My daughter was a jinx. The first word she ever spoke, as a toddler, was “die.” No one took it seriously at the time, but the very next day, her grandpa was hit by a truck and killed. When my daughter started kindergarten, her second sentence was: “The snow by the door is red.” Her grandma went downstairs for a walk and was instantly killed by a flowerpot falling from an upstairs window. Blood spilled everywhere, staining the white snow crimson. My husband was distraught; he wanted to get rid of our daughter. My daughter then uttered her third sentence: “Daddy, watch out for cars.” My husband was terrified, not daring to step out of the house. But he tripped on a toy car in the living room, suffered a brain hemorrhage, and died on the spot. I cried, begging my daughter to shut up, to stop cursing her own family. But her expression remained cold, devoid of any remorse. “Mommy, don’t go near fire.” I completely broke down. On Christmas Eve, I climbed onto the rooftop. I didn’t want to burn to death, so I chose my own way to die. But as I jumped, someone below was setting off fireworks. The brilliant fireworks exploded, hitting me, and I plummeted to my death amidst the shocked screams of onlookers. My daughter stood on the rooftop, watching me, her face utterly expressionless. Even in death, I couldn’t understand why the daughter I had cared for so meticulously would curse our entire family. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my daughter first learned to speak. This time, I finally understood what was going on with my daughter’s jinx!
The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my one-year-old daughter pointing at her grandpa and saying, “Die.” At first, no one reacted. Grandpa was still affectionately teasing her: “What is my sweet little Lily saying? Call me Grandpa, and Grandpa will give you candy!” But Lily’s small face remained cold, and she repeated, “Die.” A wave of fear and anger surged through me. I quickly clapped my hand over her mouth. “Don’t say that word! How can you wish for Grandpa to die?” Lily struggled, muffled by my hand, and began to wail, her face turning red from holding her breath. My father-in-law, Arthur, quickly intervened, “She’s just learning to talk, Sarah. Why are you getting so upset?” I pressed my lips together, my body trembling uncontrollably. “She’s cursing you!” Arthur paused, then laughed. “What are you talking about? She’s so young, how could she possibly know what ‘die’ means?” I didn’t know how to explain, so I could only tell Arthur to be careful when he went out these days. Especially to watch out for cars on the road. Arthur said he understood, but he didn’t take it seriously at all. I repeated the warning to my husband, David, who also laughed at me, saying I was overreacting. He looked at Lily tenderly, saying our daughter was anything but a jinx. He even tried to comfort me: “Sarah, are you having postpartum anxiety? Maybe you should take a break, and let my parents take care of Lily for a while?” A sudden chill ran through me. I immediately shook my head. No, absolutely not. What if Lily cursed someone else when I wasn’t around? But a sliver of hope remained in my mind—what if the previous incidents were just accidents? I hadn’t let Arthur leave the house for days, and I’d even put away all the toy cars. I was terrified of a repeat of what happened to David in my previous memory. After a few days at home, Arthur got bored. “I’m just going for a walk in the garden downstairs, don’t you worry about it!” I warned him repeatedly not to go anywhere near cars. But Arthur still had an accident.
He missed a step while going down the stairs, tumbling all the way down. His head landed precisely on a protruding nail. Arthur died on the spot. When the ambulance arrived, they immediately called the funeral home. My mother-in-law, Martha, knelt beside Arthur, sobbing uncontrollably: “How could this happen!” But her usually kind husband was gone forever, unable to hear her cries. David rushed back from work, his eyes immediately red with tears. Yet, he calmly contacted relatives and friends, preparing Arthur’s funeral. I held my innocent daughter, overwhelmed by guilt and self-blame. But Lily remained perfectly innocent, as if nothing had happened. I pinched her cheek, making her look at me: “Lily, tell Mommy? Why did you say that word?” “Why did you have to curse Grandpa?” But my daughter couldn’t answer. She cried even harder, distressed by my grip on her face. David heard her cries and quickly took her from me. He frowned, glaring at me: “This was just an accident, it has nothing to do with Lily!” My nose stung. How I wished it had nothing to do with my daughter. But Arthur was dead! From then on, I stopped talking to my daughter, and forbade everyone else from speaking to her. David incomprehensibly asked if I was having a mental breakdown, and Martha held Lily, condemning me. “Sarah, Arthur’s death was just an accident. How can you blame a child?” Lily played with her plush toy, flashing me an innocent smile. But I couldn’t help but shiver. I didn’t know how to avoid my daughter’s curses, so I could only warn my family members again and again. For these past few years, things had been quiet, and I had almost forgotten about the curse. Until that day, my daughter watched TV and spoke her second sentence: “The snow by the door is red.” My heart pounded. I immediately rushed downstairs and swept the snow by the door clean. Now, let’s see how that curse can possibly come true! But David’s urgent call came through. His voice was choked with tears: “Get to the neighborhood entrance, my mom had an accident!” My hands trembled as I locked Lily inside the house. When I sprinted to the entrance, I found Martha lying on the ground, covered in blood. The bag of salt she’d just bought was scattered across the ground, glinting like fresh snow under the sun… My daughter’s curse had come true again! Martha had been hit and killed by a car that ran a red light. But I was beyond caring about the driver’s apologies. I couldn’t let my daughter curse any more family members. I clutched the item in my pocket and turned back home.
