Ruthless Family Emotions の短編小説 & 小説

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

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.

When I was three years old, my parents became infamous in our social circle as a mutually destructive couple for a misunderstanding that led them to cheat on each other. To get revenge on each other, they didn’t hesitate to hurt me just to hurt one another. Over the next five years, my mother beat me until my bones broke three times. My father “lost” me on purpose five times. And once, during one of their arguments, they threw me straight into the ocean. Eventually, they grew tired of that life, but instead of stopping, they changed the game. They got divorced, and each of them adopted a new child, showering them with affection as if it were some kind of competition As for me? I became the unwanted piece of trash. The only time I mattered was when they thought of each other, and they needed someone to take their anger out on. The only thing that kept me going was a small locket pendant they gave me when I was born. Engraved on it were the words: peace and joy. It was the only source of comfort I had. That was until I turned ten and someone tried to take this last piece of something that felt like it belonged to me away from me. I fought back with everything I had, and for that, I was beaten until my spleen ruptured. By the time my parents arrived, the ground was soaked in blood. However, their faces twisted with disgust. “Daisy, how did you end up like this? You’re just as disgusting as your father.” “What did you say? Say that again! Just look at her, dressed like that. If anything, she’s just as shameless as you!” My cries for help were drowned out by their argument. My body grew heavier and heavier, and before I realized it, the world went quiet. They finally stopped arguing, too.

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?

The day of the wedding, Enzo's first love Lucia showed up at the estate in the same custom gown I was wearing. I watched them greet the guests together. Kept a straight face and told them they made a much better match. Lucia ran off crying on the spot. Enzo called me jealous in front of every family guest at the ceremony. After the reception ended, he took Lucia on our honeymoon. I didn't argue. I just had my lawyer draw up divorce papers.

The day my parents divorced, I turned my back on the mother who loved me and clung desperately to my cheating father. In my previous life, I chose my mother without hesitation. Because the family never accepted me, she spent the rest of her life suffering for my sake, enduring endless scorn and hardship. This time, as I looked into her heartbroken eyes, I walked away without a backward glance. Five years later, I was scraping by at a seafood market, spending my days gutting fish amid the stench of saltwater and blood. Just as I expertly sliced open a fish's belly, my mother appeared. Her heels clicked across the damp floor as she navigated around puddles left by melting ice and approached me. She covered her nose in disgust, looked me up and down in my stained, shabby clothes, and let out a cold laugh. "No matter how hard you wash, you still reek of fish. This is the life you chose when you picked him over me. “The Cooper family's notorious young heir is about to form an alliance with our family through marriage. “As long as you kneel and beg me, I'll give you a chance to live a better life. What do you think? “You know I always mean what I say.” The contempt in her voice was unmistakable. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat, flashed a carefree grin, and stepped closer. “Not only am I not kneeling, but you’ll have to kiss me first if you want me to go.” Just one kiss would be enough to get me through the last month of my life.

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.

After finding out that the city is flourishing with countless opportunities, Florence Chastain drinks far too much out of elation. She begins stumbling toward the home of Gerard Vertes, a widower, in her drunken haze. Even though I have a crush on her, I choose to ignore her. In my previous life, I was worried that Florence might submit to her carnal urges due to intoxication, which might lead to her losing the golden opportunity of moving to the city. So, I rushed over to stop her. But Florence was quick to yank the hem of my shirt while begging me to satisfy her urges. After the wild night, she got pregnant with my child. In order to preserve Florence's reputation, her parents forced her to marry me. After our marriage, Florence was cold and aloof toward me and our child. She'd beat us up from time to time, too. "If not for your busybody tendencies back then, I wouldn't have married a country bumpkin like you! With talents like mine, I'd definitely have made it big in the city!" The daily torment had me physically and mentally strained. In order to make life easier for this family, I borrowed money from various sources just to rent a general store. That way, we'd have steady income. But Florence had the audacity to lock me up at home when our son was down with a high fever. I begged her to save our son, only to get beaten up by her ruthlessly instead. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night Florence is making her way drunkenly toward Gerard's house.

My husband, Leon Hobbs, calls me to tell me that his grandma, Phoebe Reid, has forgotten to bring her blood pressure medication, so he wants me to deliver it to her. "Hurry up, Elsie! Grandma's blood pressure is spiking again! You're the one who's closest to her right now!" With the medication in hand, I've just reached the corridor when comments pop up on my phone out of nowhere. "Don't go! The old lady will die in the living room ten minutes after you enter the apartment!" "The blood pressure medication has been swapped out for poison, and your prints are on the bottle! Everyone will think that you're the one who poisoned the old lady!" "Your husband and your mother-in-law have left the apartment purposefully so that you'll be the only one facing the old lady's corpse! Then, they'll use the assets that you and the old lady have left behind just to buy a new home for your husband's pregnant mistress!" I remain rooted to the spot as I stare at the bottle of medication. Leon had passed it to me last night, claiming that it was a bottle of newly prescribed medication. He wanted me to keep it for Phoebe for the time being. My fingerprints are all over the bottle at this time. Three seconds later, I turn on my heel and head toward the nearest pharmacy. Then, I place the bottle of pills on the counter. "Please help me check whether or not this bottle of medication fits the label."

