Sackboy Emotions Novels & Stories

My younger sister and I were born twins, yet from the very beginning, our parents had zero fondness for me. My sister was the family's good-luck charm, while I was hailed as the harbinger of misfortune. I was blamed for every calamity, while she got all the credit for every blessing. Even after my death, I heard them say, "If we had abandoned her at birth, or even ended her life then, none of this would have happened." I had once tried desperately to win their approval, only to be met with cold indifference. When I finally secured a coveted civil service post, they celebrated me for the first time in my life. I naively believed that I had been acknowledged at last. But then, they said, "Give your job to your sister. She needs it more." At that moment, something inside me completely died. I tried so hard to cling to the hard-won proof that I was not the family's misfortune, yet even that slipped through my grasp. In the end, I lost everything, even the life they had never once cherished.

Lindsey Johnson asks her fiance's true love, Stephanie Sullivan, to repay her debt. The next day, Jacob Whitaker throws at her a ledger that she had never seen before. Every single expense from their five-year relationship is recorded inside. From small things like two-dollar ice cream to the expensive items like the luxury bags he gave her. Even the costs of hotel stays and condoms are recorded in the ledger. "I'll split half the hotel bills with you. After deducting the 100 grand Stephie owes you, you still owe me 2.08 million. You have one month to transfer the month to my account."

I brought home eighty dollars’ worth of durian. When my sister-in-law, Lily Ward, saw me, she clutched her stomach and screamed from the couch. “Ugh, my stomach! Summer, you know I can’t stand that smell. Are you trying to suffocate my baby?” Before I could even steady myself, my mother, Rosemary Ward, slapped me across the face. It made me see how much my mother favored my younger brother, Jasper Ward. When we were children, she always reminded me that he was younger and told me to give him a pass. I thought things might change after he grew up and got married. Instead, her favoritism only got worse. “Summer, you jinx! Hurry up and sign over your apartment to Jas to make up for this!” Watching Jasper pull out a property transfer agreement, I covered my swollen cheek and smiled. So, this whole act was just to get the apartment I had bought. “Sure.” They were delighted to see me agree readily. However, they failed to consider one thing. I might have willingly given it away, but I wondered if any of them had the nerve to take it.

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."

After the birth of our daughter, my husband left for a dangerous mission. My in-laws' initial joy soured, and they regarded my baby with disdain. Maria, my mother-in-law, was particularly scornful. In a rare show of familial love, my father-in-law Lincoln took my daughter out for a playdate. I thought he had finally grown fond of her, only for him to strike me the moment he returned. "How dare you betray my son! I'll kill you!" "Yes! Beat that loose woman to death together with that brat!" Shifting my gaze from the report on the floor to my furious father-in-law, I pulled out several photos—my naked mother-in-law Maria, caught with another man. "Let's see who the real loose woman is!"

After years of living abroad without children, I decided to return home to handle my inheritance matters. However, before I could step into my house, I was stopped by a group of people at the entrance. The woman leading the group pointed at me and started screaming. "I can't believe someone as young as you is seducing a man old enough to be your father! How disgusting can you be?" I watched her, noticing how much she resembled my older brother, and I was shaking with rage. They pulled out my fingernails, broke my ribs, and slashed my face, dragging me around the neighborhood as I begged for mercy. Yet, they remained indifferent to my pleas. Just as I was on the verge of losing hope, my brother, Edward Grange rushed over.  Through a mouthful of blood, I managed to choke out, "Ed, I’d rather die than let her inherit my inheritance…”

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?

When I was six, I spilled hot water, slipped, and burned my face. My face was ruined. My parents learned their lesson and never let my younger sister do housework. To everyone they met, they praised her beauty, her charm. They turned to me with nothing but disdain. When I was ten, I had a high fever. They didn't think much of it and let it drag on until my brain was damaged, leaving me slow and dull. They learned their lesson again. From then on, if my sister so much as coughed, they would rush her to the hospital in the dead of night, showering her with care. I was like a failed experiment. Every mistake they made with me, they corrected for her. I was ugly, silent, dim-witted, unwanted. She was beautiful, sweet-talking, clever, adored by all. When I was diagnosed with depression, I gathered what little courage I had and told them. Mom lashed out, called me sick in the head, and accused me of being petty. If I was so capable, she said, I might as well die. It wasn't until my sister pushed me off a high-rise that they found out, by sheer accident, that she wasn't their child at all. I was their one and only biological child.

The Richie Rich who violated my daughter has gotten off unscathed. He sneers and throws a wad of cash in my face. "I'll show you what people mean when they say money makes the world go round!" In that split second, I want to tear him to pieces.

When I died with a smile on my face, right before my brother's eyes, he looked as if the anguish might tear him apart. Yet, for twenty-one years, he hadn't stopped wishing I would meet this exact end. It all traced back to my fifth birthday—the day I had innocently hoped our parents would come home from their business trip to celebrate with me. They rushed back that night but never made it. A car accident took both their lives. From that moment on, my brother resented me, despised me. He didn't just stand idly by as our cousin snatched up my work as her own; he encouraged it. And when my landlord threw me out, it wasn't a random cruelty—it was my brother pulling the strings. All he had ever wanted, from the very beginning, was to see me die a miserable death. But when he finally got his wish… why did he cry, pleading for me to come back, begging me to call him 'brother' one last time?