The night before the college entrance exam, my stepsister poured boiling water all over me. My forehead, face, and hands were all burned to varying degrees. The doctor told me I needed to be hospitalized immediately. I refused. I still had to take the exam. This was the biggest turning point in my life, and I couldn’t miss it. The doctor shook his head as he prescribed burn cream and antibiotics. My dad impatiently scolded me: “Why did you provoke her in the middle of the night?” I was already in pain, and years of pent-up resentment finally burst out! Standing on the empty street, I shouted: “How did I provoke her? I was sound asleep, how could I have provoked her?” “Dad, your favoritism is too much! That kettle in our house had just boiled water! She was trying to kill me!!!” “People in hell always try their best to drag others down with them!” My dad slapped me across the face. I was stunned. The burn layered with the slap, and I was in so much pain I could barely breathe. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I was just a child no one cared about. In the eyes of my dad and my birth mom, I was always unwanted… I kept thinking over and over: “Why didn’t I just die? All these years, why did I fight so hard to stay alive?” My trembling hand touched my face. The burning, stinging areas had indeed broken skin. My dad didn’t continue scolding me. He turned and walked towards home, and I silently followed behind him.
My dad had a mistress. I knew about this since kindergarten. My mom would cry and threaten suicide every other day. Later, one afternoon, she heard my dad was at a hotel with that woman and rushed over. But then a once-in-a-century earthquake struck. My mom was crushed under a concrete slab and lost a leg. My dad and his mistress escaped unscathed. It was May 12, 2008, in Hanwang, Sichuan province. That year, there were many heartwarming stories in the news. Influenced by the overall atmosphere, my dad didn’t divorce. But my mom lost her job due to her disability. Her personality became even more volatile and weak. She would threaten suicide frequently, saying she wanted to die to spite my dad. The following year, my dad divorced my mom against all odds and married that woman, moving to a new city. I went with my dad. First, because my dad was in a better financial situation, while my mom had no job. Second, my mom didn’t want me. She said I was from the Parker family, so why should she raise a Parker child? As for that woman… Her name was Bella White. She was my mom’s best friend. When she got together with my dad, she was already married. In other words, she and my dad were having an affair with each other. When she married into our family, she brought along a daughter who was the same age as me, just two months younger. She claimed the girl was my dad’s child. From then on, I had a stepmother and a stepsister. What’s it like having a stepmother? Like the evil queen in Snow White, always plotting to kill the daughter of the original wife? Or treating the original wife’s daughter like her own, no matter how much the daughter hates or mistreats her, always having a kind and forgiving heart, leading to a happy ending? Reality isn’t so extreme. It’s hard for anyone to be completely fair, let alone a woman who had an affair and even stole her best friend’s husband. What could you expect? Those years… Whatever my stepsister had, I had too! Whatever my stepsister didn’t have, I still had! My stepsister’s clothes would eventually become my clothes. When they were old, short, or no longer liked, they became mine. My stepsister was a picky eater. The dishes she didn’t want to eat, leftover snacks, stationery she thought was ugly or didn’t like – those all became mine. We were in the same school and same class. Everyone knew we were sisters. Some people secretly asked me: “Zoe, were you adopted?” “No.” “If not, why do you always take Olivia’s leftovers?” I explained over and over that I was my dad’s biological daughter, that my mom was my dad’s legal wife, and that Olivia’s mom was the mistress who stole my dad. This spread quickly, passing through countless mouths, embellished countless times. By the time it reached my ears again, it was completely distorted. Because of this, Olivia became famous at school. Many people cursed her for being the daughter of a mistress, stealing what belonged to others. My dad and stepmom beat me harshly. They said I was an ungrateful wretch, that when they divorced they shouldn’t have kept me, they should have left me to fend for myself with my crippled mom. They transferred Olivia to the best and most expensive private school in the area. Her clothes, shoes, and stationery were all replaced with better ones. My stepmom said to give me the old ones. Olivia screamed, smashing the old stationery on the ground, using scissors to cut up the clothes, poking holes in the shoes, saying she’d rather destroy them than give them to me. I stood at the bedroom door. Not waiting for Olivia to finish her tantrum, I turned and went back to my room. This was my and Olivia’s room: “Two closets, one bed, one floor mat.” The bed had a pink mosquito net and matching pink bedding. The first time I lay on that bed, it felt so comfortable! Lying there, I felt like I had become a princess. A few minutes later, Olivia screamed again: “Zoe Parker! You rotten person, how dare you sleep on my bed? Get off right now!” My stepmom ran in with Olivia. Together, they grabbed my hair and dragged me off the bed, throwing me to the floor. I clutched my aching scalp, looking at them defiantly and angrily: “I’ve been sleeping on the floor for 4 years. It’s time I slept on the bed!” Back then, when we first moved to this city and this home, my dad and stepmom had told me and Olivia to discuss who would sleep on the bed and who on the floor, or to take turns. I was so stupid! I volunteered to let Olivia have the bed. My dad and stepmom praised me greatly, saying I was sensible and knew to let my sister have it. To get their praise, many things after that followed the same pattern. New clothes – Olivia wears them first. New stationery – Olivia uses it first. New toys – Olivia plays with them first… Whatever Olivia doesn’t want, don’t waste it, just give it to me… In this family, I was basically treated like a beggar. My stepmom walked up to me and kicked me, looking down at me condescendingly: “Zoe Parker, people need to know their place. In our family, you’re just a dog.” “If we want to keep you, you’re a house dog. If we don’t want to keep you, you’re a stray dog.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word dripped with viciousness.
