Familial Bond Regret 短篇故事與小說

From a young age, I've known I was born to be a substitute for my deceased sister, Leah. On my 6th birthday, my parents take me to the market to choose a cloak for cubs. I excitedly spend ages choosing, then point at a silver one. However, Mom's expression shifts drastically, and she grabs me by the ear and screams like a madwoman, "Who told you to choose silver? Leah's favorite color can only be red!" When Dad sees Mom act up, he roughly yanks me away. I fall to the ground, hitting my head, and blood streams down my face. From then on, I desperately try to become more like Leah. No matter what I choose, I only choose something in red, the color she loved most. But one day, I break the pack's record and awaken my wolf ahead of time. Mom tears up my recommendation letter for the Werewolf Warrior selection in front of everyone and forces me to give up. "Leah didn't get chosen back then, so you can't get chosen either!" The surrounding werewolves try to stop her, but she viciously scolds them in return. "If Leah hadn't died, she wouldn't even have been born! What right does she have to become a warrior?" When I see the hatred in her eyes, I feel like I am at rock bottom. But Mom… Since you really want me to live like Leah, doesn't that mean I should also die in a fire like she did when she was 18?

During the Spring Hunt, my Alpha mate's adopted sister, Susie Blackwood, used the bow I'd designed for him to shoot two werewolves in the forest. The wounded were rushed to the healing center. Susie was so terrified she broke down in tears. Charles Blackwood immediately paid someone to take the fall for her, then booked two flights heading north. He didn't call to let me know until after he'd landed. "Susie's not in a good place right now. I'm taking her somewhere to clear her head. Stay home while we're gone, and don't bother me unless it's important! "She needs peace and quiet." I was standing outside the emergency room, so frantic that tears streamed down my face. "You need to come to the healing center right now. Your—" Before I could finish, Charles cut me off sharply. "Is this really the time for this? You're still pulling these jealous stunts! I'm not even in the pack right now. "Don't call me unless it's important." Then he ended the call. What Charles didn't know was that the ones lying on the operating table, the ones Susie had shot, were his parents.

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

After the semester began, all of my dorm mates wanted a part-time job. To fit in, I said I wanted one too. One by one, my dorm mates found part-time jobs, while I was still lazing around in the dorm. My dorm mate sent me a message. [How are you going to get by without a job?] I remembered a meme I'd seen online and texted back, "A kind middle-aged couple pays my bills, so I don't need a job right now." I didn't think much of it, until I stumbled across a post on social media. [My dorm mate said she wanted to get a part-time job, but all she does is lie around the dorm. When I asked how she could afford not to work, she said a married couple was paying all her bills. Should I report her for misconduct?] I thought it was funny. The comments gave her all kinds of advice. [Report her! What if she takes a scholarship spot from you?] [Exactly, get her expelled!] I still didn't think much of it until my academic advisor, Ethan Davis, showed up at my door. "Chloe, someone reported you for misconduct. They claim you're a sugar baby. Is that true?"

I was the biological son the Rhodes family had spent years searching for. Upon our reunion, all I wanted was to feel accepted. I learned to agree with everything they asked of me, no matter how unreasonable it sounded. Whenever they gave me an order, I followed it. I never questioned them. One afternoon, Reagan Rhodes, the boy who had lived as the Rhodes family's son in my absence, glanced at me and snarled in disgust. "You smell awful. Why don't you get inside the sterilization chamber and disinfect yourself?" I turned toward the industrial machine without hesitation. I stepped inside the chamber, closed the door behind me, and started the machine. My mom discovered me before it was too late. In a panic, she forced the door open and pulled me out herself. My entire body was burning, and my skin had turned an alarming shade of red. Jasmin Rhodes, my older sister, showed no sympathy when she saw me. Instead, she was visibly irritated. "Who are you trying to fool with this act? If you're serious about dying, just take an entire bottle of sleeping pills." I remembered every word. That night, I found a bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed it whole. Jasmin eventually kicked open my bedroom door. By then, I was no longer breathing. She stood frozen beside the bed, staring at my cold body while her hands shook uncontrollably. Some time later, Reagan slipped and scraped his leg. It was a minor injury, yet Jasmin immediately lost her temper with me. "If that leaves a scar on Reagan's leg, you'd better be ready to cut a piece of flesh off your own thigh to make up for it!" I grabbed a shard of broken glass nearby, pressed its sharp edge against my thigh, and cut into my flesh. My parents rushed inside moments later, screaming in horror at the sight of this. Jasmin threw herself at me and snatched the glass shard from my hand before I could continue. "I spoke in a fit of anger! I didn't actually mean it! Why would you even listen to me?" None of them understood what seven years in the mountains had done to me. Back then, defying an order never meant getting scolded or losing a few privileges. Disobedience had only one consequence: death.

