When my parents divorced, they both fought tooth and nail for my younger sister, treating me like a plague they couldn’t wait to escape. Ultimately, I was awarded to my father. My mother held my sister’s hand, watching gleefully from the sidelines as my father slapped me across the face. “Hit her harder! Beat her to death so you don’t have to raise her! It’ll save you so much trouble!” The stepmother who had just walked through the door picked me up. “From now on, I am your mother. Do you understand?” Years later, I bought my stepmother a mansion and a luxury car. Meanwhile, my biological mother, who hadn’t shown her face in years, lay in a hospital bed, crying and begging me to save her life. I smiled as I peeled her fingers off my arm. “You can go ahead and die now. Rest assured, I won’t save you.” 1 Less than six months after the divorce, my father remarried. The woman was a divorcee, three years younger than my father. On the day of their wedding, I was locked in a storage closet. My father warned me, “If you dare cause any trouble today, I’ll beat you to death!” That evening, as the guests departed and the house gradually fell silent, I sneaked into the kitchen. While trying to cook some instant noodles, I accidentally knocked over a thermos. Boiling water splashed all over me, and I couldn’t stop a scream of agony from escaping my lips. The door across the hall creaked open, and a woman rushed in after hearing the noise. “What happened? Where did you get burned?” The woman picked me up. She had a faint, very pleasant fragrance. “You must be Mia, right?” I nodded, staring hungrily at the dried fruits on her bed and swallowing hard. She brought me a bunch of snacks, but I hesitated for a few seconds, afraid to take them. “Please don’t tell my dad, okay?” “Why not?” “I broke the thermos. He’ll beat me.” The woman let out a soft “Oh” and said, “I won’t tell him.” I was still anxious. “Pinky promise?” “Okay, pinky promise.” I ate like a starved bandit king. The woman watched me and started to laugh. “Do you know who I am?” I didn’t say a word. “From today on, I am your mother.” I froze mid-chew, my brain rapidly scrolling through all the fairy tales I knew: Snow White and the Evil Queen, Cinderella and the Wicked Stepmother… I was doomed. I was absolutely doomed! I stared blankly at my new stepmother. She frowned and asked, “How did your pants get dirty?” My heart seized. I quickly scrambled off the bed, only to see that a large stain had already soiled the clean bedsheets. Head down, I scrambled frantically toward the bathroom, but my stepmother grabbed my arm. “You’re on your period. Why aren’t you using a pad?” My entire face flushed crimson, as if I had been slapped. “Don’t say that word!” My stepmother looked confused. “Which word?” “That… that word.” “What ‘that’ word? You mean period? Has no one ever taught you about this?” I remained silent. The look in my stepmother’s eyes grew increasingly complex. The day I got my first period, I soiled my pants at school. A classmate’s mother comforted me, saying it was a good thing, proof that I was growing up, and told me I should ask my parents to make me a nice meal to celebrate. I ran home excitedly, but before I could even open my mouth, a vicious slap landed on my face. My mother stood with her hands on her hips, kicking me until I fell to the floor. Her booming voice assaulted my eardrums: “Have you no shame?! Swaying your ass around outside all day, afraid people won’t know you’re prime whore material?!” “If you’re so desperate, why even go to school?! I’ll tell your homeroom teacher tomorrow, and you can just go stand outside a nightclub! Let’s see which blind idiot picks you up!” I covered my pants, slowly getting up, stuttering as I tried to explain to my mother, but she immediately cut me off. “Your pants are dirty, so who’s going to wash them for you?! Who?! Do you think I’m a maid, that this whole family exists just to serve you?! You literally can’t go a single day without acting like a slut!” I was ten years old. Because I got my period, I was forced to kneel on the bathroom floor for an entire day. “Mom, my pants are dirty, and I’m still bleeding…” “Let it bleed! What’s the point of telling me?! Get back to your room, you disgraceful little bitch!” I had never used a sanitary pad. Every month, getting my period felt like a massive, humiliating test. If I bled, I had to use toilet paper to pad my underwear. If I used too much, I was scolded for being selfish. When my pants inevitably got dirty, the boys in class would whistle and jeer at me. My mother would just mock me: “Stop pretending! You want to be a whore but still want a monument to your chastity? I think you’re just a slut!” Later, I found out that my sister had a cold sore on her face that day, which might have affected her video shoot the next morning. My mother was angry and anxious, so she used me as a punching bag. My stepmother was the first person to teach me how to use a sanitary pad. She told me there was absolutely nothing shameful about it. She picked me up and looked me in the eyes. “From now on, I am your mother. Do you understand?” 