My brother has always hated me. He once told me to my face that he wished I was dead. So I granted his wish and got stomach cancer. But he regretted it. I still died though. With a smile, right in front of him. Jack’s call came just as I arrived home. The diagnosis report in my bag was already crumpled into a ball. He never used to call me on his own initiative before. “It was Dad’s birthday the day before yesterday,” he said. His voice was cold as ice, as always. “Why didn’t you come back…” “Because I didn’t want to,” I cut him off. “You went back, didn’t you? That’s enough.” “Even Tina came back from abroad at the beginning of the month.” Tina was our cousin who had lived with us since childhood. “Well, she was there, wasn’t she? After all, you only treat her like a sister anyway.” The person on the other end seemed to flare up in anger, and called my name in a low voice: “Mia!” I hung up. The last rays of sunset fell into the room. I sat at the desk, tearing the diagnosis report into pieces. As the scraps of paper fluttered down onto the table, my phone screen suddenly lit up. Jack: Mom’s death anniversary is coming up soon.
Jack is my brother. He has always hated me. Because I am the culprit who took away his mother. Over twenty years ago, during a difficult childbirth, I was born at the same time my mother lost her life forever on the operating table. It was a murder disguised as new life. No one welcomed my arrival. Because of me, Dad lost his beloved wife. And Jack lost his mother. This long-standing hatred began from the day I was born, and has continued until today. I didn’t intentionally miss Dad’s birthday. It’s just that on that day, I was in so much abdominal pain I nearly passed out before I realized something was wrong. But actually, if I didn’t go, he might have been more at ease.
Jack didn’t contact me again. I took a deep breath as I stood outside the company building. After graduation, I had joined his company. I worked my way up from the bottom, but no one ever discovered our relationship. The number of times I met with him was even fewer than his meetings with ordinary employees. Last week, a senior executive resigned. This week, they were going to announce the successor. Everyone said the position was mine for sure. At least before I got the diagnosis report, I had thought so too. In the hallway, I happened to run into a colleague. She greeted me and then leaned in with a smile: “Mia, don’t forget to treat us to a big meal when you get promoted.” I smiled and looked down: “It’s not certain yet.” “It’s definitely going to be you,” she linked arms with me. “You’re the best out of everyone here.” As we entered the conference room, Jack was there too. I happened to meet his gaze for a moment, before we both looked away like strangers. “Good morning, Mr. jack.” He didn’t look at me, just nodded. As indifferent as if we hadn’t argued that night at all. People gradually filled up the conference room. Jack cleared his throat, and my colleague immediately winked at me. I lowered my eyes to avoid her gaze. The next second, I heard a familiar name. “Tina .” A familiar figure came in from outside. Slender and graceful, Tina smiled as gently as ever. Jack stood beside her, introducing her to everyone: “Tina has just returned from abroad and will be taking over the position of Deputy Manager.” Some people instinctively looked towards me. I avoided their eyes and looked at the brightly smiling Tina on the stage. The atmosphere in the room seemed to stagnate for a moment. Invisible undercurrents swirled. I smiled and applauded. The scattered applause broke the somewhat eerie atmosphere in the conference room. Tina met my eyes, her eyes curved in a smile.
The coffee smell in the break room was so strong it seemed about to overflow. I stirred it with a spoon, took a sip, and felt some acid reflux as I swallowed. My colleague glared angrily. “How could they? She just parachutes in and steals your position? Are they so blatant about nepotism?” “Mia, aren’t you angry?” “This position was meant for you. You worked so hard, you even almost ended up in the hospital from overworking last time.” Her gaze fell on the shadows under my eyes: “Mia, I’m telling you, you don’t need to work yourself to death like this. Drink less coffee.” The warmth of the coffee seeped through the ceramic mug into my hands. I thanked her quietly: “Mr. jack must have his own considerations.” The girl’s eyes widened, and she was about to complain in a low voice when my phone suddenly rang. Jack’s voice was crystal clear in the small break room, with a hint of suppressed anger: “Mia, come to my office for a moment.” My hand shook, spilling a few drops of coffee onto my white shirt. The heat seeped through the fabric, scalding my skin. I responded softly: “Okay.”