Five years after my parents' divorce, I met my mother at school. She had just finished a parent-teacher meeting for her stepdaughter, who was the top student in the grade, and was beaming with joy. The moment she saw me, her expression darkened. "Do you always come to school dressed like this? This is how your father is raising you?" She handed me a business card and said in a condescending tone, "Take this. Tell your father that I'll enroll you in the international program right away if he's willing to admit his mistake. It's better than staying in the regular program and struggling." I did not take it and took a few steps back. "No thanks, Ms. Stroll." She frowned, her eyes filled with disgust. "You're utterly hopeless, just like your father. Don't ever tell anyone you're my son." I clenched the paper in my hand and calmly watched her leave. She had no idea it was not a report card. It was my withdrawal application from school after my father's death, because I had no one else to pay my tuition for me.

My mom is the kind of person who values achievement above all else. Consequently, just because I opened my eyes a little later than my twin brother, Alan Barton, when we were born, she decided I was the inferior twin—even treating me to watery baby cereal while Alan got the best of everything. From then on, Alan always came out ahead. The whole family bent over backward to give him every advantage, while I had no one to rely on but myself. After a lot of hard work, I finally achieved my goal on the SATs, beating Alan for the very first time. But when I arrived at the college acceptance party, Alan was already holding court and toasting the guests. When I broke down, sobbing and screaming at Mom over her blatant favoritism, Alan casually mentioned that he had already been accepted to Swafford College early and only took the SATs for fun; ergo, I still lost. Mom looked at me with utter disappointment, calling me worthless. Furious and heartbroken, I ran away from home. I put myself through college and built a career entirely on my own. Just as my life is finally starting to come together, I got diagnosed with cancer, threatening both my health and livelihood. After five years of complete estrangement, I swallow my pride to ask Mom for help. Instead, Alan steps in and destroys my last chance of survival.

Every month on the 15th is the day I swap lives with Melody Foster. 18 years ago, a hospital mix-up places our IVF embryos in each other's mothers. After the truth comes out, my biological parents want their real daughter, and my adoptive parents want theirs. They arrange for Melody and me to rotate between the two homes on a monthly basis, switching every 15th. From then on, I become the burden neither family wants. In whichever home Melody stays, there are endless snacks and drinks, thousands of dollars in monthly allowance, and the sunny bedroom is always reserved for her. In whichever home I stay, there's nothing but plain meals and a windowless storage room. 18 years later, I find out I have kidney failure, and Melody turns out to be a compatible donor. My adoptive parents toss me a form to sign away my right to treatment. "We raised you, and that's more than enough. Go ask your real parents for money. You're not getting our daughter's kidney, so don't even think about it." My biological parents fall to their knees, begging. "We know we've failed you, but losing you we can live with. Melody is our whole world!" Just then, I get a call from the hospital. "Sorry, we mixed up the records again. The one with kidney failure is actually Melody." Everything clicks into place. I sell the jewelry my grandmother left me, buy a camera and a full set of gear. From now on, I'll be a lone traveler, roaming wherever the road takes me.

Moving day. My parents passed out keys like candy—one for my brother, one for his wife, one for my younger brother's girlfriend, even one for Maria the housekeeper. Everyone except me. No explanation ever came. Not even as I dragged my suitcase out the front door, my family's laughter fading behind me. If a house had no place for me, it wasn't worth staying in. Three days later, at the airport, about to board my flight, I spotted them. Panic. All over their faces.

"Dominic, Julian, guess what I wished for?" A cheap, marked-down cake sat on the table. I closed my eyes and made a wish. When I opened them, the two chairs across from me were empty. That was when I remembered: my brothers didn't want me anymore. When I was ten, my brothers brought Leah Morgan home. She was the daughter of their late mentor, Professor Andrew Morgan, and they told me to treat her like a real sister. But little by little, Leah stole all their affection from me. I grew anxious, then competitive. I thought that if I were good enough, they might love me a little more. In the final round of a piano competition, Leah burst into tears after losing to me. Dominic comforted her. "In my heart, you play better than Heather ever could!" I ranked first in my school and won a scholarship, which cost Leah her place among the candidates. Julian went so far as to force the school to investigate whether I had cheated. At my eighteenth-birthday party, Leah fell from the second-floor balcony into the pool. She pointed at me. "Heather pushed me!" My brothers were furious. Without an ounce of mercy, they dumped me in the worst part of town. "We indulged you for too long, Heather. That's why you became so competitive. Now it's time you learned to rein in your jealousy." They even sent local thugs to my door to harass me and steal what little money I managed to earn. They thought I would learn my lesson. What they didn't know was that I had received an email offering me a full scholarship to the University of Zurich. I was about to leave for Switzerland, and I was never coming back.

