After a Long Time, I Finally Knew That Mommy and Daddy Don't Love Me

I always thought siblings should be treated equally. Which was why whenever my mother bought me a little dress, I would ask her to pick out something for my little brother, too. When my father bought me a new backpack, I insisted that my brother should also get one. Even when we had cake, I urged my parents to buy several different flavors—whatever I had, my brother should have too. My kindergarten teacher always taught us about fairness and I never forgot that. Still, my parents didn't seem to agree. Everything my brother wore, used, or ate was handed down from others. Especially that backpack, it wasn't pretty at all and had a design I'd only ever seen on TV. My father said it was a second-hand from my cousin. That's when I learned a new word, such as 'second-hand'. Once, I offered to swap my own small backpack for that ugly one, but my father flew into a rage. He shouted, "How can you be so selfish? You already have one, you've had enough, but you still want to take your brother's." Now, I vaguely understand. My father wasn't angry because I wanted to swap backpacks. It was because my brother's backpack was more expensive. Later, my mother finished cooking and set the food on the table. The three of them immediately sat down to eat. My mother glanced out the window, looking a little hesitant. "How about we call her in to eat? She probably knows she was wrong by now." My father took a sip of wine, his eyes full of displeasure. "Call her in for what? If she doesn't come out herself, it means she's not hungry." Then he added, "She must have heard all the noise you made cooking. She's just sulking." Hearing that, my mother also grew angry. "She has the nerve to sulk?" Without another word, she placed my bowl of rice in front of the kitten. That bowl was a matching set for my brother and me. We each had one and I loved it the most. I panicked. "Mom, I'm not throwing a tantrum. I want to eat too. Don't give my bowl to the kitten. That's a matching set for my brother and me." I reached for it, but the kitten, possessive of its food, bared its teeth and meowed at me. My father grew irritable and furious. "Shut up! Stop meowing! Keep it up and I'll throw your food away!" The kitten ignored him completely, meowing even louder. Drunk and enraged, he grabbed the broom leaning by the door and started whipping the kitten. Hearing the kitten's pitiful cries, watching my father smash the porcelain bowl into shards with each blow, I dared not utter a sound. My father must still be angry with me. That's why he's taking it out on the cat. I didn't dare speak, quietly crouching beside the kitten. The family didn't mention my name again until they finished their meal. After dinner, they all went out for a walk. I thought if I cleaned up the bowls, my parents wouldn't be mad at me anymore. But when I reached for the bowls, my hand passed right through them. It was so strange. I stood there blankly at the table for a while, not understanding why. The kitten, barely alive from the beating, climbed onto the table and started eating the leftovers. Completely forgetting the earlier beating, the kitten smashed several bowls on the floor as it moved. "No, no, Mom and Dad will be angry!" I screamed. With shards of porcelain scattered everywhere, the kitten fled the scene. When my parents returned and saw the mess under the table, they were even angrier. "That brat Stella! We didn't call her for dinner and she dared to come out and smash bowls!" "She's been so rebellious all day!" I hurriedly explained that I didn't do it; the kitten did.

My father, still fuming, refused to believe me. Instead, he stormed into my room and snatched the plaster dolls I'd painstakingly sculpted. He raced straight to the balcony and smashed them to pieces right before my eyes. "Since you enjoy breaking things, why not smash these ugly things of yours, too?" I quickly retorted, "But you said my drawings were beautiful! These aren't ugly things." I tried to pick up the plaster dolls from the floor, only to meet the same fate as those plates. I couldn't touch them. I cried and screamed, begging them to stop, but they acted as if they couldn't see me at all. "Mom and Dad, I didn't break the bowl. Please believe me," I begged. Just as I was about to cry again, I witnessed an unbelievable sight. Inside the cardboard box where I had lain earlier, there was now a person who looked exactly like me, except her face was as pale as a sheet of paper. I backed away in panic, pleading for help, "Mom and Dad, look at me! Please look at me!" After smashing them and seeing that I didn't move, my father became even angrier. He yelled at me, "If you're going to be this stubborn, then you'd better stay right there and never move!" Back in the living room, he complained to my mother, "She's pretending not to hear us now. I think she needs to spend another night outside. Let's just leave her be. She'll come back in once she realizes her mistake." That night, the whole family went to sleep without a single thought for me. I sat in the cardboard box, staring at myself for a long while and finally understood. I had died, I was really gone. The next day, my uncle and aunt from my father's side came over with their daughter. When my cousin wanted to go into my room, my mother opened the door without saying a word. I directly stood in the doorway, trying to stop them. "Mom, you can't let her in! Last time, she broke all my things!" Sadly, my mother couldn't hear me. She was chatting in the living room with my uncle and aunt. "Brother, regarding my husband's job transfer, do you think there's any hope of moving him to a better-paying position? He's been with the company for so many years. If there's anything that needs to be arranged, just let me know. I'll make sure it's taken care of." Before my uncle could even respond, my cousin had already run out of my room holding a small gold locket she'd taken from my jewelry box. It was one of the matching swan lockets my parents had made for my brother and me. She had tried to take it once before, but I caught her and my parents managed to get it back for me. I never thought she would try again. I thought my mother would stop her like before. Unexpectedly, this time, my mother smiled broadly and praised my cousin, "Oh dear, does Anna like this lock? You have such good taste! It's pure gold. If you like it, take it." I was stunned. Last time, when my mother stopped her, she had told me, "Taking without asking is stealing. A girl must protect what is rightfully hers." So why had everything changed now? My aunt overheard and remarked with a hint of sarcasm, "Huh? Last time you accused Anna of stealing. Now you're just letting her have it?" My mother kept smiling apologetically. "That girl, Stella, never tells the truth. I asked her later and she said she'd lent it to her cousin to play with. She made a mistake and unfairly blamed Anna. So let Anna take it home this time, consider it making it up to her." That answer made my aunt smile smugly. "That's more like it. Since you've been so generous, then our Anna will accept it."