The moment Jack’s office door opened, I saw Tina sitting on the sofa, her head slightly bowed. And a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. While Jack sat there, his face cold and angry. As always. People used to say that although Jack and I came from the same womb, only our eyes looked alike. Upturned at the corners, when not smiling, they naturally carried a cold aloofness that kept people at a distance. Unfortunately, neither of us liked to smile. And Jack had never smiled at me. “Although Tina is parachuting in, she has the ability,” he said. “Mia.” When he called my name, Jack frowned deeply. “If you have complaints, just say them directly. Gossiping behind people’s backs, uniting with colleagues to isolate Tina – Mia, is your viciousness ingrained in your bones?” In just half a day. I glanced sideways at Tina. She happened to look up and meet my eyes. Her face was full of collagen at twenty-something, her eyes red-rimmed, tears reflecting glimmers of light. Then she quickly lowered her head again. All the actors in this farce were in place, just waiting for me to play along. But I really had no interest in acting with them. “What other people say with their own mouths has nothing to do with me.” “Besides -” “Everyone’s not stupid.” A sob and the sound of something falling to the ground rang out simultaneously. The expensive pen that had been on the desk was now shattered. Black ink spread at my feet. “Mia! You…” A light piece of paper fell on his desk. Jack’s words were choked back. When he saw the text clearly, his anger immediately resurged: “Mia!” “Are you still a child?” “Are you throwing a tantrum?” The brand new resignation letter was crumpled into a ball and thrown back at my feet like trash. It’s not a tantrum at all. I’ve known for a long time. I don’t have the right to throw tantrums. Only children who are coddled have that right. And I don’t. “I’ll go to HR myself.” As I closed the door, his roar was also shut out. But I hadn’t gone a few steps before Tina caught up. “Mia.” Her voice still had a nasal tone as she carefully reached for my hand. “Mia, don’t be angry. I don’t want this position. I’ll go tell Jack. Don’t throw a tantrum.” “If I had known, I wouldn’t have come back. Mia, don’t let me ruin the relationship between you and Jack.” There was no one in the hallway. I stopped and looked at her. Tina’s eyes naturally carried an air of innocence and pitifulness. Combined with her slightly reddened eyes and nose tip, she could easily win others’ favor. Just like over ten years ago, when she had first arrived at our home. “Tina .” I stepped closer to her, gripping her chin, “This trick works every time -” “Doesn’t it?” Tina’s face instantly went pale. The elevator arrival chime sounded. I let go of her and turned to walk into the elevator. She seemed not to have recovered, standing rooted to the spot. I smiled at her: “You know very well, there was never any sibling affection between him and me.” “Come to think of it, you’re more like his sister.”
As the elevator doors closed, I saw my expressionless face reflected in them. My abdomen cramped with pain. Actually, in the beginning, my relationship with Jack wasn’t as bad as this. When we were young, although he didn’t like me, he never did or said anything excessive. Compared to Dad who treated me like I was invisible, Jack as a brother was the only person I was close to. Back then I thought, even if Jack didn’t like me, we were still family. That’s what blood ties meant. Until middle school, when Tina came to live with us. That’s when I realized. A brother could actually be so nice to someone else. Not always cold-faced, not telling her to “get lost”, not mocking her sarcastically. That was how a brother should really treat a sister. But Tina wasn’t satisfied. On the fifth day after she transferred to my middle school, when I came home after class, Jack slapped me hard across the face. I held my cheek and stared at him in a daze. He was saying things I couldn’t understand. Leading the bullying. Bad seed. Vicious. Apologize. But when I saw Tina standing behind him, head bowed and clutching his shirt, These scattered words suddenly pieced together into a complete lie in my mind. I tried to explain. But he didn’t believe me. The argument that erupted that day and the obvious favoritism suddenly shattered the naive and foolish thoughts I once had. Jack wasn’t stupid enough to not know right from wrong. It was just that he did it on purpose. I seemed to belatedly realize on that day. My brother truly harbored genuine hatred towards me. My relationship with Jack deteriorated rapidly. But unfortunately, in my foolishness and immaturity at the time, I only thought that rather than having him treat me like a stranger like Dad did, I might as well antagonize him. At least, Jack would see me. The tense relationship between us continued until I was eighteen. At eighteen, I was dragged into hell. After eighteen, my relationship with Jack suddenly became that of strangers. Like a war that abruptly ceased. We no longer argued, no longer lashed out hysterically, no longer confronted each other. Just cold, as if we didn’t know each other at all.
