stay home for a while." She says a while, not for good. There are three children in our family. My older brother, Samuel Stroud, and my younger sister, Isabelle Stroud, have always lived with our parents, while I was raised by my grandparents. Samuel has his own study, while Isabelle has her own bedroom. I sleep in the living room. Everything they give me is temporary. My toothbrush is disposable, my slippers are disposable, and even my towel is disposable. I don't even have a key to the house. "You don't come home often," Mom always says. "What do you need a key for?" So every time I come back, I stand outside the door like a guest, waiting for someone to let me in. But this time, they finally give me a key. Samuel places it in my palm with a smile. "We're going on a trip for a few days. You can stay home and get some proper rest." On the coffee table sit four plane tickets, neatly arranged in a row. They're for Dad, Mom, Samuel, and Isabelle—but not me. I look down at the key I've waited 12 years to have, and suddenly, I laugh. I finally understand why they gave it to me. It isn't a key meant to welcome me home. It's a reminder that it's time for me to leave.

Mom always said my entire life ran on luck. When I ranked first in my class, she said, "You just guessed really well." When I won a gold medal, she said, "The judges must've been blind." When I got into Westridge University, she told everyone, "This kid has no real ability, just good luck!" So on my first day of college, she tossed me a book of scratch cards. "Since your luck's so good anyway, might as well let it handle your living expenses too. "You get one book per semester. However much you scratch off is all you get. "And just so you can't come crying to me about being broke, I'm blocking you now. I'll unblock you next semester." With that, she ignored every one of my desperate pleas and blocked me on every single platform. I wanted to cry but could not even manage tears. All I could do was scratch two cards every day. On good days, I would win 20 to 50 dollars. Most days, I won absolutely nothing. I survived by sneaking expired cookies out of my roommates' trash. By the last week of the semester, I had developed severe anemia. As I used every ounce of strength to scratch the final card, I laughed. Mom was right. My luck really was incredible.

All because I talked to a girl from school, my parents decided I was too young to date and sent me to a behavioral correction camp over winter break. I spent 14 days there before they came for me. When Mom reached for my backpack, I flinched and dropped to my knees. "Mom, I'm sorry. I'll carry my own things. Please don't touch me. You're the opposite sex." Her expression soured. "I told you to watch out for girls out there, not treat your own mother like one of them." I kept my head down and said nothing, because responding to the opposite sex was also a violation. On the drive home, Dad noticed me sitting rigid and perfectly still. He laughed, pleased. "Look at him. He's so well-behaved now." "It worked even better than I expected. We'll have our family dinner tonight and send him back in the morning. They need to straighten him out for good." I said nothing. I just turned and looked out the window. There would be no tomorrow. Tonight was my farewell gift to them.

A lethal neurotoxin had taken hold of my lungs. My time is running out. My mother, Sofia, was the most connected lawyer in Palermo, excelling in burying crimes and twisting the law. When my brother Vincent mowed me down and shattered my leg, she called in every favor to clear his record. My father, Tommaso, the most feared private doctor in Sicily, faked my medical files, branding me unstable and delusional, all to mold me into the obedient son they needed. Then there was Lina, only daughter of Don Vitali, my wife. She said, “We let him out for Vincent’s liver. What if he says no?” Dad’s voice went cold. “He has two choices: lie quietly on that operating table… or waste away in the sanatorium for what’s left of his life.” I pushed the parlor door open, steady and slow. My voice was flat. “I’ll do it.” Every one of them let out a breath they’d been holding, showering me with hollow words. They didn’t know there was no life left to threaten. I had twenty-four hours. By sunrise, I would be dead either way. Funny… now that I’m in the ground, why are they all crying?

Mom had one rule, and she never let it go: one good deed a day. When I was little, I saved my allowance for an entire year to buy a doll. Then some girl beside me whispered that she wanted one too, and Mom ripped it out of my arms. "Do one good deed a day. Give her the doll." Later, I barely made it into the best high school in the county. I didn't even get to be happy before Mom told me she'd already signed me up for trade school. "Do one good deed a day. The girl who just missed the cutoff is poor. Give her your spot." Later, at trade school, my roommates stole every cent I had for food and rent. I called Mom, sobbing. "Do one good deed every day. Giving them your money still counts as doing something good." Later, I got a part-time job and ended up sold as a bride to some family way out in the sticks. I texted Mom, begging her to save me. Her reply popped up a second later. [Marriage means sticking it out. Give them a healthy baby boy, and that should cover ten years of good deeds.]