In the sixth year of my relationship with Niklas Berg, he spent three hundred days a year in Inari, in northern Finland, doing fieldwork on Sámi culture and traditional crafts. I stayed behind in London, looking after his mother, Helena Berg, who had been bedridden since her stroke. The day I miscarried from sheer exhaustion, I was shaking all over with pain. I called him. Before I could say a word, he cut me off. "Signal's bad up here. The project's at a critical stage. Stop bothering me with every little thing at home." Then he hung up. I had always believed he was simply too consumed by his research to understand the needs of an ordinary relationship. That belief lasted until late one night, when I came across a promotional video for a Nordic traditional crafts exhibition on social media. In the video, Niklas, always so reserved and composed, was leaning down, fastening an heirloom silver brooch at the collar of a radiant young Sámi woman. The silver caught the light against her red-and-blue shawl, and his hands moved with such solemnity it looked like a ritual only the two of them understood. Someone off-camera teased him, asking if he planned to stay in the north forever. He looked at the girl, his voice low and tender. "Aila says this brooch is only given to the person she wants to share her life with. I'd gladly stay here for her." I closed the video. I didn't cry, and I didn't confront him. I simply signed the Helsinki transfer confirmation I should have signed long ago, then left my flat key and engagement ring behind in our home. His beliefs had never left room for me. So I would go and find a world of my own.

Adrian Mohr and I had been together for seven years. We'd tried to register our blood bond eight times and failed every single one. The first time, his father said the Mohr clan's nighttime shipping routes had been targeted by vampire hunters, and Adrian needed to attend an emergency family meeting. The meeting ran from dusk until the following dawn. He never showed up before the registry closed. The second time, my mother said she'd found hunters' silver markings outside our front door and insisted that leaving the house would expose the entire family. She blocked the doorway and even threatened that if I insisted on going, she would pull back the blackout curtains and step into the sunlight. The third time, my best friend, Claire Donovan, called me in tears, saying hunters were following her and she was hiding in a bell tower, too afraid to come down alone. I rushed to her side, and by the time we confirmed the area was safe, the registry had already closed for the night. ... The ninth time, we took care of everything ahead of schedule and got into a car with UV-tinted windows, heading to the registry through the underground tunnel. We had barely crossed one intersection when a black sports car shot out from a side street and slammed into us. The side window shattered, and a sliver of silver-coated glass lodged in my left shoulder. For most vampires, a crash like that was nothing, but silver suppressed healing. The wound burned immediately, and the bleeding wouldn't stop. Lillian Hart stumbled out of the sports car in a panic. She was my sister, a newly awakened vampire. She rushed to our car door, her face drained of color. "Oh God, I didn't mean to! Adrian, Eve, are you hurt?" Adrian grabbed her wrist first, checking whether she'd touched any silver. Only after confirming she was completely unharmed did he turn back to me. "Eve, looks like we won't make it to the registry today either." "Yeah. I guess not." I pressed my hand against my still-bleeding shoulder

At my bonding ceremony with Liam Jones, the pack witch appeared and dropped a bombshell—my long-lost sister, Victoria, was still alive. She could bring Victoria back, but there was a catch. She turned to my parents and asked: “Are you willing to trade Margret Davis for Victoria Davis? The two will swap bodies.” My parents' faces lit up with excitement. They didn't hesitate for a second. Yes. They said the only reason they had me was because Victoria had vanished, and their mind-link with her had gone silent. I'd spent twenty years living a life that was never mine, while my sister suffered for over a decade. This was what I owed her. Then the witch turned to Liam. Victoria had gone missing because she saved him—I knew that. But if he could just say no, even if it was a lie, even if he was just pretending… Then at least there'd be one person in this world who wanted me to stay. One last reason for me to hold on. A long silence stretched between us. Finally, he spoke. "She went missing because she saved me. I have to bring her back." He gave a firm nod. "Yes." Then the witch sprinkled a vial of purple liquid over me. She looked at everyone with a cold smile. "The potion takes time to work. In one month, Victoria and Margret will swap."

