Ruthless Familial Bond 단편 소설 & 소설

I'm born with severe allergies, the kind where a whiff of pollen can trigger a full-blown asthma attack. But my mom, who is also the principal of my school, insists that I go on a field trip to the botanical garden with the rest of my class. I plead with her, my eyes reddened, but she stays as cold and hard as ice. "You've got all your meds, don't you? It's just a little thing. Why are you being so dramatic? I'm the principal, so I have to treat every student the same. If anything, you have even more reason to go, so people don't think I'm playing favorites!" To show what a good relationship I have with my classmates, she publicly commands me to get into the flowerbeds and pick flowers to be given to the top student in our grade, Rachel White. The moment I get close to the flowers, I start coughing and wheezing violently. A crushing sense of suffocation floods over me. Mom doesn't look worried in the slightest. Instead, she bites out, "Penelope, how long are you going to keep this act going? You're doing this on purpose to cause trouble for me and embarrass me, aren't you?" She has no idea that my throat is already swelling and closing up. Every breath I take feels like I'm swallowing broken glass. It looks like I won't be a problem for her anymore.

When the university announced a nine-day break, my roommate started booking their tickets home on their phone while I was busy answering trivia questions on mine. This was my family rule. I had to answer questions to earn my allowance. There were ten questions, and every correct answer would get me $2. There were four levels for the trivia, which were Beginner Level, Intermediate Level, Advanced Level, and Expert Level. I did the trivia for seven years, from high school until my second year of university. One morning, my father, Norm Livingston, texted in the family group chat. [Whoever gets all ten questions correct, I'll pay for the ticket home during Thanksgiving.] I tried hard to suppress my excitement as I focused on answering the questions, but I got one wrong. I texted the results to Norm with clenched teeth and begged, [Dad, the questions this time were really difficult, but I got nine right. The train ticket is only $50. Can you cover it for me?] However, Norm replied right away with a voice note, and he berated me. "The rules are the rules. Look at your brother. He got all ten questions right and won himself the flight ticket. You should work harder to improve your knowledge. Stop thinking about having fun all the time." My younger brother, Ezra Livingston, texted the group with a screenshot of Norm transferring him the money for the ticket. [First-class ticket worth $1,000 to come home to your family.] The text was followed by another text from my older sister, Edith Livingston. [I specially set your questions at Beginner Level for you.] I stared at their texts and looked at my questions, which were at Expert Level, and I called my counselor after that. "Is it too late to submit my application to Gerasia as an exchange student?" I no longer wanted to reunite with my family during Thanksgiving.

When I was having a heart attack, my parents, my brother, and my fiancé were all at our family casino—celebrating Eva, our adopted daughter, at her twenty-first birthday, her official debut into the mafia world. The doctor refused to operate without a legal guardian’s signature. So I called them. My father’s assistant answered. “Sorry, Miss. The Don is in the middle of a toast.” My brother and mother let it ring until it went silent. Finally, my fiancé, Adam, picked up. Music roared behind him. I could hear laughter, glasses clinking. “Cecilia,” he said, impatient. “If you can’t even show up for Eva’s party, stop causing trouble. Today is Eva’s debut. Every Don from three territories is here. Whatever drama you’re playing can wait.” I lost count of how many times they chose her over me. So after this call, I stopped calling. I signed my own name. My family thought I’d finally learned to be obedient. But they should’ve known that in our world, silence only means one thing—I was preparing to disappear for good.