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?"

I suffer from a rare lung disease and depend on a ventilator to stay alive. My dad, Wesley Lowe, works three jobs and saves up enough money to replace my old machine with an imported one. The new ventilator is already relatively very quiet. Even so, my mom, Keira Sheeran, still thinks it's too noisy. She says the sound keeps waking her up at night and reminds her that I am like a bottomless pit. One day, my newborn baby brother, Jasper Lowe, won't stop crying. The doctor says newborns are sensitive to noise. Mom immediately breaks down. Her eyes are red with tears as she rushes over, points at me, and screams, "Can't you just die already? Your cousin can't afford to get married because of the burden you put on our family, and now your little brother can't even get a good night's sleep! "Can't you turn it off for just one night so the whole family can finally have some peace and quiet?" After saying that, she takes Jasper and goes back to her parents' house. I look at the "Happy Family" cross-stitch embroidery hanging on the wall. Slowly, I unplug the ventilator. "Mom, Dad, it's quiet now."

On the day of my college graduation, I had just signed a contract with a prestigious company when my dad burst into my room, grabbed the paper, and ripped it to shreds. "Why waste your time with a crappy $8,000-a-month job? You've already been hired by the world's top financial conglomerate! A base salary of $100,000 a month, plus a luxury penthouse the moment you start! What other young woman fresh out of college gets that kind of treatment?" I stared at the flimsy piece of paper in his hand. It was stamped with a cheap-looking plastic seal that read "Global Stellar Consortium". I shook with rage. "Dad, that’s just a fake image generated with AI. This company doesn't even exist!" My dad merely snorted and shoved his phone directly into my face. On his screen was a screenshot of a prompt he had fed into an AI chatbot. Prompt: [Issue an offer letter for my daughter from the world's number one corporation. Make sure it's the highest position possible.] AI: [Operation complete. Your daughter has been officially hired as the South American President of the Global Stellar Consortium.] My throat went dry as panic set in. I tried to reason with him. "Dad, the AI is just playing along with your prompt to write a fictional story! It's a chatbot; it doesn't actually recruit people!" He simply whipped out a $200,000 transfer receipt and waved it triumphantly in front of my eyes. "What do you know?" he sneered. "The AI is real! It even gave me the payment code to cover your mandatory Employment Security Deposit!"

Three days after the SAT scores were released, I came across a post asking for advice. [Both my older and younger sons are going to Northbridge for college. How should I split their living expenses so it's fair?] The comments were almost unanimous. [Why is this even a question? They're both your kids. Give them the same amount. That's the fairest way to do things.] I was about to scroll past when the newest top comment caught my eye. The profile picture belonged to my sister. [Don't judge when you don't know the whole story.] [I'm their older sister, so let me be honest. You can't raise two boys the same way.] [The older one is pretty average-looking, and he's awkward and quiet. Even if you gave him money, he wouldn't know what to spend it on. Meanwhile, the younger one is outgoing and handsome, with great style. One pair of his limited-edition shoes costs over $2,000.] [If you ask me, the older one should get $800, and the younger one should get $8,000. Each child should get the amount they need.] Beneath her comment was a reply from my childhood best friend, Whitney Jones. [Couldn't have said it better myself!] [Besides, we'll all be in Northbridge anyway. We can keep your younger brother company, so your mom won't have to worry about him back home.] Staring at the screen, I suddenly laughed until tears blurred my vision. When we were kids, we would play hide-and-seek. All of them would sneak off together, hand in hand, leaving me alone in the dark attic, covering my eyes and counting. Back then, I honestly believed that if I searched hard enough, I would eventually find them and become part of their little world. However, every time I opened my eyes, they had already slipped away with my younger brother, leaving to buy ice cream without me. It turned out nothing had changed since then. They were still walking side by side toward the bright lights of Northbridge, while I remained nothing more than an afterthought, someone brought along just for the sake of the picture. I deleted every university in Northbridge from my list and replaced them with schools in the far south, more than a thousand miles from home. I was done playing the loyal supporting character in someone else's fairy tale. Their game could go on without me.

