When the hurricane hit, my family kicked me out of our home. I was left stranded in the storm, freezing and soaked, until the raging floodwaters swept me away. My body was never found. Meanwhile, my parents and sister sat comfortably around the dining table, enjoying the food I had painstakingly stockpiled for them. But perhaps the heavens pitied me, because I woke up three days before the hurricane made landfall. This time, when faced with their ridicule, I was too tired to care. This time, I decided to save myself. The hurricane arrived earlier than expected. Worried about my family’s safety, I rushed home from a class reunion. My clothes were drenched, and my feet were freezing, but I didn’t stop. When I reached the door, I found it locked. My key wouldn’t work—it had been bolted shut from the inside. I banged on the door and shouted, “Mom? Dad? Emily? Are you there?” There was no answer. I pressed my ear to the door and heard faint sounds inside. Fearing something had happened, I was about to force the door open when my mom’s voice erupted from the other side. “You little tramp! Always running around in those short skirts, trying to seduce men. Don’t you dare come back here! Get out and go live with your boyfriends!” “This house doesn’t welcome you!”
I froze, stunned, and tried to explain myself. But before I could, my sister Emily sent me a text. “Mom and Dad are really mad right now. You should leave before you stress Dad out and trigger his heart condition.” I wanted to defend myself, but the thought of my dad’s health stopped me. I replied: “Emily, can you please explain to them? I was just at a reunion, that’s all.” She didn’t reply. With nowhere else to go, I decided to book a room at a nearby motel to wait out the storm. As I stepped outside, the rain started pouring in sheets, and the temperature plummeted. Wearing nothing but a short skirt, I shivered uncontrollably as the cold wind cut through me. The water on the streets quickly rose, turning into rushing streams. As I carefully made my way down the sidewalk, I heard the faint cries of a child. Turning around, I saw a small boy—no older than four or five—being carried away by the floodwaters, screaming for help. I reached out to grab him, but my foot slipped. Before I could react, I was swallowed by the icy, murky water.
As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt my body grow colder and heavier. My chest tightened, and my breaths slowed until there was nothing left. Through the haze, I saw the boy being rescued by a passerby, crying in his mother’s arms. I also saw my parents and sister. They were sitting at our dining table, surrounded by the supplies I had worked so hard to gather. I heard my father sigh, “I’m so disappointed in Wendy. From now on, I only have one daughter.” I heard my mother scoff, “Don’t mention her. She’s nothing but bad luck.” And I heard my sister laugh, saying, “Mom, Dad, don’t worry about her. She texted me earlier—she’s with some guy. She doesn’t need us!” I stared in disbelief. All my life, I thought that if I worked hard enough, my parents would love me just as much as they loved Emily. I thought my sister was kind and supportive, the best sister anyone could ask for. But behind my back, they wished I would disappear. And the sister I had always looked up to was happy to tarnish my name in front of them. Fine. If that’s how they felt, they’d never see me again. But still… I couldn’t accept it. Before my consciousness faded completely, I heard a voice ask me: “Do you want another chance at life?” I summoned every last bit of strength and answered: “Yes.”
“The National Weather Service has issued a severe hurricane warning. Residents are advised to prepare and stock up on supplies…” I woke up to the sound of a weather broadcast. I was lying on the couch in our living room, a blanket draped over me. The sensation of rainwater filling my lungs still felt so vivid, like a nightmare I couldn’t shake. But I knew this wasn’t just a dream. It had all happened. The television displayed the date: three days before the hurricane would hit. Just as I was piecing everything together, my phone rang. I answered, and my mom’s sharp, angry voice immediately came through. “Wendy, you ungrateful brat! The hurricane is coming, and you’re out there fooling around instead of helping your father and me? Why don’t you just die out there?” That was how every conversation with my mom ended. Before, I’d always thought she didn’t mean it. But now, I knew better. For the first time in my life, I talked back. “You’ve always said Emily’s enough for you. Let her help you, then.” And I hung up without waiting for her reply.
In this house, I’ve always been the unwanted one. My birth was an accident—something my parents never let me forget. As a child, Emily saw me as competition for our parents’ love and did everything she could to turn them against me. I still remember them holding her in their arms, comforting her as she cried. “Don’t worry, Emily. We don’t like her. We only love you.” Over time, those words became their truth. They barely looked at me, spoke to me, or acknowledged me. I worked myself to the bone to earn their approval. Once, I finally scored higher than Emily on a test and proudly showed my mom. She slapped me across the face, ripped up my test, and shouted, “You’re just trying to upset your sister. Don’t ever bring something like this home again!” When I went to college, I chose a major with poor job prospects but pursued my passion for writing full-time. My family didn’t understand. To them, I was lazy, irresponsible, and wasting my life. Every success I achieved meant nothing—they believed I was out partying with men instead of working. But I never realized how deeply they resented me. Not until now.
