Novelas y relatos de Familial Bond

In the backyard of my home, there is a dark red jar that is about half a person's height. It is half buried in the ground, and my whole family forbids me from going near it. But I hear someone inside the jar calling me over and over. That voice says, "Sis, I miss you so much."

Alexander Morrison doesn't love me, nor does he love our daughter. The only person he loves is his first love, Charlotte Clarke. To maintain his perfect image in Charlotte's eyes, he only allows our daughter to call him "Uncle Alex". This continues until Charlotte becomes pregnant and goes abroad to marry someone else. Alexander drinks himself into oblivion and finally decides to marry me. When he comes home, our daughter gives him 100 forgiveness coupons. I tell him that once those 100 coupons are used up, I'll take our daughter and leave him forever. He holds us both tightly in his arms, swearing he will never make us sad again. During the initial few years of our secret marriage, he indeed does exceptionally well, as not a single coupon is used. That is, until Charlotte returns to the country with her daughter. Every time he abandons me and our daughter for Charlotte and her child, I tear off one forgiveness coupon. Now, only three coupons remain.

My mom was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her life is smooth-sailing most of the time. The only mistake she's ever made is falling for my dad. That's why she insists on finding me a husband who's the complete opposite of my dad. My dad is tall and intimidating-looking, so Mom wants someone who's short and perverted-looking. My dad is a knowledgeable and well-read man, so Mom wants a guy who has only graduated from elementary school. My dad prioritizes his moral integrity more than anything else, so Mom prefers a guy who drinks, gambles, and sleeps around. She tells me, "This type of man is easy to manipulate, unlike your father, who just divorced me out of nowhere!" It's true that the man Mom has chosen for me won't divorce me. After all, he leeches from me on top of beating me up. It's not enough to leech my money from me, it seems—he just has to take everything from me. My mom says in a righteous tone, "This is the only way that proves you're valuable to him. He won't divorce you at all." I've fought back and escaped from my husband many times. Every time I do, my mom will trick me into returning to him by hurting herself. As always, I'm greeted with another round of beating whenever I do return to him. Mom will take me to the hospital to get my injuries treated. Then, she'll say, "Hurry up and give birth to a son for him. Once you have a son, you'll be extremely valuable to your husband. He won't beat you up anymore." Today is supposed to be the day Mom takes me to the hospital to check my ovulation timing. She spends a long time calling me on the phone, yet I never pick up. After that, she sends me a few audio messages that last for 60 seconds each just to lecture me. "Beatrice Anderson, what makes you think you can just ignore my calls? The hospital check-up is for your own good! As long as you can get pregnant with a son, your husband will be wrapped around your finger! He won't divorce you after this! Why can't you understand how much I care for you?" I seriously can't understand at all. After all, I've gotten beaten to death yesterday. My corpse is cut into 28 chunks, and they are being frozen in the fridge as I speak.

I still have a week before my due date when a truck suddenly hits me, sending me flying several feet and leaving me bleeding profusely on the ground. As I lose consciousness, I call my husband, Wallace Brown, begging him to rush over and save our unborn child, only for him to reply coldly, "It's Beth's 18th birthday party today, Meryl. You can't seriously be pulling one of your stunts on a day like this, can you?" In the next instant, I hear my son, Daniel Brown, exclaiming, "You're always using the baby to threaten us, Mommy! I really hate it when you do that!" Wallace stresses the importance of Beth's birthday party again, demands that I attend immediately, and then hangs up on me. With a pool of blood spreading beneath me, I close my eyes, overcome by despair. When I open my eyes again, I am met by the sight of a death certificate. The doctor delivers a crushing pronouncement. "I'm sorry, but if you had gotten here sooner, we might have been able to save the baby's life…" I look at the death certificate, feeling as though my heart died with my baby. I finally decide to leave this family, yet now they're the ones begging me to stay.

I was born with a genetic disorder. My father left as soon as he found out, and my illness quickly drained all my mother’s savings. To afford my treatment, she moved me from one stranger’s home to another, until she chose to have a child for money. After giving birth to a baby boy and receiving twelve thousand dollars, she was about to leave, but the man asked her to stay. He promised to raise me as his own and cover my medical expenses. She agreed. They married soon after. She told me I would always be the one she loved most. To prove it, she rarely held my brother and almost never smiled at him. Until the day he accidentally swallowed my medicine. As she frantically tried to save him, she broke down and screamed at me, “Why are you still alive?” I watched them rush to the hospital. Then I went back to my room, picked up the scattered pills, and swallowed them all. Mom, I wouldn't be a burden to you anymore.