On the first day of school, I arrive alone to register, clutching my admission letter. But the security guard at the entrance chases me away. I angrily call my best friend, but he simply laughs on the phone. "Wyatt, you literally have glasses, and you can't tell? The admission letter you took was just a fake I made. The real one is still at your house." I immediately buy a ticket home and rush back, sweating anxiously as I search everywhere for it. But after looking for ages, I still can't find it. Then, my phone rings, and I hear Shane's carefree voice. "Wyatt, stop looking. I had Wendy bring your admission letter to you. She's in Linton." I immediately take the high-speed train to Linton. But just as I leave the station, I get a video call from Shane. "You idiot, you actually went looking for Wendy? I was just messing with you. Actually, the security guard didn't kick you out because your admission letter was fake. It was because I told them you were carrying explosives." As he speaks, he turns the camera toward Wendy Zahn, my childhood friend, who is fanning him. And behind her is my younger sister, who is supposed to be on vacation overseas. "Wyatt, why the long face? Can't you take a joke?" she says with a laugh. I stand there, completely stunned. So, my sister has used her vacation as an excuse just to accompany Shane to school. As I look at the smiling faces on the screen, I suddenly feel exhausted. They have played this game at my expense for 18 years. It's time to end it.

I'm only eight years old when two men try to abduct me. A teenage boy bravely rescues me from the human traffickers. It is only after he brings me to the police station that I find out I'm the daughter of the Garner family—and that he, Shane Garner, is my adopted older brother. The Garners organize a party to officially welcome me home. On the day of the party, Cassidy Garner, the daughter they've raised in my place, runs out of the house in a fit of anger and gets run over by a car. After her death, the Garners shut me out and refuse to even look at me. Shane is the only one who stays by my side. He becomes the only person I can count on. Then, on my 18th birthday, he ships me off to a psychiatric facility to be locked up. "If you hadn't told Mom and Dad that Cassie lashed out at you, they wouldn't have scolded her, and she wouldn't have run out of the house! You're going to stay right here and atone for her death," he declares. After five grueling years of torture, I finally jump off a building to end my suffering. Suddenly, I open my eyes again and find I've returned to my eight-year-old self. I've gone back in time to the day of my kidnapping. After seeing the anxious-looking teenage boy in front of me, I grip my kidnapper's hand and say, "They're not human traffickers! They're my family."

My mother-in-law Mindy was fanatically superstitious. When my daughter Amy came down with a high fever, she followed an old wives' tale and wrapped the child in three thick quilts, causing her to nearly suffer permanent brain damage from overheating. I immediately rushed Amy to the hospital and repeatedly warned Mindy not to feed her anything strange. The moment I stepped away to pay the medical bill, she forced "holy water" she'd gotten from a suspicious temple down my daughter's throat when she'd only been barely saved from death's door. My daughter had an adverse reaction, and she suffocated to death on the spot. Devastated, I tried to call the police to arrest Mindy, but my husband Sam insisted she had only meant well, and had told me to be more understanding. "Mom was just desperate to save her! You don't have to take it this far, we could always have another child!" Because of this incident, I ended up being diagnosed with severe depression. Mindy, however, was insistent that I'd been possessed by an evil spirit and called on an exorcist to perform a purging ritual on me, inflicting wounds all over my body with a whip. By the time I was barely clinging to life, my husband came home from work. When I tried to beg him to save me, he forced me down by my limbs. "Listen to Mom. Once the evil spirit is exorcised, you'll be all better." And so, I was beaten to death. When I came to, I returned to the day Mindy tried to "help" my daughter once more. This time, I would make sure they had a taste of their own medicine.