Soon enough, my mom called again. I didn’t answer. The phone kept ringing, so I simply turned it off. I didn’t have time to waste on them—I only had three days to get everything done. I needed to secure water and electricity, stock up on food, and prepare enough medicine. In my last life, I had done all of this for my family. But I was met with nothing but disdain and ridicule. I still remember lugging heavy cases of bottled water under the hot sun while my parents stood nearby, watching and mocking me. “What’s the point of all this? We already have water at home. You’re just wasting money.” By the time I had carried everything upstairs, dripping with sweat, I was utterly exhausted. And yet, in the end, I wasn’t even alive to use any of it. If I had to make the choice again, this time I’d choose myself. Thankfully, after graduating college and becoming independent, I insisted on renting my own place so I could focus on my writing. Now, that apartment was my safest refuge.
I headed straight to the largest wholesale store in the city. Since no one had realized the importance of stocking up yet, the shelves were still fully stocked. I filled my cart with instant noodles, bottled water, bread, and crackers, then added a variety of snacks I liked. Despite earning a good income, I had spent most of my money in the past buying furniture for my parents or giving them gifts. I couldn’t even bring myself to splurge on something as simple as fresh fruit. But now, it felt liberating to put myself first for once. Every penny I earned was finally mine to spend however I pleased. By the time I carried all my supplies home, it was already noon. I made sure to order a portable gas stove and a hand-crank flashlight online. Just as I finished, ready to take a well-deserved break, I heard someone banging on my door.
When I opened it, there stood my dear sister, Emily. She was the only one who knew my address. But of course, she couldn’t keep it to herself. She had casually let it slip to my parents: “Oh, Wendy’s living on her own now. Who knows if she’s living with someone?” Thanks to her, my parents had once dragged me home in the middle of the night, insisting on taking me to the doctor because they were convinced I had some “dirty disease.” And yet, Emily had played the same role as always—the sweet, understanding daughter. “Wendy,” she started, her tone dripping with fake concern. “Mom said you’ve been ignoring her calls. You’re an adult now; you should be more considerate. Mom and Dad are getting older, you know. What if—” “I’m not answering because I don’t want to see any of you,” I cut her off and started to close the door. “Wendy!” She shoved her hand into the doorframe to stop me. “Mom and Dad are worried about you. Why don’t you come home for a couple of days? The hurricane’s coming, and it’s dangerous to stay here alone.” I stared at her sly expression and couldn’t help but laugh. Worried about me? Hardly. She clearly wanted me back to act as the family’s unpaid labor force. Feigning hesitation, I said, “Well… okay. But I twisted my ankle, so I might need you to take care of me.” Her face changed instantly. “What? You’re hurt?” I nodded pitifully. “Yeah, the doctor said I shouldn’t do anything strenuous for three months. I’m supposed to stay in bed and rest.” “Well… maybe you should just stay here and focus on recovering. I’ll check on you another time.” And with that, Emily hurried off without looking back.
hanks to that little lie, I enjoyed two days of peace and quiet. The day before the hurricane hit, I received another invitation to the class reunion. This time, I declined. After explaining to the class president, I headed downstairs to the local market and bought plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. I also treated myself to some duck neck snacks and ice cream, planning to stay home for the entire week. Just as I was unpacking my groceries, my dad called me. In my 24 years of life, I could count on one hand the number of times we’d spoken. This was the first time he had ever called me himself. I answered. “Wendy, I heard there’s a hurricane coming. Make sure you take care of yourself.” For a moment, he actually sounded like a caring father. But then came the second half of his sentence. “We’re running low on supplies at home. Can you order some online and have them delivered?” So they couldn’t use me as free labor, and now they wanted my money instead? I didn’t bother hiding my disdain. “Emily knows how to do all of this. Ask her.” There was a pause, followed by the sound of something shattering on the other end of the line. “You’ve got some nerve talking to me like that! If this is how you’re going to act, then you can forget about being part of this family!” Did he think that would scare me? Too bad for him, I’d already heard those words before. I chuckled lightly. “This family never included me to begin with.” “And honestly? I couldn’t care less.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295792”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #校园School #励志Inspiring #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply