A Mother's Misguided Love
My mom believed in one thing above all else: being number one.
To achieve that, she created a strict daily schedule and even developed a monitoring app that required us to submit reports every day.
Anyone who failed to rank first according to the app's evaluation would be tied to a chair and severely punished.
No matter how difficult the task was, my younger brother, Jason Hunt, could always complete it and receive a perfect score.
Even when he actually ranked last, the monitoring software would still display him in first place.
As for me, a single misspelled word was enough to trigger a failing warning from the app, followed immediately by my mom's harsh punishment.
At first, I tried to explain.
Later, I stayed silent.
In the end, I could only kneel and beg.
My mom remained unmoved.
"Trash doesn't deserve sympathy," she said coldly. "You'll thank me when you become successful in the future."
On the first day of the New Year, my mom took Jason out to visit our relatives and exchange greetings.
I, meanwhile, was burning with a high fever and could not even finish the day's assignments.
Ignoring my illness, my mom dragged me into a bathtub filled with ice.
"If you're trying to escape studying, you don't deserve to live," she said. "Pretending to be sick? If you've got the guts, then just die already."
She forced my head underwater and raised a rod, smashing it against my skull again and again.
I begged desperately for mercy, but it was futile.
My mom left with Jason, and I curled up alone on the floor.
She was right. Only those who work hard deserve to live.