Pathological

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.

Two years after I return to Cendria, I unexpectedly run into my daughter, whom my ex-wife had taken with her when she left me. "Do you regret everything you've done?" she asks, her voice dripping with arrogance. "If you apologize to my new dad, Liam, I'll try to convince Mom to forgive you." Before I can respond, an adorable little boy throws himself into my arms. "School's finally over, Dad. I missed you so much!" he exclaims. I take his hand and turn to leave. My ex-daughter is furious. "If you walk away from me now, I'll disown you!" she yells after us in frustration. I remain unbothered. She's free to do whatever she pleases. After all, none of it matters to me anymore.

My boyfriend, Drew Myers, has proposed to me 99 times. Meanwhile, his childhood sweetheart, Tammy Fowler, has relapsed into depression 99 times. When Drew makes his 100th proposal, Tammy's depression strikes once more. As usual, he picks up Tammy's call, a gentle smile playing on his lips. With a tired sigh, he turns to me and says, "She's having another breakdown. We'll have to put the proposal on hold this time." Despite it being my birthday, Drew starts clearing away the freshly served dishes as if it were any other day. Fearing I might complain, he shoots me a cold, disapproving glance. "I know you're jealous of Tammy, but she's the one who's struggling. You're a soldier. You should be the bigger person and give her some leeway." Not only does Drew want me to eat Tammy's scraps, but he also orders me to bring them climbing gear at midnight. When Tammy shares intimate photos of them hugging online, his only reaction is to lash out at me. "Do you honestly find satisfaction in pushing Tammy to another breakdown? Is this the honor of a soldier? Your cruelty sickens me!" Over and over, he tears down my character and mocks my integrity. But this time, I simply look down at the special forces recruitment letter in my hand and say nothing. Drew remains oblivious. At last, I'm the one who's letting go.

Yvonne Xander had three of her ribs broken before she finally managed to escape from the mental asylum. After she escaped, the first thing she did was to sign the agreement to donate her body after her death. “Miss Xander, we must let you know that this is a special donation. Your body will be used to test a new chemical reagent. By then, there might be nothing of you left.” Yvonne pressed down on her aching chest. Her broken ribs made her voice sound like a broken ventilator. With great difficulty, she grimaced. “Just what I want.”

The day my biological family comes to take me home, a car accident occurs. My parents and the fake son who had been living my life all die, but my sister, Kayla Bennett, survives. She despises me completely after that and blames the company's bankruptcy on me too. Desperate to make amends, I work over ten jobs a day, giving her every cent I earn so she can buy back the villa that has all our family memories. The day I finally save enough money, I discover my supposedly dead parents inside that same villa, celebrating Dylan Bennett's birthday. My usually cold sister is laughing warmly with them. As they bring out the cake, Mom mentions me. "Today's Nathan's birthday too. We've been punishing him for eight years now. Maybe we should bring him home?" Kayla cuts her off immediately. "We agreed on ten years to make sure he never suggests sending Dylan away again. Not one year less!" I clutch my medical report and laugh through my tears. But Kayla, I'm dying.

My roommate branded herself as an influencer against beauty standards, vowing to free girls from appearance anxiety. Strangely, whenever she stayed up late partying and broke out in pimples, they would appear on my face instead. When she fooled around and caught an infection, the rashes spread across my body. The more radiant she became, the more monstrous I looked. People recoiled from me. Friends cut me off. My own boyfriend, before a crowd, told me I should just die. Then my roommate got pregnant, yet it was my stomach that swelled like I was eight months along, scarred with terrifying stretch marks. She, meanwhile, looked more flawless than ever, appearing barefaced on camera to encourage girls not to fear their looks. I knew something was not right. When I tried to dig for answers, my roommate and boyfriend trapped me in a basement. They tortured me until I died. Only then did I learn the truth. He owned a cursed amulet that shifted all her pain onto me. The moment I opened my eyes, I was back on our first day of college together. This time, the game is mine. I'll make sure they pay.

Natalie used to hate stuffed animals. Now she's head-over-heels for a cotton doll. She called it "honey" and told our daughter, Yara, it was her real dad. Cool. Guess that made me the family ghost. At Yara's parent-teacher conference, I finally snapped and handed Natalie the divorce papers. Cue the gasps. Suddenly, I'm the villain. She slapped me—full drama mode. "It's just a doll! Why are you being so extra?" Yara hugged it like it was about to save the world, giving me the death stare. I shrugged, smirking. "You're the one who said it's your dream husband and Yara's one and only dad. So, like... why am I still here?"

Five years ago, when my boyfriend's small company was on the brink of bankruptcy I stepped in to save him, quietly supporting him from the shadows. Without revealing my identity, I became the company’s largest shareholder. Five years later, the night before his company was set to go public, he held me in his arms and said, "Emma, after the company goes public tomorrow, don’t leave. I have a surprise for you." At that moment, I was swept away by the idea of his "surprise," my mind racing with the hopeful thought that he might propose. I didn’t notice the cold glint of malice lurking in his eyes. The next day, as his company went public, he slapped me across the face and sneered, "Do you even see what kind of person you are? Did you really think someone like you could marry me?" He grabbed me by the hair and dragged both me and my best friend in front of a crowd of thugs and beggars he’d gathered. “These worthless cast-offs aren’t good enough for me anymore. Consider them my gift to you. Do whatever you like with them!”

Feeling overwhelmed by loneliness, I installed a one-way mirror in the bedroom of the apartment next door, which I specifically rent out to muscular men. One day, through the mirror on the wall, I watched my tenant with his girlfriend, caught up in their fiery passion. I couldn't help but be drawn to his strong physique and impressive size. One day, I pulled him into a small, dimly lit cubicle with me...

After an earthquake, my boyfriend chooses to save a manipulative woman who's closest to the door. I'm pinned to the floor by a cupboard, but he forgets all about me. I pass out from the pain. When I wake up, I discover that my right hand is now useless. My boyfriend apologizes to me. He tells me he was only thinking about saving a life. Later, my boyfriend is diagnosed with a terminal illness. I'm the only person in the world who can save him. He weeps and begs me for help, but I can't hold a scalpel anymore.