Since birth, my parents have been using a pain-transfer system on me, leaving my body covered in scars. It's all because my older sister, Luna Carter, has albinism and an unusually severe sensitivity to sunlight. Even brief exposure can cause serious damage to her skin. The doctor predicts she won't make it past 16. However, Luna loves to play and often sneaks outside, leaving her skin festering. Dad works tirelessly and finally earns enough money to buy us two pain-transfer wristbands. For six years, all the pain Luna suffers from sun exposure is transferred to me. "Stella, I'm sorry. I just want Luna to be happy in her final days. My good girl, Stella," Mom says as she holds me and gently tends to my wounds. On New Year's Eve, Mom and Dad take Luna outside. The sun is scorching. The moment they step outside, blisters break out all over my skin. I can't help crying out in pain. Suddenly, Luna rips off her wristband and breaks down in tears. "Does it hurt? If it hurts so much, then stop transferring the pain. I'd rather die from the pain myself! I'm only going to live until 16 anyway! It makes no difference whether I die sooner or later!" In an instant, Luna collapses, burns covering her body. Mom shoves me to the ground, yelling. "Luna has endured this pain for so many years without a single complaint! You've only borne her pain for six years, and you can't even handle that? She'll only live until she's 16. I just want her to be happy! What's wrong with that?" Dad picks Luna up and says to me, "I hate seeing you suffer too, but the pain can only be transferred between biological sisters." With that, they rush Luna to the hospital. I pick up the wristband from the ground, and a prompt pops up. "Do you wish to transfer your lifespan to another party?" Without hesitation, I tap "Yes".

A priest has shown up at my first birthday party. He claims that I'm a cursed soul—that my presence will bring doom to those close to me, and my existence itself can snatch everyone's luck. The only way to counter this is to give me up to an orphanage and let me live a life of poverty and suffering. Without a family, I'll be able to overcome my fate as a cursed soul. Daddy has the priest cast out of our home immediately. Meanwhile, Mommy hugs me tightly. "My son is the luckiest boy in the whole wide world!" But everything has changed when my younger brother, Andy Lawson, has fallen off the 20th floor. His body is completely shattered from the fall. I can only stand by the window uneasily. Fear is evident in my eyes as I wave my hands with all my might. "It wasn't me! It really wasn't me!" The wind that day is very strong, but it can never drown out Mommy's cries. Daddy hoists me up and stuffs me into Andy's coffin. I keep latching onto the sides of the coffin to the point my fingers are all bloodied and trampled over. At the same time, I keep screaming for Mommy. Mommy stares at me blankly at first. But her hollow gaze is soon filled with hatred. "Why aren't you the one dead? That priest told us that you'll have to stay in the coffin for seven whole days and nights just to atone for your sins! Only then can Andy's soul rest in peace! "This is your fate and your sin, Adam!" The heavy lid slowly covers the coffin, soon sealing my hoarse cries and screams away. A long time later, a few voices ring out amid the sorrowful melody played by the organ. "Why is there a tiny gap in the coffin? Hurry up and nail it shut! We can't afford to have misfortune spread to us!" When the final nail is bolted onto the lid, I close my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, I'm no longer a cursed soul.

Just because I left a window cracked for half an hour, my younger brother caught a cold and ran a raging fever in the middle of the night. Enraged, Mom locked me inside a freezing, thirty-below cellar. "How on earth did I give birth to a cold-blooded monster like you?! You won't be happy until you've killed your own brother, will you?! Since you love the cold so much, get your butt down there and cool off!" Down in the dark, I sobbed and begged Mom for mercy, but the biting cold slowly drained every bit of warmth from my body. Mom didn't care in the slightest. "I'm starving you for three whole days to teach you a lesson! This is what you get for being a jealous brat!" My brother's fever broke the very next morning. To make it up to him, Mom took him on a three-day trip to an amusement park. When Mom finally came back, standing at the top of the cellar to demand if I had learned my lesson, all she received was endless, deafening silence. Because I had already been dead for three days.