Lily sat like a statue watching TV. When she heard me call her name, she rigidly turned her head. “Your grandma is dead. Don’t you have anything to say?” My daughter shook her head, neither crying nor making a fuss. But all I felt was a chill. Martha had lovingly raised her, and now the old woman was dead, and Lily felt nothing! I furiously grabbed her shoulders and demanded, “What exactly do you want?” “Why do you have to curse your own family?” Lily pouted, then started to cry: “Mommy, you’re hurting me!” I froze for a moment, then released her. It was then that I felt a flicker of humanity from my daughter. Otherwise, I would have thought she truly was a demon come to claim our lives. “Lily, promise me you’ll never curse your family again, okay?” But Lily’s gaze went past me, looking behind me. David, his face pale and drawn from taking Martha to the funeral home, walked in. My daughter spoke again: “Daddy, you also need to watch out for cars.” I gasped, then became furious. I slapped her across the face. “Why do you have to curse our family? Are you trying to kill Daddy and Mommy?” Lily had never been hit by me before. She immediately covered her face and wailed uncontrollably. David was heartbroken. He scooped Lily up and roared at me, “Sarah, can you please make things easier for me? What can a small child possibly do?” A lump formed in my throat. “Fine. If you don’t believe me, then don’t take it seriously!” David grabbed a few clothes, preparing to drive out and buy a burial plot. But as he headed to the garage, I regretted it. Now that Arthur and Martha were gone, I didn’t want David to die too! David must still have been angry; he didn’t answer my calls at all. I called for half an hour before finally getting through. David’s terrified voice came from the other end: “I was wrong! Our daughter really is a jinx! My brakes failed, Sarah, hurry and save me!” By the time I rushed there and got David to the hospital, the doctor told me he needed an amputation to save his life. I immediately agreed. As long as he was alive, that’s all that mattered. But Lily showed no emotion when she saw her dad lying in the hospital bed. Her coldness even chilled David to the bone. I blamed her in my heart, thinking this child was selfish, only caring about herself, only crying for herself. I even secretly found a child psychologist for Lily. The doctor, however, said Lily was fine and that we should simply interact with her less. Even doctors couldn’t find anything wrong. So I thought of the occult. But all the psychics I consulted looked terrified of Lily, saying they couldn’t help. After much deliberation, I decided to put that thing into Lily’s water cup. That night, Lily indeed cried out in pain.
I listened from the next room, tears streaming down my face with heartache. But I knew I had to do this. Otherwise, next time, it might be me who died. The next morning, I opened the door to Lily’s room. The walls were covered with her scratch marks. She was scratching her own neck like a trapped animal, her eyes red, staring at me with hatred. I cried and hugged her: “Forgive Mommy, Mommy didn’t want to do this.” After I gave her the silencing concoction, my daughter became mute. We had gone from a happy family to this. But this was still much better than everyone dying, as in my previous memory. I worked diligently, wanting to take care of everyone in the family. But ever since David became disabled, his personality had grown strange. Every time I came home from work, I’d see his sullen face. If the food I cooked wasn’t to his liking, he’d suddenly throw the utensils. “Sarah, let’s get a divorce!” I was stunned for a long time, then frantically asked if I had done something wrong. He pointed at Lily and me, cursing, “If it weren’t for you two, my parents wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t be a cripple!” I was consumed by guilt, begging him not to leave us, mother and daughter. I pulled Lily over, wanting her to apologize too. But Lily immediately shook off my hand and ran back to her room. I cried and hugged David, “I only have you, please don’t leave us, okay?” David was silent for a moment, then hugged me back, suppressing a low growl: “Why? What did we ever do to her?” I also didn’t know why my daughter would curse us. What had we done wrong? Lily treated David and me like enemies. But I had forgotten one thing: she couldn’t speak, but she could write. While cleaning Lily’s room, I found her writings in a diary. ‘Daddy and Mommy, don’t go near fire, watch out for burning to death!’
I clutched that piece of paper, feeling as if all my strength had drained away. I didn’t understand why my daughter would curse us. In my previous memory, even when she killed my whole family, I didn’t blame her. Was it really karma from my previous life? Was she here to take revenge on me? David wheeled himself in. When he saw the diary in my hand, his face immediately turned white. Lily came home from school. Seeing us looking at her diary, she angrily snatched it and tore it up. David’s face turned red with rage. He pointed at his legs and yelled, “Isn’t it enough that you crippled me? What else do you want to do, burn your own parents to death?” Lily looked at us with hatred, then pointed to her throat. My heart tightened, and I guiltily said, “Lily, Mommy did it for the family’s well-being, I had to…” “Why are you explaining to her? You’re right, she’s a demon sent from heaven to torment us!” “If I could choose, I’d rather not have this daughter!” Lily scoffed, turned, and walked out the door. I worriedly wanted to chase after her, but David called me back. His hands tightly gripped the armrests of his wheelchair as he snarled, “How long do you plan to indulge her? Will you only be satisfied when she kills us all?!” I stammered, lowering my head: “After all, she’s our child! What can I do?” A cruel glint flashed in David’s eyes. “Sarah, we can have other children, but this demon will kill us eventually!” For some reason, my heart felt empty, a sharp ache. David continued, “I’ve secretly asked a psychic, and there’s only one way to break the curse.” David swallowed hard: “That is to give the curse back to her!” I almost lost my balance, directly knocking over the glass of water on the table. The clatter startled me. I instinctively objected, “This is our daughter! How could I burn her alive?” David grabbed my hand, soothingly, “Sarah, do you want her to kill you? Even if she kills our whole family, fine, but what if she goes out into society and harms others?” This made me hesitate. I didn’t know if my daughter was truly a legendary sociopath. I didn’t even know how she was cursing us. But I didn’t want more innocent people to die because of her. Finally, I reluctantly agreed to David’s suggestion. After Lily returned, I gave her a sleeping pill. I quietly turned on the gas stove in the kitchen and sealed all the doors and windows. David was in the room packing suitcases, his face unable to hide his joy. “We finally don’t have to live in fear anymore!” I forced a smile and helped him pack. Until I saw a family photo. I froze on the spot, trembling violently. I understood. I finally understood why my daughter cursed our entire family!
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