I didn’t want to be a dog. I’d rather fend for myself with my mom. I took the $300 I had stolen from home and returned to my hometown. My mom lived in resettlement housing, still unemployed, surviving on welfare. My mom didn’t welcome me. She snatched away the $300 I had, then told me to get lost, to go find my dad. In that moment, my whole world collapsed. I was unwanted. In my mind, the thoughts of ‘suicide’ and ‘clinging to life’ were like two little people pulling desperately at each other. In the end, I gritted my teeth and returned to the place where I was treated like a dog. Waiting for me were cold mockery and sarcasm. My dad beat me, saying I was up to no good, running away from home. A few days later, Olivia finally discovered her allowance was missing. My dad was about to beat me again, telling me to hand over the money. I shouted that my mom had taken the money, if he had the guts he should go ask her for it! My dad fell silent and let go of me. That night, Bella covered my mouth with one hand and viciously pinched my thigh over a dozen times with the other. I was in so much pain I broke out in a cold sweat. I struggled and bit down hard on the webbing between her thumb and index finger. I asked her: “My mom was your best friend. Aren’t you afraid of going to hell for treating me like this?” She sneered: “Your mom doesn’t even care about you. What do I have to be afraid of?” I was momentarily speechless. I went to the bathroom and took off my pants to look. My thigh was covered in bruises. After that day… It was as if Bella had discovered a new world. Whenever she was in a bad mood, she would pinch my thighs. This spot was good – hidden, wouldn’t be seen by others. Olivia’s grades weren’t good. She had been below average in our class before, and remained below average at her new school. Bella felt embarrassed, especially after comparing Olivia’s grades to mine. She would curse loudly at home… “Look at you! All the family’s money is spent on you, and what’s the result? As stupid as a pig! Can’t even do better than Zoe! I’m telling you, if you don’t score higher than her next time, don’t call me mom anymore!”… Olivia hated me. Besides secretly cutting holes in my pants, hiding needles in my coat, she would also steal my homework notebooks, tear up my textbooks, pour ink on my books… This went on for several years. One night, after I finished washing up and was about to apply face cream, I noticed obvious signs of tampering in the baby lotion, with a faint smell of nail polish remover. I hesitated for a moment, then decisively scooped out a dollop of cream and applied it to my face. My face immediately felt like it was on fire. To be honest, compared to my dad hitting me or Bella pulling my hair, this really wasn’t much. But I screamed and ran into the bathroom to look in the mirror. My cheeks turned red at a visible rate, with countless small rashes appearing on the skin surface. I angrily ran back to the bedroom, scooped out a large glob of cream, and lunged at Olivia to smear it on her face. Olivia screamed too. My dad and Bella rushed in and pulled me away to save Olivia. I shouted at my dad, accusing him of favoritism, asking if he would only be happy once Olivia killed me. Bella was very calm. She interrupted me, saying we should go to the hospital first, that a girl’s face couldn’t be ruined. My dad nodded. Then they took me to a clinic. Again, a clinic… They had just said we’d go to the hospital, but we ended up at a clinic. Hah, all these years, every time Olivia got sick it was the big hospital, while for me it was always the small clinic. That’s right, Olivia was the precious darling who couldn’t risk anything going wrong. I was just a pebble on the roadside – keeping me barely alive was enough. The doctor asked what I had used. I angrily pointed at Olivia and shouted that it was the baby lotion she had poisoned. Bella rushed forward and slapped me across the face, saying I was talking nonsense, that I was just a child making baseless accusations without seeing anything! The clinic fell silent. Everyone looked at us. I planted both hands on the doctor’s desk, my chest heaving violently. I bit my lip as big teardrops fell onto the desk… People around us pointed and whispered, saying Bella had hit me too hard. Bella panicked and explained that things had happened so suddenly, that she was just worried I would develop bad habits. The result of this incident was… Bella gave me $50 to buy a new bottle of baby lotion, telling me to keep the change as pocket money and not to talk about this outside. My dad finally gave up the facade of family harmony and fairness, telling me to live in the school dorms.
