My twin sister Kayla inherited my dad’s asthma. When I was eight, my father died suddenly from an asthma attack, and my mother poured all her attention into Kayla. Mom would always lecture me earnestly: “Kayla is sick. You’re the older sister—you need to take care of her.” But even though I was the older sister, I was only three minutes older than my younger sister. At twenty years old, the moment I got home, Mom slapped me across the face for no reason. Kayla, clutching her chest with a pale face, leaned against the doorframe. Mom pointed at a bouquet of carnations on the table and scolded me harshly. “You know Kayla can’t handle pollen, and you still brought flowers home!” She slapped me again. Then she helped the gasping Kayla walk out the door. I tried to follow them, but suddenly felt my throat constrict and couldn’t breathe. It turned out that during last month’s physical exam, the doctor said I might have asthma too. The cake in my hands fell to the floor. I curled up on the ground in agony, my consciousness gradually fading. Mom, the carnations are paper. The birthday cake is for you. But I don’t want to love you anymore.
Today was a special day. Having finished work early, I rushed home anxiously. Opening the door, I was met with Mom’s unquestioning slap. “Julia Hayes! What did you do to make Kayla sick again!” “How many times do I have to tell you! In this house, Kayla comes first! Don’t you ever understand?” I stood frozen in disbelief, my cheek swelling high, a piercing pain spreading along with an unspeakable suffocation. Mom carefully protected my sister in her arms. My sister’s eyes stared straight at me, carrying emotions I couldn’t understand. “Mom, Mom, I feel terrible! So terrible!” I snapped back to reality and instinctively moved forward to help. Even though she’d never been close to me all these years, there was still some inexplicable hope in my heart. After all, she was my sister. “Are you trying to hurt Kayla again?!” Mom raised her hand to block me. The momentum sent me crashing heavily to the side. I hit the door handle. Blood seeped from my forehead. But Mom only looked at my trembling sister, coaxing her gently. “Don’t be afraid. Mom called an ambulance. We’ll take you to the hospital right away.” Then she hurriedly carried her on her back and rushed out the door without looking at me again. “I’ll settle accounts with you when I get back! Throw out those damn flowers right now!” But Mom, the red carnations on the coffee table weren’t real flowers. They were everlasting flowers I painstakingly folded from tissues. Because of my sister’s asthma, you hadn’t received flowers once in twenty years. I just wanted you to receive a bouquet of your own flowers on your birthday… The pain in my body and the suffocating sensation in my throat surged over me. I sprawled awkwardly on the ground, gasping for air in large gulps. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Ever since I mysteriously broke out in hives all over my body last month, I’d occasionally have moments when I couldn’t catch my breath. The doctor’s diagnosis wasn’t a simple allergy. He suggested I do specialized tests and didn’t rule out the possibility of asthma. Because I didn’t want to worry my family, I’d planned to wait until the end of the month for the test results before deciding what to do. I never expected… “Mom… don’t…” In the mess of cream on the floor, I reached out with difficulty toward their gradually disappearing backs, my voice weak and hoarse. Don’t go, Mom. Happy birthday.
My heart raced frantically. I felt breathing becoming increasingly difficult. The instinct to survive made me use all my strength to crawl toward the door. “Help… save… save me…” The neighbors across the hall were still there. It was dinnertime—they must be home. But just as I was about to knock on the door, I completely lost my strength. Curled up on the ground, images from the past twenty years in this house suddenly flashed through my mind. Ever since I could remember, I’d noticed that my sister was different from other people’s sisters. Not because of her genetic disease, but because she wasn’t close to me. Other sisters were intimately close and shared everything, but my sister didn’t like me. She even detested me. From childhood, Mom had constantly lectured me to accommodate my sister in everything and take care of her. She always told me, “Julia, you’re the older sister. You’re Mom’s most well-behaved and sensible child. You need to take good care of your sister.” When I was nine, I persisted for a whole month and finally completed the task the teacher assigned of memorizing ancient poems. I excitedly brought home a potted plant as my prize, wanting to tell Mom about it and have her praise me. But she just angrily smashed the plant on the floor, shattering my hopes along with it. “What’s wrong with you, Julia? Plant mold can trigger Kayla’s asthma! Are you doing this on purpose?!” “No, the teacher gave this to me as a reward…” “Still making excuses! Go stand in the corner and think about what you did. You’re not eating until you figure it out!” Mom carried my sister into the bedroom, leaving me alone to clean up the mess on the floor. My tears of grievance dripped into the wet soil. After that, no plants were ever allowed in the house again. Even the dance I’d loved since childhood—just because my sister said: “When my sister dances, my heart races and I can’t breathe.” Mom threw away the red dance shoes Dad had given me. “You can’t dance anymore from now on.” I stared wide-eyed in shock, unable to believe it. Why could my sister play the piano she loved, but I couldn’t dance what I loved? “Piano cultivates temperament and calms the mind. It’s good for stabilizing emotions.” “Julia, you’re the older sister. You need to be understanding. Kayla can’t be stimulated. Give in to her a little!” No! Why?! This isn’t fair! “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s my body that’s not good enough. Don’t blame Julia.” Kayla Hayes cried so hard she could barely breathe, looking utterly pitiful. Mom’s heart ached. She kept patting her back and no longer cared about my reaction. From then on, I was no longer allowed to dance. But Kayla sat on the piano bench in the living room, her fingers flying across the keys, melodious notes pouring out. I sat slumped on the floor, listening in a daze. It was “Canon”—such a happy melody, yet I felt only sadness.