My dad is a player. After he succeeds in his conquest mission, he leaves this world… as well as four mothers to me. My first mom is an extremely wealthy CEO. My second mom is supremely famous for her work as the top actress. My third mom has stellar medical skills, whereas my fourth mom holds an authoritative and influential position. My four moms have spent the last 16 years doting on me endlessly. They would give me whatever I want. That is, until three years ago when William Carson, the son of their first love, returns to their lives. Since then, my moms have only trusted him, reserving all their distrust for me. When William accuses me of calling him a bastard filthier than that of a mutt who doesn't have the right to live at home, my moms make me live in a kennel and eat scraps like a true mutt. When William claims that I'm the one taking the lead to bully him at school, my moms decide to make me drop out of school. Then, they hire three delinquents to beat me up at home for three long months. When William tells my moms that I've shoved him once again, my moms lock me up in a cage and starve me for 72 hours straight in hopes that I will learn my lesson. Just when I'm on the brink of dying from starvation, I hear Dad's voice. "Henry, do you want to come back to me?"

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

I finally recovered my sight. Just as I was about to tell my parents about it, a slip of paper on the table caught my attention. "Don't tell your parents you've recovered your sight."

My father, Terence Locke, is covered in mud. He grabs my shoulders desperately, and his eyes are bloodshot. He says, "Emma, my company has gone bankrupt, and I accidentally killed a business rival. You have to run away with me." I believe him. Suppressing my fear, I follow him deep into the untouched mountains. To find food for him, I eat bugs and drink dirty water. When a pack of wolves closes in on our cave, my first instinct is to stand in front of him. "Dad, I'll lure them away. Run!" I look back at him one last time before finally making up my mind to trade my life for his. But after I leap off a seemingly bottomless cliff and fall to a pulp on the rocks below, I somehow "see" him inside a slowly descending helicopter. He is popping a bottle of champagne in celebration. At that moment, I finally understand everything. The whole desperate escape over the past few days that ultimately pushes me to sacrifice my life is nothing more than a reality show staged by him. He is merely putting on a performance, while I am truly dead...

I'm the fake heir, swapped at birth. The moment the truth comes out, everyone despises me. Only my childhood friend, Fallon Montrose, still treats me the way she always has. She even invites me to her birthday party. But that night, someone takes compromising photos of me. Fallon and my own biological sister, Joanna Cavanagh, both know the truth, yet neither says a word in my defense. It's all to get back at me on behalf of the real heir, Chase Elwood, who has quietly left home. The photos follow me to work. My coworkers freeze me out, my boss humiliates me, and I jump from the 18th floor. I don't expect to end up a crumpled wreck at the feet of Chase, the one who has been missing for three months. I expect even less that he turns out to be the only person who actually sheds tears for me at my funeral. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of the party.

The day my biological family comes to take me home, a car accident occurs. My parents and the fake son who had been living my life all die, but my sister, Kayla Bennett, survives. She despises me completely after that and blames the company's bankruptcy on me too. Desperate to make amends, I work over ten jobs a day, giving her every cent I earn so she can buy back the villa that has all our family memories. The day I finally save enough money, I discover my supposedly dead parents inside that same villa, celebrating Dylan Bennett's birthday. My usually cold sister is laughing warmly with them. As they bring out the cake, Mom mentions me. "Today's Nathan's birthday too. We've been punishing him for eight years now. Maybe we should bring him home?" Kayla cuts her off immediately. "We agreed on ten years to make sure he never suggests sending Dylan away again. Not one year less!" I clutch my medical report and laugh through my tears. But Kayla, I'm dying.

I've devoted everything to sponsoring my deceased best friend's daughter, Lara Sandfield, so that she can learn dancing for the past ten years. Thanks to my efforts, she's able to get into the most prestigious art school. My only condition is that Lara has to wear the dress that was sewn by her mother, Kiara Cruz, prior to her death, when it's time for Lara to perform her first dance after her graduation. But on the day of the rehearsal, Lara actually starts a livestream and cuts the dress into shreds with a pair of scissors. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she accuses me of using this torn, old dress to humiliate her and guilt-trip her for the past ten years. "Look, everyone! This is Eliza's so-called 'blood, sweat, and tears'! She wants me to perform my first dance in this bunch of rags! "I'm the principal dancer who has been nominated by a prestigious director! If I were to perform in this dress, it'd ruin my future! I no longer owe Eliza anything!" As I stare at the derogatory comments aimed at me in the livestream, I leave a like there quietly. The dress that Lara has ruined is actually woven by Kiara using gold threads back when she was still alive. The internationally-renowned mentor, whom I've spent a fortune hiring for the past ten years, is actually my older sister, Lucy Newman, who has already retired for many years. Meanwhile, the prestigious dance director has only given Lara the position of principal dancer because she respects Lucy far too much. I leave a comment of my own in the livestream. "I hope you have a glorious future ahead of you." I wonder how Lara can continue dancing, now that she's lost everything in life.