On my little brother, Clover Shaw's birthday, I tear up my stomach cancer diagnosis report and use the money I've saved for treatment to buy him the gift he's been talking about for ages. But when I wake up in the early hours of the night while coughing blood, I hear the disdain in his voice. "That piece of crap he bought is just 5,000 dollars. It's not even worth as much as my cheapest game! Who would want that garbage? "He's such an idiot. It's been over 20 years, and he still hasn't figured out that we've been playing poor. He's out there working himself to the bone to scrape together my tuition fees! On top of that, he stinks so much every day! It's disgusting! Mom, who has always called me the backbone of the Shaw family, angrily speaks up. "He deserves it! You wouldn't have ended up in the ICU right after you were born just because he stole all your nutrients in the womb. You'd grow up to be young and healthy. "The fortune teller was right. He's nothing but a leech, and if we don't find ways to torture him, he'll only make your life suffer." While I collapse on the floor, tears stream down my face nonstop as I stare at the blood pooling in the trash can. "Don't worry, Mom. You won't have to fuss over my future because I won't have one…"

After days of torture at the hands of my family’s rival gang, they offered me one last phone call. I called my brother, Matteo. I just wanted to say goodbye—while I still had the chance. “What is it now?” he snapped. “Matteo, I—” He didn’t let me finish. “Fix your own mistakes. Until then, don’t call me again.” Death didn’t hurt as much as those words did. I felt my heart slow to a stop as my brother’s words echoed in my ears. I guess you’re finally at peace now, Matteo. I won’t bother you again. And you’ll never have to see me again.

Three years after my parents’ divorce, I ran into my sister while I was performing on the streets. She stepped down from a city management vehicle and froze for a moment when she realized the person working so hard to breathe fire was me. She walked toward me, her steps slightly uneasy. “You’re affecting public order. You’re coming with us.” After I finished giving my statement, my mother arrived too. She paid my fine for me, then handed me a bank card. “Stop embarrassing yourself out here. Take this money and find a school to attend again.” I did not move. When I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and unpleasant. “Where were you when Dad and I needed you the most?” My harsh words made my sister frown. “Everyone had their own struggles back then. You don’t have to blame Mom for everything.” My mother’s expression darkened as she began lecturing me, “Why are you just as stubborn as your father? If you had come with me, would you have ended up begging on the streets? Tell your father that as long as he admits he was wrong, I’ll acknowledge you as my son again.” I looked at them, but the words were stuck in my throat. Did they really not know that my father had already died three years ago?

The day I was admitted to Crownstone College, my parents threw a thirty-table banquet to celebrate my younger brother, Jason. There was a banner across the hall. [Congratulations to Jason on getting into vocational school. You've brought honor to the family.] When it was time to cut the cake, Jason made a wish in front of all the guests. "I hope my sister gets married soon and stops wasting the family's money." The relatives raised their glasses and praised him for being so sensible. Dad beamed with pride. "A boy who learns a trade has a solid future. Unlike a girl, no matter how much she studies, she'll end up getting married anyway." I sat alone in the corner. The doctor had diagnosed me with severe depression and warned that I couldn't handle any more emotional shocks. My parents said I was bad luck. They told me not to have another episode and ruin my brother's celebration. I nodded, picked up my medical report, and walked to the rooftop of the hotel. Right then, my phone rang. On the other end were my parents from eighteen years ago. My young Dad laughed through tears. "It's a girl! We have a daughter!" My young Mom's voice trembled. "Sweetheart, I just gave birth to you. "Did our child grow up feeling loved by us throughout all eighteen years?" Listening to the applause from the banquet hall below, I laughed until I could barely breathe. "Yeah, you loved your child very much. "It just wasn't me." "What do you mean? Jess, don't scare me–" I smiled in relief but didn't answer her. I could hear fireworks from below. It sounded like they were celebrating my disappearance from this family. I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and jumped.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

My father, Henry Carlton, is a genius painter. My mother, Candace Mills, is a world-class dancer. Dad says Mom is his muse. To marry her, he gives up a family fortune worth hundreds of millions. Everyone is moved to tears by their beautiful love story. But on the day I am born, Mom is left paralyzed from childbirth and can never dance again. While taking care of me as I cry day and night, Dad does everything he can to help Mom recover. One day, he disappears. All he leaves behind is one letter accusing Mom and me of destroying his inspiration. He says we are the ones to blame. My helpless Mom holds me in her arms as I do nothing but cry. She becomes convinced that if I can become Dad's new muse, he will come back. So, she pushes herself through grueling rehabilitation and devotes everything she has to training me. When I win the silver medal at a national dance championship, Mom finally sees Dad again. Dressed in an impeccable suit, he carries himself with the confidence and air of a wealthy man. He has one arm wrapped around one of the competition judges, and the two of them are openly affectionate with each other. Unable to take the sight of him with another woman, Mom runs out. While chasing after her, I tumble down a flight of stairs. When I finally limp back home, Mom is waiting for me. She grips a stick tightly with a dark look in her eyes. "If you can't become a muse, then what good are you?"