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 mother was a veteran HR director, so she built a performance scorecard for my entire childhood. A perfect test score earned me ten minutes on my phone. Finishing first in school earned me a milkshake. Whatever I wanted, I had to earn with grades. After I entered Crestmont Institute of Technology, I spent three straight years at the top of my program. According to her rules, that was worth one thousand dollars. When I came home, she tossed a single dollar bill at me. "So what if you're still first? Your GPA has slipped by a tenth of a point every year. You have the nerve to ask for a reward?" Beside her, my brother lounged with the keys to his new Hawthorne sedan spinning around one finger. My stomach sank. "When I got into Crestmont Tech, you said I wasn't valedictorian, so all I deserved was a used scooter. "Why does he get a new car for barely making it into community college..." Mom's eyes flashed. "You and Tyler are completely different. "He went from having no chance at college to getting accepted somewhere. That's progress. You're moving backward. "Since you've chosen to coast, I'm cutting off your living expenses next semester. We only invest resources in people who improve. "Raise your GPA by finals, then come trade your grades for money." I walked outside without another word and made a call. "You really are me, ten years from now. You were right. Her performance system only applies to me." Future me answered calmly. "Tomorrow, sell the artwork Dad left you. Three of the pieces are genuine old masters. "Put every dollar into your research project. No matter what anyone says, don't abandon it. That project is your way into Crestmont's tech elite. "Let this family lose a future multimillionaire over one thousand dollars."

Lately, the husband whom the Jeston heiress had loved for years seemed like a completely different person. A month ago, during a heavy downpour, Sierra Parker forgot her husband, Caleb Finch, who had been at the airport waiting for her to pick him up, instead choosing to accompany her late cousin's husband, Riley Cross, for a round of karaoke. Caleb, who usually possesses a petty streak, didn't even get angry this time. He simply caught a taxi home alone. Two weeks ago, Sierra forgot Caleb's birthday entirely while she stayed out to nurse the drunk Riley. Caleb didn't stay up waiting for her like he always did. Instead, he cleaned up the mess and headed to bed. Two days ago, Sierra abandoned Caleb while he's running a high fever, all because Riley nearly scalded himself. Even their daughter, Amelia Finch, was worried about Riley. When they crossed paths at the hospital, Caleb merely sat down and received his IV drip in silence. He forgot their vows to grow old together and even Amelia's words of appreciation for how hard he had worked to care for their family over the years. Now, Sierra wants to bring Riley into their home and support him for the rest of his life. Seeing the sadness in Caleb's eyes, she merely purses her lips. "Caleb, we've been married for seven years. I'm only letting Riley move in with us. You don't have to threaten to walk out on me." Amelia looks equally annoyed with him. "Dad, stop being so dramatic. Isn't it a good thing to have another person around to look after me?" Silently enduring the loss of his memories, he calls out to the system, "System, I'm ready to go now."

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 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?"

Ever since I was little, my dad taught me that no matter what happened, I should put my studies and exams as my top priority. When I was eight, I accidentally broke my leg during gym class, but my dad insisted that I finish that day’s class before taking me to get it treated. When the doctor said I was brought in too late and would have to be hospitalized, my dad looked troubled. “Third grade is a crucial transition period in elementary school. My child absolutely cannot waste any time right now!” So, I went to school in a wheelchair during the day and returned to my hospital room at night to finish my homework. When I was discharged, I was left with a lasting condition. Ever since then, I walked with a slight limp. When I was eleven, I ran a high fever of 102 degrees and started babbling incoherently. But my dad took forever to arrive. The teacher was so anxious that she took me to the hospital first, only to be berated by my dad when he finally showed up. “The transition from elementary to middle school is a critical moment for a child’s future. If my son, Teleus Costa, misses these three classes, just think how far behind the other kids he’ll fall!” Even though I had not fully recovered, my dad sent me back to school the very next day. From then on, I suffered from severe myocarditis. At seventeen, I developed a serious heart condition that put me at risk of sudden death at any moment. But my dad insisted I wait until after the SATs to seek treatment. “The SATs are the pivotal moment that determines your future. Missing even one class at such a time is tantamount to suicide!” One night during evening study hall, my heart seized up again, and I stumbled down the stairs. Lying in a pool of blood, I mustered my last ounce of strength to press the emergency contact button on my smartwatch to call for help. But on the other end, I heard my father’s voice. “There’s still one more session of evening study hall left. Can’t you just hang in there until it’s over?” ‘Dad, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could make it,’ I thought.

After spending five years in Virtue School, I was a machine that dutifully carried out every order. Seeing me staying as silent as a grave, my father exclaimed happily, "Jojo's such a good boy now. Come on, let's eat! Let's celebrate!" Hearing the order to eat, I sprang to my feet, grabbed a plate, and stayed on all fours, shoving food into my own mouth with my own hands. My sister Josie shot me a look of disgust. "Mom! Dad! How has he improved?! He's even more annoying now!" On the other hand, the culprit who made me like this—the adopted orphan of my mother's fallen comrade—was suddenly tearing up, his voice cracking. "Sorry, brother… I didn't know you'd hate me for so long. "If you hate me that much, I will go to my mother. I'm more than content after your parents have taken care of me for so long." My brain, essentially lobotomized by shock therapy, couldn't understand such complex sentences. So I only watched as he gritted his teeth and pressed his dinner knife against his own neck. My parents promptly leaped up to stop him, while Josie bellowed at me, "No! If anyone should die, it's Joseph! He's such a jinx, ruining the mood here as soon as he comes back!" It was another complex sentence, but my mind caught the order this time. 'Die. Joseph.' Without hesitation, I scrambled to my feet, dashed toward the open window, and jumped.