"Oh, and also, Anna really likes the doll Stella plays with during the holidays. I heard it's a BJD doll given by your brother, so how about you lend it to our Anna to play with for a couple of days?" That doll was a birthday present from my uncle and I treasure it dearly. I didn't let anyone touch it. My mother knew how much I cherished her, so she'd definitely protect it for me. But the next second, a fawning smile appeared on my mother's face. "It's just a doll. If Anna likes it, just take it. Why say 'lend'?" My uncle and his family of three left satisfied. They took bags and bags of stuff from my room. After taking the BJD doll, my mother even took all my other dolls with it. She called it an apology. Still, what did I do wrong? Why should I apologize? It was clearly my cousin who was in the wrong! The moment my father came home with my little brother from kindergarten, anger was written all over his face. My mother quickly asked what had happened. My father fumed, "Stella thinks she's all grown up now. She actually had the nerve to skip kindergarten! When I picked up our son, the teacher even asked me why I hadn't asked Stella for leave. That's when I found out Stella missed the morning school bus. I'm going to teach her a lesson today!" As he spoke, my father picked up a broom, preparing to head to the balcony to beat me. However, my mother stopped him. She was also annoyed. "Since she's so stubborn, let her stay there. Let's ask Stanley for leave and take him to the beach. I want to see if she can keep being stubborn then." I placed myself on their path to the balcony, desperately wanting them to notice me. I wanted to tell them that I didn't skip school because I was being stubborn. I skipped school because I was dead, that's why I couldn't go. "Mom and Dad, I wasn't being stubborn. I wanted to meet my teacher, too. I also wanted to see my classmates." But they walked right through me, took some clothes and left. Not once did they look in my direction. The kindergarten teacher had called my smartwatch, probably to ask why I hadn't come to school. Sadly, I couldn't touch the watch, so I just stayed quietly beside my own body. My cat could see me, but she didn't like the way I looked now. Every time I got close, she would hiss at me. I watched helplessly as my body turned from pale to developing strange blotches. Even some liquid started seeping out from under the cardboard box. The clothes that the neighbors downstairs were hanging quickly got stained by the dripping liquid. They grumbled angrily, "People upstairs! Have you no sense of public decency? How could you dump dirty water from your balcony?" Unfortunately, no one was home. The curses they hurled were destined to go unheard by my parents. I drifted downstairs, apologizing over and over again. Then I drifted back to the balcony, wanting to find something to wipe up the liquid from the box. Seeing that no one was taking care of it, the couple downstairs called the property management. They asked the management to contact the occupants, but they still couldn't reach anyone. In the end, the staff decided to climb up from the balcony below to investigate the source of the problem. Later, a few workers climbed up and reached the cardboard box. That was when they found me. My parents, who were playing in the sand with my brother at the beach, received a call from the police. "What happened to my daughter?" "An accident? You must be joking. You're definitely a scammer. That stubborn girl, Stella, is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She can manage just fine even when we're not around." "Don't even think about tricking me into transferring money." Just as he was about to hang up, my father heard my grandparents' voices. My grandparents' voices were trembling. "You two bastards, worthless things, where have you been? Get back here!" "Get back here right now!" "Something happened to the child."