My sister, Emily Statham, "accidentally" spills a pot of scalding Cajun gumbo onto my leg. I'm in so much pain that I roll around on the floor, but she cries harder than I do. Mom hugs and comforts her. "It's okay, it's okay. Your sister's tough." My fiance, Elliott Gray, glances over at me and says, "Just rinse it with some cold water. Stop embarrassing yourself." Comments in gold float past my eyes. [Emily just loves her sister so much that she got overexcited!] [And the mother just has a sharp tongue. Deep down, she's actually devastated!] [The male lead is just weird that way. He cares, but he's too shy to show it in public!] I look down at the blisters already forming on my leg. For the first time, I wonder if it's not the commenters who are blind. Maybe I am.

Kendra McCullough, the daughter of Crown City's wealthiest family, the Sterlings, was married to Conor, the young heir of the rising McCullough family. When Conor became entangled in a kidnapping case involving an astronomical ransom, someone bet ten million that he would be rescued in just three minutes. After all, the Sterling family was the richest in Crown City. Money was the one thing they had no shortage of. Yet, against everyone’s expectations, the kidnapping dragged on for seventeen full days, with the ransom negotiations continuing to drive the amount down. Every day, the abuse escalated. Conor was stripped naked and beaten until he was covered in bruises and wounds. He was strapped to an electric chair and shocked repeatedly. Finally, the kidnappers tied him to the back of a car and dragged him along. After he lost consciousness from the pain, they threw him into a lake. The kidnappers sent a video to Kendra and Conor’s father, threatening to kill Conor if they didn’t pay. But the two remained adamant, insisting they would pay only a hundred dollars in ransom. When the kidnappers realized they couldn’t get the money they wanted, they changed tactics and kidnapped Conor’s older brother, Damon. Unexpectedly, within just seventeen seconds, Conor’s father and Kendra paid a ransom of ten billion dollars. After rescuing Damon, they wiped out the kidnappers’ entire hideout within half an hour.

After my older sister Rachelle came home from dialysis, the atmosphere at home was suffocating. She curled up on the couch, thin as a rail. She was nagging me hard and telling me not to tire myself out too much at work. Dad was by the door smoking. To get money to treat Rachelle’s condition, he had sold our old house and land. Dirty and muddied, my fiance, who had always viewed Rachelle as a sister of his own, brought home his week’s salary. They all lamented how unfair life was to already poor and suffering people who had to suffer even more. I looked at myself in the mirror with my bleeding nose and flushed away the report with my acute leukemia diagnosis. During dinner, Dad suddenly said, “Ryleigh, Rachelle needs a kidney. You’re healthy and young. You might be a match.” I looked at Rachelle’s pleading eyes and coldly put my cutlery down. “I won’t do it. I’ll be a cripple with one less kidney. How am I supposed to find someone to marry then?” Dad slapped me hard, even as my fiance called me ungrateful. I slammed the door shut as I left. I looked for the nearest room to the hospital to rent so that I could wait it out until I died. The room I found was only five blocks away from the organ donation center.