After losing my dream, Mom said I’d grown up and could better take care of my sister. To prevent Kayla from suddenly falling ill, I gradually learned to prepare water at 37 degrees, check her temperature three times daily, turn the air purifier on and off on schedule, carry an inhaler with me at all times… She was like a fragile porcelain doll. If she so much as coughed once, Mom would become tense with nerves. She’d blame me for not taking good care of my sister, for not shouldering my responsibilities as the older sister. Gradually, I became quieter and quieter. But Mom started praising me for becoming more like a proper older sister. Just when I thought my sister’s condition was stabilizing and life would slowly improve— Kayla suddenly said she wanted to take a walk in the nearby park. Mom disagreed, afraid that crowded spaces with bad air would make it hard for her to breathe. “Just let me go, Mom. Julia will come too. Nothing will happen.” Kayla shook Mom’s arm, acting adorably coy. I watched quietly from the side, unsure what she was trying to do. “Besides going to school, I can only stay cooped up at home. It’s so boring. Just let me go out for a walk~” Mom eventually softened and agreed to her request, ordering me to take good care of my sister. I obediently took Kayla out and accompanied her as she walked around the small park. This used to be my little sanctuary. Whenever I felt unhappy, I’d come here and stay for a while. Looking at the tall trees, bright flowers, cheerful birds, and playing children. Kayla wove through the crisscrossing paths, extremely excited. Seeing the upturned corners of her mouth—she was genuinely happy—I felt relieved for the first time in a long while. My sister must just have been cooped up at home too long, which was why she wasn’t close to me. Seeing her walk toward the flower beds, my heart tightened. I quickly caught up with her. “Kayla, don’t go over there!” Before we even reached the flower beds, my sister suddenly collapsed on the ground. I held her as she coughed violently and frantically searched for medicine in my backpack. “Don’t panic, don’t panic. Come on, take a deep breath—” “Kayla?!” Just as I was fumbling to guide my sister through relieving her symptoms, Mom’s shocked voice exploded in my ears. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder. The next second, I was pushed away. “Julia Hayes! Explain to me what’s going on right now!” “Kayla’s condition has been so stable recently. How did she have an attack the moment she went out with you? What did you let her come into contact with?!” Yes, her condition had been under control. I’d been so careful watching her too. What could have caused this? Enduring the pain in my shoulder, I finally found the inhaler. Mom snatched it away and pressed it to Kayla’s face, which was red from coughing. Before long, the ambulance arrived. I wanted to go with them, but Mom pushed me off. “You can’t even watch one person properly. You disappoint me so much.” The vehicle roared away. Where they’d left, I picked up a pink wild rose. Looking at the stem clearly snapped by fingernails, and remembering the triumphant curve of Kayla’s mouth before we left— I couldn’t help but smile bitterly, my heart growing desolate.
My body grew colder and colder. I couldn’t help but shiver. One hand instinctively reached for my neck, but found only emptiness. I remembered then—the longevity lock Dad had given me had long been taken away by Mom because of my sister. When my sister and I were born, Dad specially carved two longevity locks himself, praying for our health and safety. Originally, my sister and I each wore one around our necks. Later, my sister’s went missing somewhere. Mom was afraid she’d throw a tantrum if she saw mine and worsen her condition, so she simply put mine away too. Out of sight, out of mind. Later, while cleaning, I found the longevity lock again. I secretly took it out and hid it under my pillow, only daring to touch it quietly late at night. Mom gave all her attention and focus to my sister. Only this longevity lock Dad left behind belonged completely to me. Whenever I looked at it, it was as if I could feel Dad gently stroking my head, smiling and saying I was the most like him—quiet and steady. Whenever I lost motivation, this longevity lock gave me endless courage, allowing me to grit my teeth and persevere. But even this one thing, Kayla wouldn’t let me have. “What’s this? It’s so pretty.” She held scissors in one hand and hooked the longevity lock’s chain with the other. “Oh? There are words on it? Let me see…” “‘Julia’? Ha, what a pity!” I panicked and rushed over, but was still a step too late. I could only watch helplessly as she cut the lock to pieces and, as if not satisfied, tore apart the chain in a frenzy. I trembled all over as I picked up the pieces one by one. Mom swept into the room like a whirlwind. “What are you doing to provoke Kayla! Go apologize to her right now! Don’t make me…” Her words suddenly died in my breakdown of tears. “It was her! She destroyed the lock Dad left me! This is the only thing that belongs to me! Why should I apologize?!” “Why are you so biased?! I’m your child too…” She had everything I’d sought but never obtained, effortlessly. Why did she have to take away my only keepsake? Why?! I screamed, unable to stop trembling all over. The fragments dug into my clenched palms, drawing blood. A sharp, dense pain rose in my chest. Mom couldn’t believe that her usually obedient daughter would lose control like this. She froze for a moment. “Julia, this… the floor is cold. Get up first.” Just as her heart softened and she bent down to help the distraught me up, Kayla suddenly screamed. “Ah! Mom! Hhh…” I watched her stiffen for an instant, determination flashing in her eyes. Without hesitation, she got up and rushed toward Kayla, who was clutching her throat. I instantly lost all strength and slumped to the floor, an absurd sense of “of course” rising in my heart. Hobbies, dreams, freedom, love… Gone. Everything was gone. I couldn’t even keep this tiny little lock chain! How pitiful, Julia Hayes. What exactly are you still hoping for?! My hand dropped heavily from my empty neck. My vision grew blurrier. Before my consciousness completely faded, I saw Mrs. Smith’s terrified face.
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