The Monster You Created
When I was seven, my constant vomiting got so bad that my mother took me to court and accused me of being born dangerous.
If the charge stuck, I would be stripped of my family ties and sent straight to prison.
Everyone said my mother was overreacting.
"He's just a kid. Kids get sick. As his mother, you should be more understanding."
But the moment the evidence was shown, the room went dead quiet.
My mother had drunk herself into a stomach bleed just to land a contract, and the second she got home, I threw up all over it.
The deal was voided, and she lost her job on the spot.
On my sister, Ophelia Sowle's, birthday, I threw up all over her cake right in front of all her classmates.
After that, she was shunned by everyone at school. She spiraled into depression and even slashed her wrists.
It didn't matter where I was, at the dinner table or under the covers. I could start vomiting at any moment.
My mother and Ophelia had to clean me up more than 30 times a day. It wore them down to the breaking point.
What infuriated them the most was that every time I finished throwing up, I would look at them and laugh, as if I was mocking them.
The judge brought the gavel down and declared me guilty of being born bad.
Ophelia's eyes turned red as she cried, saying she couldn't bear to lose me.
I didn't cry or fight it. I accepted the verdict. But I requested that the judge watch my memories first.
The judge looked stunned.
"Memory extraction means drilling into your brain. The pain is unbearable. Are you sure?"
I nodded without hesitation.
But Ophelia suddenly panicked.
"I don't agree!"