My cafe's sales have doubled recently. On the day before the celebration party, my younger brother, Ian Kingston, comes looking for me. "Vivian, I'm going to marry Louisa soon. We should dissolve our business partnership." He adds, "Louisa mentioned that she and I work better together as husband and wife. She intends to open a cafe with me so that we can spend the rest of our lives together. "Vivian, you'll marry into another family someday. This cafe is a business under the Kingston family, so you should withdraw from the partnership right away." Louisa Nott has yet to become Ian's wife, but she is already thinking of taking over the Kingstons' assets? I post an announcement on my family group chat right away. "My own brother decides to dissolve our business partnership because of his girlfriend, so I shall be opening a branch of my own. When the time comes, everyone here is welcome to my cafe to sample my food. It'll be completely free of charge!"

For ten years, I woke at three every morning to knead dough for my breakfast stall, all so I could put my daughter through college. Hot oil splattered across my arms day after day, leaving scars on my forearms that would never fully fade. But today, just when I desperately needed the money to keep my stall open, I discovered that the $200,000 in my bank account was gone. It was not until I got the bank statement that I learned the truth. My daughter had reconnected with her biological mother back in middle school. All these years, she had been secretly transferring money to her. When I confronted her over the phone, I cried so hard I could barely breathe. "That money was our retirement savings!" But she only laughed impatiently. "Stop saying you raised me. You didn't even give birth to me. My biological mother is the one who gave me life. Consider the money you spent on me your way of showing her respect." The call ended with a cold beep. It felt like a blade had been driven straight through my heart. I rushed home like a madwoman to find my husband. I thought he would at least feel sorry for us losing our retirement savings. Instead, he sat calmly on the couch and took a sip of coffee. "Blood runs thicker than water. Stop being so selfish." That $200,000 was the money we needed to survive. And he was actually lecturing me about blood ties, when he was nothing more than her adoptive father too.

On the day of my wedding, my parents suddenly show up at my house with my fiancé, Yoseph Caldwell. They say they've decided the bride is going to change. "Your sister's terminally ill, and her only wish is to marry Yoseph. You're her younger sister, so be generous and help her out." Yoseph chimes in calmly, "Don't worry. It's just a ceremony. Once she passes, you and I can still get the marriage certificate." When I refuse, my parents tie me up. "We'll let you out once the wedding's over." But not long after they leave, an intruder breaks in and brutally murders me. By the time they finally remember me, all that's left is my rotting corpse.

As part of our wedding-day tradition, my family hid me away in a closet. “Follow the tradition, and stay hidden! The wedding kicks off when your husband finds you!” My heart was full of happiness as I waited for him to find me, but suddenly, a fire broke out downstairs. Smoke filled the air. The closet was locked from the outside. I screamed and begged for help, only to hear my older brother shouting from outside. “Get the bridesmaid out first! She has asthma and can’t handle the smoke. My sister’s in a safe zone. She can wait a little longer!” The fire grew more intense by the second. I fought with all my might to break open the closet door. In my rush to save the bridesmaid, I broke one of my legs and collided head-on with my husband. He was a firefighter who had rushed in to rescue us. However, he frowned impatiently and stepped aside, avoiding me without hesitation. Then he scooped up the bridesmaid in his arms. “Stop making a fuss, Tammy! There are so many people watching outside. As captain, if I rescue you first, tomorrow everyone will accuse our family of abusing our authority for personal gain. Wait a little longer. The other team members will be here soon.” Thick smoke poured into my windpipe, scorching my throat. With the last of my strength, I called emergency services. But my mother, who was the director of the emergency dispatch center, decisively switched channels and secured a priority transport route for the bridesmaid. “Tammy, as a family member, you’ve got to be understanding. Don’t hog the priority route. Amelia was so frightened that she had an asthma attack. Her condition is more serious than yours. We can’t let personal feelings or favoritism interfere with our duty. Just wait patiently.” To avoid any suspicion of favoritism, they all considered it perfectly reasonable to put me last. What they didn’t know was that I had already suffered extensive, severe burns. I wouldn't survive.