I laughed. I had traded a brief allergic reaction on my face for a degree of freedom, no longer having to see those three people every day. In the years that followed… In 8th grade, my grades plummeted from the top 3 in the class to the bottom 5-10, especially in math and science. I was always last on every test. I often cried under the covers on weekends at home. I wouldn’t speak during the day, and would pull my hair out while doing homework. Every time I couldn’t finish my homework, a clump of hair would fall out. Bella sneered countless times: “Hmph, I thought you were some kind of academic genius. Now you’re showing your true colors!” “Whether you’re a donkey or a horse, you only find out after running a few laps!” In 9th grade, my grades stabilized at second to last in the class. Why second to last? Because the last place was firmly occupied by the king of underachievers in our class, Ethan. On 100-point tests, I would hover around 60 points. But him? He didn’t even hover. He was always below 60, occasionally in the 30s. Very eye-catching. During this time, without the pressure of my academic superiority, Olivia had an easier time at home. Then came the high school entrance exam. I scraped by, accidentally performing poorly and scoring just a few points higher than Olivia. My dad couldn’t bear to send his precious daughter to a regular high school, so he spent $5000 to get Olivia into a key high school. As for me, of course I went to a regular high school. In my dad’s words, Olivia had underperformed, while I had overperformed. In 10th grade, as luck would have it, Ethan and I were classmates again. On registration day, he whistled at me, his smile incredibly smug: “What a coincidence! Eternal second-to-last.” I finally understood. He was like me – those terrible grades we got all year were deliberately achieved. With our actual scores, we couldn’t have gotten into high school at all. I walked over and looked him up and down: “Mr. Method Actor, what score did you actually get?” He told me a number. Wow! My score was already barely scraping by. His was even lower, just barely above the admission cutoff. “You didn’t do your research, did you? The admission scores for the past 5 years have varied by less than 3 points.” His smile held a hint of mockery: “We’re in high school now. Want to keep competing with me?” “For last place?” I smiled back. He raised an eyebrow. High school material was much harder than middle school, especially math. For some people, it was like entering hell mode. Olivia’s grades plummeted. No matter how much Bella watched her study, how many tutoring classes she signed her up for, how many practice books she bought her, it was all useless. I still went home every weekend. First, to maintain my image as a student driven crazy by poor grades. Second, to see how Olivia was doing, and to witness Bella turning into a roaring beast every time she heard about Olivia’s grades. Olivia would occasionally rebel. “You’re so amazing, why don’t you do it? You can’t even do middle school math, what right do you have to yell at me? Zoe’s a bad student too, how come you don’t yell at her?” … “Are you just projecting what you can’t do onto me?” … “I hate studying, and I hate you!” My dad couldn’t stand it anymore. He pointed at me countless times and told Bella: “Don’t push too hard. Let the kids find their own way. Don’t drive Olivia crazy!” Bella was both distressed and exasperated. She turned to take out her anger on me, her claws swooping towards my waist. Did she think I was some pushover who would be afraid of her? As soon as her hand reached out, I slapped it away. Then I curled up in a ball in the corner, pulling my hair and screaming hysterically. “Aunt Bella, have mercy, have mercy!” Bella cared about face to some extent. Afraid the neighbors would hear and spread rumors of an “evil stepmother”, she had no choice but to back off. After that, my life got a little better. I would scream.