2 My sister was beautiful, with big eyes and pale skin. Even though we were biological sisters, we looked absolutely nothing alike. She started working as a child model when she was very young and made a lot of money. She was the apple of everyone’s eye. My parents often sighed, “If only our precious baby had been born first, then we wouldn’t have needed the older one.” Even our names were worlds apart. When my sister was born, my parents practically wore out the dictionary and even hired a fortune teller to name her Lily, symbolizing happiness, perfection, and a smooth life. My name was Mia. It didn’t have any special meaning; it just meant I was the extra, unnecessary one in the family. So when they divorced, my parents each grabbed one of my sister’s arms, physically fighting over her custody. “Be a good girl, Lily. Stay with Mommy. Mom will buy you the most beautiful princess dresses and take you to France!” “Don’t listen to your mother’s nonsense! Daddy loves you the most. I’ve already bought a house just for you!” They argued endlessly. The judge, holding my hand, asked somewhat awkwardly, “Which of you is willing to take the older daughter?” In an instant, both my parents took a half-step back. One wailed that they were too poor to afford raising me, while the other claimed they were too careless and unsuited to raise a child. Ultimately, custody of my sister was awarded to my mother. She smiled so wide her mouth almost ripped. My father, furious at losing, slapped me across the face. “You jinx! I should have strangled you or drowned you when you were born!” My mother gloated from the sidelines. “Hit her harder! Beat her to death so you don’t have to raise her! It’ll save you so much trouble!” All I could do was curl myself tightly into a ball and keep my mouth shut. As long as I didn’t argue or open my mouth, I’d suffer a little less physical pain. After my stepmother arrived, my life actually improved. She combed my hair, made me breakfast, took me to school, and bought me several new sets of clothes—enough so that my hands wouldn’t be covered in frostbite during the dead of winter. My mother’s side of the family scoffed at this. My grandmother said stepmothers were all evil, calculating bitches who were just putting on an act to get their hands on my father’s meager assets. I defended my stepmother a little, and my grandmother was so furious she hit me with her cane. “You dead girl, you ungrateful little wretch! That woman has only been here a few days, and you’ve already forgotten your own mother?! You deserve to be unwanted!” Once, my stepmother took me shopping. I ran off on my own and ended up getting hit by a car, needing five stitches on my head. When I opened my eyes in the hospital, my biological mother—who hadn’t sent me a single message in a year—was hugging me, wailing loudly. “My poor daughter! It’s all Mommy’s fault, it’s Mommy’s mistake…” I pushed her away. A flash of embarrassment crossed her face before she pointed at my stepmother and began hurling abuse. “You bitch! How dare you abuse my daughter?! Do you think our family is dead?! You’re not leaving here today without giving us an explanation!” The relatives who had come with her were all filled with righteous indignation, spitting as they shouted, demanding my stepmother explain herself. I stood in front of her to shield her. “I tripped on my own. It wasn’t Auntie’s fault.” My mother grabbed me, desperately trying to twist me around to face the crowd. The cheap perfume she wore was so overpowering it made me want to throw up. “Look at this, everyone! Look how terrified this woman has made my poor Mia! She even taught her to lie!” I forcefully broke free from her grasp. “Are you done acting?! How long are you going to keep filming this?!” My mother’s face froze, and she cast a panicked glance at the crowd. The photographer had already slipped away. She was only doing this because my sister had recently been scouted by a talent agent. My mother was clearing away any potential obstacles to her career, which naturally meant she didn’t want the reputation of having abandoned her older daughter. Instead, she wanted to use my stepmother to craft an image of herself as a loving, victimized mother. She just hadn’t expected me to refuse to play along. “You child, I’ve just been so busy lately, but of course, you’re always in my heart…” “Is that so? Then pay my medical bill. It’s six hundred dollars.” My mother wrung her hands and started crying about how incredibly hard it was to raise my sister alone, and how ungrateful I was as an older daughter. In the sunlight, the jade bracelet on her wrist sparkled brightly. My stepmother, who had been silent until now, stood up, slapped the receipt onto my mother’s face, and glared at her sharply: “I already paid the bill. Get the hell out!” My mother immediately shut her mouth. 