Two weeks ago, my family and I went hiking and camping. When the storm hit and the mudslide erupted, my adopted sister shoved me into a ravine. My parents and fiance only cared about my sister. They remained completely unaware of my predicament. A week later, when the rescue team finally finds me, my parents accuse me of being selfish and malicious.—— "You clearly know that your sister is suffering from a terminal illness and is about to die, yet you still try to murder her!" they yell. "The bride for next week's wedding will be your sister. She has end-stage kidney cancer, and her dying wish is to marry your fiancé.Ethan. You have to agree to this!" "I agreed to their wedding, and for atonement. I am willing to donate my kidney to my sister, and I will also give her all the academic papers I own and the oil paintings I have collected." Seeing how sensible I was, my parents and my fiance all smiled with relief. They said, "I've grown up and become sensible. I'm no longer that willful elder sister who didn't know how to care for my younger sister." In my final three days, I will give them everything they want and leave behind a perfect image. And when I die, I hope they won't cry, mourn my death；

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.

My sister pulled a knife during a robbery attempt, and we got into a brutal fight. My mom, an auxiliary police officer, arrived at the scene but totally ignored my injury. As I lay in a pool of blood, begging for help, she just cradled my sister and yelled at me, "You're so desperate for attention that you'd hurt your sister? How did I raise a heartless monster like you?" She branded me as the aggressor, ignored my pleas, and rushed my sister, who had mere scratches, to the hospital. I was left alone to die miserably in that deserted alley. When the news of my death arrived, my mother dismissed it as another one of my lies, pointing at my body and demanding I get up to apologize to my sister.

A group of thugs dragged me into an alley. In a panic, I called my boyfriend thirty-nine times, only to have him decline every single call. My whole body trembled as I struggled desperately to break free. Just as they were about to strip me naked, laughter suddenly erupted around me. One by one, they removed their masks and caps. I looked up stiffly and saw that every one of them was someone close to me. My younger brother, Caleb Bennett, scoffed. "This is hilarious, sis. You should've seen the look on your face. Did you seriously think someone was stalking you?" My older brother, Adrian Bennett, teased, "How are you still this easy to scare after all these years?" My best friend, Maya Grant, smiled at the girl beside her. "See, Jenna? I told you she was a coward, but you didn't believe me. Do you believe me now?" I followed her gaze to Jenna Gale, the woman Blake Carter had always carried a torch for, who had just returned from abroad. She stood behind Blake, looking at me with feigned innocence. "I had no idea you were really this easy to scare, sis. "No wonder you guys do this every year, Blake. It's actually pretty fun." Blake remained completely indifferent, never once looking at me. "If you like it, we'll do it again next time." I stood frozen, my entire body went cold. Only then did I realize that this was yet another one of their pranks meant to toughen me up. Two years ago, they locked me in a pitch-black room and told me ghost stories, leaving me plagued by nightmares for an entire month. Last year, they put dead snakes and rats in my bed. I was so terrified that I collapsed and went into convulsions. Today, one more person had joined them in tormenting me. It suddenly occurred to me that it was time to put an end to this farce once and for all.

My mother-in-law threatened to teach me a lesson about wasting money. While I was visiting my parents, she planned to team up with my sister-in-law and livestream themselves dumping my expensive skincare serum, worth thousands of dollars, down the toilet. "Once a woman gets married, she should learn to be frugal and take care of her household! This stuff is ridiculously expensive. Today, I'm dumping every last drop just to hear it splash!" "My sister-in-law is so vain! Mom is teaching her how to be a good wife!" "Going live at 2 pm sharp! We are cleaning out that wasteful woman's vanity!" The moment I saw the announcement in the family group chat, I started panicking. I immediately called my husband, Chester Lloyd, and begged him to stop them. "Stop your mother! Don't let her pour the stuff in those bottles by the sink down the toilet!" Chester sounded completely unconcerned. "What am I supposed to do? My mom can't stand watching you waste money. "They are just a few bottles of skincare products. So what if she dumps them? Why get upset with an older woman over something so trivial? "Once you learn to stop wasting money and start living frugally, I will buy you a cheaper set." I was frantic. "But ..." Before I could finish, Chester hung up and went back to his video game. The problem was, what she had taken was not skincare serum at all. It was highly concentrated industrial sulfuric acid, the kind that could trigger a violent explosion when it came into contact with water.