Mom and Dad keep claiming that I'm their firstborn, so they need to love me with all their hearts. Already, they're saving up for my college funds and keep taking me on vacations abroad just to explore the world. This time, I've gotten a full score on my exams. My parents decide to take me and my four-year-old sister, Amelia Orson, on a trip. Worried that I might mind Amelia's presence, they even specifically explain to me that no one is capable of taking care of Amelia in their stead, so she has to come along. I accept the explanation immediately. But Amelia falls sick right before the trip. There isn't any cough syrup left at home, so I use my pocket money to buy some imported cough syrup and feed Amelia with it. I thought I'd get praised for my efforts. Instead, Mom rushes over to induce vomiting for Amelia. With red-rimmed eyes, she scolds me, "How dare you feed her medicine without checking the source! Do you have any idea how lethal that is? When I was young, I almost died from a dose of misused medication fed by my own sister! How dare you try to harm Amelia, you wretched child!" After that, Mom tells Dad to bring out his suitcase so that she can lock me up in it. "You want to go on a trip because you've scored full marks in your exams, right? Fine! Have all the fun you want in the suitcase!" What they've forgotten is the fact that Dad often uses this suitcase on his business trips, so there's a TSA-approved lock on it. I can't even open the suitcase from inside.

I was adopted. They were so good to me that every night before I fell asleep, I prayed to grow up healthy and happy in this home. Then Mom got pregnant. I hid under my covers and cried all night, quietly packing the little suitcase I had arrived with. But they didn't send me away. They loved me even more. The day my brother was born, Mom took my hand and gently stroked my head. "Having an older sister," she said, "is why we have a younger brother." Dad lifted me above his head and spun me around laughing. "Lily is our family's lucky star — our most beloved baby!" I finally stopped dreading every single day. I thought I had truly become part of this family. Then my brother snapped my favorite Barbie in half. I pushed him. He stumbled, sat on the floor, stared for two seconds, and burst into tears. Mom panicked, shoved me aside, and pulled him into her arms, asking over and over if he was hurt. Dad came running. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall, eyes blazing. "Is this what I raised you all these years for — to bully your brother? Believe me when I say I will send you straight back to—"

In all the eight years after Mamma died, Father hated me. He hated me for causing Mamma’s death, and he hated me even more because I didn’t resemble her at all. So he adopted a girl who looked eighty percent like Mamma and raised her as the principessa of the Vitale family. He brought her to banquets hosted by the five Mafia families of Corholt and seated her beside him at negotiation tables. In front of the entire family, he publicly declared that his adopted daughter, Bianca Vitale, was his only heir. Meanwhile, I wore a servant’s apron and lived in a cellar beneath the estate. He allowed Bianca to break my fingers, slash my face, and lock me inside the morgue freezer. “This is what you deserve.” I believed it, too. Until my sixteenth birthday, when Mamma came back.

My sister had struggled with depression since childhood. The doctor warned that she could not tolerate any kind of stimulation. As a result, my entire life fell silent. To avoid upsetting her, I never dared to laugh at home. I never dared to cry. When I got hurt, I did not even have the right to say it hurt. My parents would hug me with apologetic expressions and say, "You're the good one. Your sister's illness requires the whole family to work together. You're healthy. You're strong. Let her have more, okay?" One day, I accidentally knocked over a cup. The crash sounded enormous in the quiet room, and my sister's emotions shattered at once. My father struck me for the first time. He roared, "Can't you be careful? Do you have to push her until she dies before you're satisfied?" He shoved me to the floor. The back of my head slammed against the corner of the table, and blood poured out. But my whole family rushed to my screaming sister. No one even glanced at me. I lay on the cold floor as my vision blurred and my consciousness began to fade. To them, my sister's feelings were the only emergency. My small injury could wait. They did not know that bleeding inside the skull does not wait.

My insanely wealthy parents always tell me that they came from a poor background. As their children, my siblings and I mustn't waste our lives away on fun and games. They set up a trial for me by requesting that I submit an application in advance for all expenses that are over 50 cents. On the day I'm supposed to take my SATs, it's raining heavily outside. Since my exam venue is located 18 miles away from home, I decide to submit an application for a 100-dollar Uber fee. But my dad slaps me in return. "We used to scale over mountains just to get to school back in the day! Don't think you get to enjoy the perks of transportation just because we have money!" After that, he empties my pockets before kicking me out of the house. I end up all sprawled on the muddy ground while feeling raindrops pelting on me relentlessly. When I finally reach the exam venue on foot, I notice the news being played on the huge screen across the street. It turns out that my parents and William Gentry, my older brother, have spent ten million dollars on a popular band to celebrate my adopted sister, Selene Gentry, earning a passing grade on her math test. Apparently, passing her math test is her trial.