3 In truth, my stepmother wasn’t wealthy. If she were, she never would have married a useless loser like my father. My father held tight control over the family finances. Whenever I needed money for school supplies, he would glare at me darkly, pull a few crumpled bills from a stack, and throw them at my head: “Study, study, study! You study so much you’re practically dead, and all you know is how to ask for money! I’d be better off raising a pig!” “Why should I spend my money on you?! Figure it out yourself next time! If you can’t afford it, get out and go work in a factory!” I spent my days stressing over living expenses. That was when Julian approached me, waving hundred-dollar bills. “Hey, wanna make a deal?” Julian was a year below me, a notorious delinquent. At first, teachers tried to call his parents in, but Julian just started hitting people in the office, even causing a pregnant teacher to miscarry. His parents didn’t care either; they just paid a settlement of seventy or eighty thousand dollars, and the matter was swept under the rug. Julian became infamous—his family owned a company; they had money, so they could do whatever they wanted! Julian liked my sister, but they had recently fought and hadn’t spoken for days. Julian wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend to make her jealous. I glanced at the money in his hand and estimated it to be over a thousand dollars. To me, that was a massive sum. Julian watched me crouch down to pick up the money, looking at me like I was a dog being thrown scraps. “Well? It’s easy money.” “What do you want me to do?” Julian thought for a moment. “Write a few apology letters for me—they need to be poetic. Then write ‘I love you, Lily’ ten thousand times and fold them into paper cranes. And have lunch with me sometimes…” “That costs extra.” “Huh?” I shoved the thousand dollars into my pocket and negotiated terms with him. “Apology letters, paper cranes, having meals—those are all separate items and need to be billed accordingly.” Julian was hesitant at first, but after I mocked him with a few choice words, he grew furious. “Who says I don’t love Lily enough?! Here!” He angrily threw another three thousand dollars at me. Within a few days, my sister predictably lost her cool, especially when she saw Julian chatting with me. She looked like she wanted to lunge at me and claw my face off; she bit her lip until it bled. One afternoon, my father called me incessantly, ordering me to deliver something to Lily. Her classroom was empty, so I shoved the item into her desk and left. The next day, Lily ran to the teachers’ office, sobbing hysterically and demanding to know: “Sister, I don’t care if you hate me, but how could you steal money?!” 4 Lily was the class treasurer. Three thousand dollars she had kept in her desk—money for the entire class’s textbooks—was missing. I demanded they check the security cameras, but the teacher told me the school’s electronics were undergoing maintenance and couldn’t be viewed. Lily’s eyes were red. “It’s okay, sister. As long as you have the courage to admit your mistake, I’ll pay the money back for you. But you really need to stop hanging around Julian so much. What if you do something truly shameful…” The office fell silent. My biological mother was the first to arrive. Upon hearing this, she charged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. “You dead girl! If you want to go around seducing men, fine, but don’t drag your sister down with you! I’ll beat you to death!” Lily retreated to the side in a panic, looking utterly innocent. “Ah? Did… did I say something wrong? But I clearly saw my sister and Julian in the woods yesterday…” “Don’t be afraid, my precious! Your sister is a born slut, and her father refuses to discipline her, so today I’m going to teach this little bastard a lesson!” I struggled to my feet, laughing wildly. “Yes, I’m a slut! I’m a bastard! I have a mother who gave birth to me but never raised me—my mother died a long time ago!” “What did you say?! You little bitch, how dare you curse me!” My mother shrieked in fury. Just as the office descended into absolute chaos, the door banged open. My stepmother pulled me behind her, shouting fiercely: “I am Mia’s guardian! If you have a problem, take it up with me! An adult who only bullies a child—have you no shame?! Aren’t you afraid of karma?!” “Fine! Let’s settle this! How are we handling this accusation that Mia stole money?!” My stepmother touched my face, looked down, and asked gently, “Is what they’re saying true?” I shook my head. My biological mother flew into a rage. “Still pretending?! It was clearly you! Birds of a feather flock together—you two are both bitches!” “Where is the evidence?” Lily immediately interjected. “Auntie, I saw it with my own eyes…” My stepmother stared at her meaningfully for a few seconds. “So whatever you say is the truth? Well, I say you stole the money! Little girl, being too scheming isn’t a good thing. Don’t treat everyone else like an idiot.” “Also, laying a hand on my daughter without a shred of evidence—I can sue you for that! Are the teachers here dead?! You just stand there watching them cause a scene and don’t even try to stop it?!” The homeroom teacher smiled tightly, attempting to smooth things over. “You said yourself there’s no evidence. Maybe we should just let this go…” “I have evidence.” 