Ethan shamelessly held onto last place in the entire grade. Converting to a 100-point scale, he would score in the 30s for math, physics and chemistry each time. His language, English, history and politics were slightly better, in the 50s! I really didn’t want to comment, but I had secretly flipped through the “5 Years of College Entrance Exam, 3 Years of Simulations”, “Golden Exam Papers”, “Must-Do Exam Questions” and “Dragon Gate Special Topics” hidden in his drawer… Damn, this guy was doing even more practice problems than me! His handwriting was messy and rushed. “Ethan, what exactly are you doing?” I asked one day at lunch when no one else was in the classroom, drumming on his desk. “What’s the point of scoring so low every time?” “There is a point,” he suddenly looked up and stared at me intently, his eyes bright. “More valid than your reasons.” I couldn’t help but clench my jaw, wanting to ask if he had investigated me. Before I could speak, he smiled. … “Zoe, want to make a bet?” … “Bet on what?” … “See who can get into Clearwater University.” Clearwater was my goal too. I had been preparing since elementary school and had some confidence. “Alright, loser buys dinner.” “Let’s add one more condition – loser has to be the winner’s girlfriend.” Me: “…” Ethan and I weren’t dating, except for that vague hint of attraction. Olivia knew how to dress up and was pretty. She often had many boys surrounding her like stars orbiting the moon. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t envious at all. Occasionally when we ran into each other on the way to and from school, Olivia would roll her eyes at me and whisper something to the group of boys. The boys would hiss at me and throw trash at me. One time, on the way back to school on a Sunday, a group of people were waiting for me at a street corner. They started walking towards me as soon as they saw me. Olivia was chewing gum as she walked in the middle. I took two steps back and turned to run. But I couldn’t outrun them… Someone grabbed my clothes from behind and flung me hard to the side. I slammed into a wall. The group swarmed me. Some kicked my legs, some punched my stomach. I was in so much pain I could barely scream. After the group finished beating me, Olivia told them to hold me down. She took out a razor blade and walked towards me. She said she was going to cut up my face. That day I was lucky. Among the people who shouted and tried to stop them was a teacher from their school. He yelled: “Which class are you from?” I vaguely heard someone say “Mr. Song” with a hint of fear in their voice. The group scattered. I slid down the wall. My body hurt and my legs were weak. I couldn’t stand up at all. “Young lady, are you alright? Should I take you to the hospital?” Mr. Song asked. I curled up in the corner, shaking my head as tears streamed down my face. Olivia and the others received major demerits at their school. Everyone in town was gossiping about this incident. Bella pinned Olivia to the bed and beat her viciously with a clothes hanger. However, she still felt I was the root cause. She thought I shouldn’t have run at the street corner, shouldn’t have screamed, and most of all, shouldn’t have freeloaded in their home all these years, making people dislike me. When she beat Olivia, she would beat me too, cursing me for being vicious. By now she no longer feared the reputation of being an evil stepmother. I avoided them whenever I could, and gradually stopped going home on weekends. Teenage boys and girls are at their most rebellious stage in life. Olivia didn’t feel there was anything wrong with getting people to beat me up. On the contrary, she thought it was cool! She grew even closer with that group of boys. I hid at school. Without all the chaos at home, I frantically did practice problems every day. If I wanted to change my fate and leave this family, studying was the only way.
There were three days off before the college entrance exam. I reluctantly returned home. To create a good study environment for Olivia, my dad and Bella tiptoed around like cats. Olivia was a poor student. She sat at her desk either spacing out or chewing on her pen, frowning. I couldn’t be bothered with these people. I just sat cross-legged on my floor mat and read. No matter what happened, once the exam was over, this family would have little to do with me. Two days later, the night before the exam. As if summoned by fate, I woke up in the middle of the night. A huge shadow inches away startled me! Olivia was standing next to my floor mat, holding a kettle of water motionless in both hands. I shot up… “What are you doing?” Olivia let out a piercing scream, as if she was the one who had been frightened. A large kettle of freshly boiled water splashed towards my face. I instinctively pulled up the blanket to shield myself… This was my first time in a hospital since 2008. My dad brought me. Bella stayed home to comfort the “traumatized” Olivia. My forehead, face and hands all had varying degrees of burns. What do burns feel like? It’s like the flesh under a thin layer of skin has been scalded and cooked. It’s a constant, unrelenting pain that no nerves can block out. You can’t sleep, and it’s a living hell! Even with my writing skills, I still can’t fully describe it. The doctor told me I needed to be hospitalized immediately. I refused. I still had to take the exam. This was the biggest turning point in my life, and I couldn’t miss it. The doctor shook his head as he prescribed burn cream and antibiotics, telling me to be very careful these two days and not let the skin break, to avoid infection. Afterwards, on the way home, my dad impatiently said: “Why did you provoke her in the middle of the night?” I was already in pain, plus I was anxious and worried about not getting enough rest affecting the exam tomorrow. On top of that, years of pent-up resentment finally burst out. My temper flared up like a volcano erupting. Standing on the empty street, I shouted: “How did I provoke her? I was sound asleep, how could I have provoked her?” “Dad, your favoritism is too much! That kettle in our house had just boiled water! She was trying to kill me!!!” “People in hell always try their best to drag others down with them!” My dad slapped me across the face. I was stunned. The burn layered with the slap, and I was in so much pain I could barely breathe. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. I was just a child no one cared about. In the eyes of my dad and my birth mom, I was always unwanted… I kept thinking over and over: That year, when my mom snatched away the $300 I had stolen and told me to get lost, why didn’t I just die? All these years, why did I fight so hard to stay alive? My trembling hand touched my face. The burning, stinging areas had indeed broken skin. My dad didn’t continue scolding me. He turned and walked towards home, and I silently followed behind him. That night, the moon was high, clear and bright. The shadows were long. I didn’t sleep at home. I took my exam admission ticket, packed my bag and left. I didn’t have money for a hotel, so I found some steps outside the exam school and sat there all night, hugging my knees with my eyes closed. The next day, exam takers started arriving early. I didn’t want to move at all. Exhaustion swept over my whole body, and my mind was foggy. “Zoe Parker!”
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