After finishing the paperwork and returning home, the sky outside was completely dark. The street lamps in the neighborhood hadn’t lit up yet. I could only faintly see the warm yellow light shining from the homes across the street. The abdominal pain had persisted from the afternoon until now. I curled up on the sofa. Hunger and pain crawled all over my body. I struggled to get up and open the refrigerator. A nauseating smell of rot hit me. I seemed to recall that the last time I had opened the fridge was over a month ago. I grabbed a handful of vegetables, washed them briefly, and put them on the cutting board. The sound of the knife falling was uneven. Bright red blood dripped onto the green leaves, blooming into a flower with a fishy smell. I was stunned for a moment. The pain grew from the wound. I only then realized that I had cut my hand with the knife. When the impulse arose, I couldn’t suppress it. Old and new scars intertwined, with a new one added. Extending from my arm to my wrist. The knife fell to the ground. I knelt down, gasping for breath. I seemed to be losing more and more control, doing things to harm myself. The doctor said before. When an attack comes, you must take your medication. But I didn’t. She also said to let your loved ones accompany you more. “Mia, interact more with your family, feel loved.” “It’s good for your condition.” But… I looked at the meandering trail of blood. But, I don’t have any family.
I didn’t eat the vegetables I stir-fried last night. They all went into the trash. Hunger and pain intertwined, finally causing me to pass out on the bed. Someone knocked on the door early in the morning. I groggily got up from the sofa and walked to the door, opening a crack. When I saw who was outside, I instantly became wide awake. The man’s brows were frosty as usual, his face expressionless. I instinctively pulled the door shut. The loud sound of metal clashing separated us. I quickly went back to my room to put on a coat and changed into long pants. When I opened the door again, Jack’s gaze fell on my face, icy cold. “Do you need something?” I skipped the pleasantries with him. His gaze lowered, falling on my wrist holding the doorknob. There was a small colorful tattoo there. Jack narrowed his eyes, his voice indifferent: “You got a tattoo on your arm too?” I didn’t respond. Jack seemed to take this as confirmation. His originally apathetic mood stirred again: “Do you have to hang out with that punk and turn yourself into the same kind of trash?” I knew Jack had always had a sharp tongue. When our relationship was at its worst, our words were like poisoned knives, mercilessly stabbing each other. But he couldn’t talk about Zoe. Because she was my only, my best, friend. The faint smell of tobacco from the man’s body entered my nostrils. The veins on my forehead throbbed wildly, making me nauseous. The abdominal pain that had subsided earlier came back with a vengeance. My hand gripped the doorknob tightly, shaking again and again. I finally couldn’t hold back. But the expected slap didn’t land on his face. Instead, he gripped my wrist tightly, the old scars coming into contact with another person’s body heat. I saw the flash of shock on Jack’s face more clearly than ever: “The scars on your wrist…” But before he could finish, I slapped him again. The man’s head tilted slightly to the side, a large red mark blooming on his fair face. I had used a lot of force. Wisps of tobacco smell bound my nerves. A cold fear rose from the soles of my feet, creeping bit by bit over my entire body. I forcefully wrenched my hand from his grip. My wrist was already red. I clasped my own hands tightly, just to keep myself from shaking so badly. “Mia…” “Get out.” I lowered my eyes, staring hard at my feet. “Don’t touch me.” “Get out!”
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