5 I played the video, watching as my biological mother’s face cycled from green to red, inflating like a balloon before finally exploding with a pop. The person in the video was my sister. Although the lighting was dim, it was easy to see that she was acting intimately with a boy. Ten minutes later, Julian was standing in the doorway, looking casual and indifferent. My mother was furious; she marched up, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped him. “You little animal! Is your entire family dead?! How dare you target my daughter!” Julian retaliated by punching my mother in the face. The artificial implant in my mother’s nose flew out and hit the homeroom teacher in the face. The situation became incredibly awkward. Lily threw herself onto Julian. “Mom, if you dare touch him, you might as well beat me to death! I don’t want to live anyway!” My mother almost choked on her own breath. I couldn’t help but laugh. My mother finally noticed me, her tone instantly softening. “Mia, can we just pretend this didn’t happen today? Your sister can’t have any negative press right now.” I drawled slowly, “But what about her framing me for stealing the money…” Before I could finish, Lily very conscientiously began slapping her own face. The force was weak; it hurt less than when my mother pinched me. I didn’t say a word. My mother gritted her teeth and slapped Lily on both sides of her face, her curses growing louder and louder. After the beating, Lily’s fake crying turned real. She was practically wailing, her face swollen like a puffy steamed bun. My stepmother grabbed my hand, turned around, and walked away. That night, my stepmother applied ointment to my bruises under the light of a desk lamp. She glanced at me. “If you want to cry, just cry. There’s no one else here. What if you hold it all in and make yourself sick?” My biological mother was incredibly heavy-handed. That kick to my chest still ached. I blinked. “I actually feel pretty badass. Lily got beaten way worse than I did, and she won’t be able to shoot any commercials for days. I’m too busy laughing to cry!” As I was getting ready for bed, my stepmother came to tuck me in. Two shallow dimples appeared on her face. “You’re right, you really are badass. Goodnight!” But my smile didn’t last long. My father suddenly cut off my tuition and ordered me to go work in a factory. I had been accepted into a prestigious high school, but my father absolutely refused to pay the tuition. He contacted a recruiter, packed my bags, and told me I could leave at any time. I remember kneeling for a very long time that day. I said everything I could think of. I kowtowed until my forehead bled. I promised that I would be a hundred times more filial, that I would repay him in full, if only he would let me go to school. I wanted to study. It was my only way out. My tears didn’t move my father. He threw an ashtray at me, cursing my delusional dreams and insisting I wasn’t cut out for studying. I realized later that this was Lily’s revenge. She was our parents’ cash cow. The moment she complained, my father inevitably sacrificed me to appease her. I was fifteen that year. I dragged an empty suitcase and followed a stranger to the factory. I worked day and night, losing track of time. The calluses on my hands tore open, but I couldn’t feel the pain. All I could see were the numb, exhausted eyes behind the surgical masks around me. Barring a miracle, I was going to be buried there, becoming just another walking corpse. My stepmother was that miracle. She appeared at the door of my dorm and slapped me hard across the face. It was the first time she had ever hit me. She looked thinner and darker. Her hands were shaking. She yelled at me: “Mia, what do you think you’re doing?! If you don’t go to school now, what are you going to do with your future?! If I hadn’t come, were you planning to live like this for the rest of your life?! You told me you wanted to go to the elite high school!” I was momentarily dazed. The elite high school… that felt like a lifetime ago. I hugged her and sobbed hysterically. I wanted to go to school, but fate loved to play jokes on me. This path was destined to be treacherous. My stepmother wiped away my tears. Her eyes were resolute. “Be good. Stop crying. I have money. I’ll pay for your schooling!” She took me home. My father was unhappy about it, but when he heard my stepmother was willing to pay, he shut his mouth. Entering the honors class, I clearly struggled to keep up, constantly hovering around twentieth place. That rank was enough for a good university, but far from my goal of an elite Ivy League-tier school. So, my stepmother hired a private tutor for me. I had no idea this would be the beginning of my nightmare.
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