My father disappeared for seventeen years. The first time he surfaced, it was to offer me fifty thousand dollars for my bone marrow to save the daughter he'd had with his lover. My mother slapped me twice right there, demanding I refuse his dirty money. But I got into the car the Alpha had sent, handprints still burning on my face, and walked into his multimillion-dollar estate. They all thought I was so desperate I'd sell my own blood for cash. That changed when I pointed at the most expensive car in his garage and told my father, "Either restore my name to the Blackwood family registry or give me the car's value in cash: three hundred thousand dollars." "Your daughter needs my bone marrow to survive. My mother needs three hundred thousand dollars to stay alive." "If you can't part with the money, then watch her die." After that, everyone thought all I cared about was money. Only I knew the truth: I was selling my own blood to buy my mother a chance at life.

On the third day after I reunite with my pack, my family corners me in the mansion's living room. My adopted sister, Mia Ashford, holds several notes in her hand while sobbing her eyes out. "Layla, I know you hate me, but you're driving me insane with your death threats!" Every single note is covered in curses written in red. "Go to hell, you thief! You stole Mom and Dad away from me." Noah Ashford leaps to his feet and hurls the notes at my face. "Apologize!" he roars. "You think you can bully Mia just because you're my sister?" Mom embraces Mia, trying to comfort her. Dad, as the Alpha of the pack, finally speaks. "If you don't write a 1,000-word apology letter to Mia today and beg for her forgiveness, I'll kick you out of the pack," he says coldly. Safe in Mom's arms, Mia secretly flashes me a taunting smile. I stare at the scattered notes on the floor, utterly stunned. Could I really have written these when I can't even read?

The day of my mating ceremony with Alpha Kian, I arrived at the lake house villa—the venue we had chosen for our sacred ritual. My heart was pounding with anticipation. But when I pushed the doors open, the place was completely empty. I quickly mind-linked my parents. "Where is everyone? I'm at the villa, but it's empty. And my gown is gone." There was a heavy silence before my mother finally answered. "Freya... we temporarily changed the location." "Without telling me? Why?" "Isolde's wolf is fading," my father chimed in. "She is dying. Her last wish is to wear the Luna crown for just one day. So, we are holding the ceremony for her instead." "Freya, you're her only sister. Be the bigger person. Just let her have this." Even Kian, my Alpha, tried to soothe me over the link. "Don't worry, Freya. It's just a ceremony for her. A trick for the Moon Goddess. It'll just block our mate bond for a little while. We can have our real ceremony anytime after she's stable." I refused. It was insane. "You're being unreasonable, Freya," Kian sighed impatiently. "Just stay at the lake house and calm down." Then, they cut the mind-link completely. I was left all alone in the abandoned villa. Then the Rogues attacked. Wolfsbane burned the air. It choked my wolf. I couldn't scream. I couldn't fight. In desperation, I used our mate bond. I reached out to Kian with everything I had left. He just sighed through the bond. He thought I was throwing a tantrum over the ceremony. Then he severed the bond completely. When their fake ceremony was over, they finally remembered me. But all they found on the villa floor… was my body. Torn to shreds by Rogues.

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."

While a killer was dismembering me, my father was busy throwing a coming-of-age party for my adopted younger sister. When I called him for help, all I heard on the other end of the line was his venomous voice. "What kind of act are you putting on this time? If you want to die, hurry up and do it! Just stay out of my sight!" The next day, Dad went back to the police station to investigate a dismemberment case that had shocked the entire city. He gathered every clue the killer had left behind. What he never once suspected was that the body being pieced back together belonged to the biological daughter he hated so much.

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.

A typhoon warning had been issued. I drove out to pick up my mother, who lived by the coast. My car broke down halfway there. I called my boyfriend fifty-eight times, and every single one was declined. The rain kept getting heavier. No rescue services were available, and the water was rising. My hands were shaking so badly that all I could do was get Mom to a nearby bus shelter. That was when I scrolled past a Facebook post from my boyfriend's assistant, Megan. "Derek is such a sweetheart. Spent two hours searching, and the little stray finally has a home." In the photo, Derek was at Megan's place, giving a stray cat a bath. I looked at my mother, soaked to the bone, and a wave of hurt washed over me. By the time evening fell, my boyfriend finally called back, but the wind was so strong that the signal kept cutting in and out. I was about to ask him to come get us when his voice crackled through the receiver, broken up by static. "Don't let your mom... the seafood... mess up the car." Before I could say a word, he hung up. The rescue team arrived. As we climbed in, Mom was still shivering, fretting over the seafood that had spoiled during the delay. I picked up the bag and tossed it into the trash. If it's spoiled, there's no point keeping it. Same goes for people.