Three years after I died, my mom sent me a two-hundred-dollar allowance. Three years ago, the first time I ever asked her for money, my mom blurted out, “Sometimes, I just think you’re putting on an act.” “Is a dollar-menu meal really that unsanitary? Can’t a discount store winter coat keep you warm?” “At the end of the day, you’re just more delicate than your sister.” Later, I needed two hundred dollars for urgent medical treatment for an acute stomach perforation. She immediately blocked me, cutting off all contact with me and a bunch of relatives. “Don’t bother with me anymore,” she declared. “I’m clearly an incompetent mother, incapable of providing my daughter with a lavish life.” But for my sister, who had just started high school, she spared no expense, renting a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog had its own room. Finally, on the day my sister was celebrated as the top student in the state. That’s when she remembered to unblock me and sent over two hundred dollars for my allowance. “It’s just two hundred dollars, isn’t it? Is it really worth holding a grudge against your family for three whole years?” But she didn’t know. That snowy night, on the very day I suffered the stomach perforation, I froze to death because I had no money for the hospital. Right now, my mom was surrounded by reporters at our front door, all because Seraphina became the top student. If someone hadn’t brought it up, she probably would’ve forgotten she even had another daughter. So, after three years, she finally bothered to unblock me and symbolically sent me two hundred dollars. Seeing no response from me, her face hardened instantly, and her phone clacked with furious typing. “Speak up. Don’t act like you’re dead.” “If you don’t want it, send it back.” Those cold, dismissive words dragged me back to that bone-chilling snowy night. I wanted to tell her I was already dead. Frozen to death, in that cheap winter coat she’d bought me. Winters up North are truly brutal. Without proper hospitalization, I just drifted off for a moment and never woke up again. But now, no one could hear my voice anymore. My mother, losing patience, finally dialed my number. The next second, she froze in disbelief. My phone number had been disconnected for a long time due to unpaid bills. Hearing the cold automated message, a flicker of panic crossed her tightly furrowed brow. She immediately sent a SnapChat message, fuming, “Oh, great! So now you change your number without telling your family, huh?” “All because of that two hundred dollars back then?!” Her frantic demeanor instantly piqued the reporters’ curiosity. But before a microphone could be extended, Seraphina, sharp-eyed, quickly interrupted. She bit her lip for the camera, “My sister is incredibly stubborn. She’s been mad at Mom for three years, all because Mom didn’t send her a birthday gift.” “In these three years, she hasn’t come home once, nor has she even called Mom or Dad.” Tears welled up as she spoke, and she slowly looked up at the most photogenic angle. “If I could, I’d like to apologize to my sister on Mom’s behalf.” My mom paused, then her eyes welled up, understanding Seraphina’s unspoken cue. She willingly took all the blame herself. “You can only blame me for being inadequate,” she wailed. “I couldn’t provide your sister with a privileged life.” “It’s all my fault.” With that, she let out a loud, heartbroken cry in front of millions of online viewers. Her anguished performance quickly filled the live chat with hateful comments. All of them were condemning me. But facing all of it, I was already beyond caring. After all, on that snowy night three years ago, I had been bound by some unseen force to stay by these two women. I watched, helpless, as my mom used the “tuition money” she claimed she couldn’t afford to rent that three-bedroom apartment. She used the two hundred dollars she’d saved from me to buy Seraphina a new puppy. And because she worried the puppy wouldn’t have enough space in the living room, she converted one of the bedrooms into a doggy room. Afterward, she even worked three jobs, just so Seraphina could eat lobster and crab to “boost her health.” And all the hardships she endured because of it, those somehow became my fault. She would sigh repeatedly to Seraphina, “If only your sister were more considerate, Mom wouldn’t have to work so hard.” That night, I cried until all my tears dried up. Only then did I understand that no matter how much I scrimped and saved, or how many ways I found to make her happy with the money I saved, In her heart, I was worth far less than a cheap peeler Seraphina had given her over a decade ago. Now, I was utterly disillusioned with them. I wouldn’t let such trivial things upset me anymore. I only wished to be reborn soon, to finally sever this abominable family tie. But I never imagined that before the disgust in my heart could fully digest,
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