Mom, I'm not a murderer

From the day I was born, my parents loathed me.

I wanted a princess dress, Mom bought me a funeral shroud.

My teacher said I had a gift for piano, Dad slammed my finger in the piano lid, crippling it.

They relished my pain, encouraging my younger sister, Lily, to take everything I had.

Lily even stole my fiancé, David.

And for that, Mom slapped me.

“Why are you crying? Trash like you deserves no love! You should be dead!”

But when news of my death arrived, Mom clutched my ID, refusing to let go.

She said she just wanted to love me, just once.

1

After the thug impaled me with a rusty rebar, I sobbed, calling my mom for help.

“Mom, save me, I… I’m dying…”

She munched on chips, a chilling laugh echoing in my ear. “That’s fantastic! I've been waiting for this day!”

The line went dead, and so did I.

As my soul ascended, I looked down at my mangled body and sighed.

I’d forgotten. My parents never loved me.

They hated me, despised me. Their hearts held room only for my perfect little sister.

Perhaps it was my unwillingness to accept this truth that kept my spirit tethered to my family home.

Mom and Lily sat on the sofa, giggling as they addressed wedding invitations.

Dad walked in to make tea, frowning.

“Isn’t Sarah back yet?”

Hearing my name, Mom sneered, not even bothering to look up.

“Still sulking. Honestly, how selfish can she be? Just because she had to give David to Lily. It’s not like it’s worth running away from home over.”

Lily sighed dramatically, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. “Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…”

Dad, clutching the tea caddy, jumped to her defense. “Your fault? Your sister is just spoiled rotten!”

Spoiled?

I thought I’d misheard.

I knew from the time I could understand anything that my parents didn't love me.

Mom was pregnant with twins, a boy and me.

But only I survived childbirth.

My parents blamed me, convinced I’d absorbed all the nutrients, leaving my brother to wither and die in the womb.

Back then, the one-child policy was in full swing, but Mom said she couldn't bear for me to monopolize their love.

So, they paid the fine and, a year later, Lily was born.

I remember my fifth birthday. Mom asked Lily what she wanted to eat.

Lily, with a challenging glance in my direction, said she wanted McDonald's.

I knew Mom had taken her countless times, describing the food in mouthwatering detail each time.

I, however, had never been.

That day, Mom brought home two huge Happy Meals.

The aroma of McDonald's filled the air, making my mouth water. I watched as Mom handed Lily a golden-brown chicken nugget.

The sound of the crispy coating crunching between her teeth was mesmerizing. I plucked up the courage to ask,

“Mom, can I have some too?”

Mom pushed a small box towards me.

Then, Lily, with feigned innocence, asked, “Mom, would my dead brother have wanted some too?”

Mom’s face hardened. She stared at me for a long moment, then picked up the box and went into the kitch...