My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care."

She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way.

"Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

Dead and Unloved

I died. My dress was switched out for tattered fabric, and it hung loosely on my body. My face was a mess; knives slashed it all up. My soul was hovering in the air, not dissipating on just yet.

I followed that strong feeling that had been tugging at me. Strangely, it led me home. My mother was in the living room, grunting as she pushed a gigantic gift box over to Yvonne Hendrickson.

The box contained the gifts she had carefully picked for Yvonne. Every single one of them was worth a fortune. Me? My mother didn't even give me her best wishes when I came of age.

All these years, the one thing she often told me was, "I wished it was you who died."

When I was born, I was born a healthy baby. My twin brother, however, died before twenty-four hours were up. The doctor said my brother died of multiple organ failures, presumably because he didn't receive enough nourishment during gestation.

The dame on the next bed was munching on her fruit and spoke of her experience. "Well, we have a strong girl here. She probably took the boy's nourishment for herself. I've seen a lot of cases back when I was a midwife in my village."

She came over and looked at me. "She's going to be a survivor." The dame smiled. "Look at her, such a beautiful girl."

My mother leaned on the headboard, looking at me with hatred and confusion. My father was furious after hearing what the dame said. He claimed this was too much for him to bear and wanted a divorce immediately.

He believed that I was a dark omen. If I were to be kept around, his business would be hurt. Since then, everyone has called me a jinx or an ill omen.

Yvonne asked carefully, "It's late, Mom. Jessica's still not back. She might be abducted for real."

The mention of my name made my mother impatient. There was nothing but disgust in her eyes. hat the dame said

"She's a compulsive liar. Not a word out of her mouth can be trusted. There's no way a kidnapper would just take someone and ask for me in return instead of money. She's just trying to ruin your coming-of-age celebration. That girl is twisted and evil."

My mind went blank. I couldn't think of anything in the face of such vitriol. If I still had a heart, my mother's words would've shredded it into pieces. Back when I was abducted, I thought the kidnapper wanted money, but he didn't.

He shakily held a dagger against my neck and told me to call my mother for help. When he realized she wouldn't come, he flew into a rage. The man grabbed the metal pipe beside him and slammed it against my head. Again. And again. And again.

While I was still conscious, he stabbed his dagger into the crack between my nail and finger, and then he pried my nails off, one by one, until every single nail was taken away.

Then, he slashed up my face and left mark after mark on my body. Finally, he grabbed a beggar's clothes and draped them over me. I would never forget what he said when he plunged that dagger into my heart.

"You have a home, yet no one loves you. You're worth less than a beggar."

Unloved

Yvonne noticed the disgust my mother had for me, and a small smile curled her lips. She raised her head and asked in feigned innocence, "What would you do if I was kidnapped, Mom?"

My mother put down what she was holding and quickly approached Yvonne. Then, she enunciated solemnly, "I will not let that happen to you. If it does, I will make a portrait of the kidnapper the first chance I get and save you, trust me."

Yvonne hugged Mom's arm and giggled cutely. "You're the best, Mom. Still, Jessica is also your daughter. We can forgive her for lying this time, can't we?"

She looked so genuine. That look on her face took me back to three years ago. I had an important piano competition coming up, and I desperately wished for my mother to come.

I wanted to show that I was good at something. I wanted to show that I could make her proud, too.

I just wanted her to know I was no omen. I organized and reorganized my words before I made the call, and as carefully as a scared kitten afraid of abandonment, I made my request.

My mother said she would come. I held my phone as tightly as I could and leaped with excitement. However, my mother called and said she couldn't make it on the day of the performance.

"Eve's sick, and I can't leave her alone. You can handle the competition yourself."

It was a video call, and Yvonne looked pale. She looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, Jessica. I'm not feeling too good. You've always been the independent one, but I can't do anything without Mom. Good luck with the competition."

I looked at the other kids and their parents. Then I cried. All of them were holding bouquets and looked like they were the proudest parents ever. They had encouragement in their eyes and expected great things from their children.

My mother, on the other hand, couldn't even bother to remember the competitions I joined. I was never important to her.

When the competition came to an end, I scrolled my phone and saw a new status from Yvonne. 'It's just a little cold, but Mom's so worried about it. She wouldn't let me leave her sight. I'm the happiest girl ever.'

The picture in the post was of our mother making soup for her. Pain washed over me, creeping all over my heart. For some reason, Yvonne could easily get our mother's love, the one thing I yearned for.

I did everything I could and pulled every single trick in the book, but I couldn't even get a shred of my mother's love. I was unloved.

Frustration

After Yvonne moved her present into her room, she chirped happily, "Can you come with me on the graduation trip, Mom?" She took out her phone and presented her proposal. There, she had a list of all the cities she wanted to see.

Yvonne chirped and happily introduced all the spots on the list. My mother seemed a little out of it. She stared at the phone, her brows furrowed. Yvonne called out to her, but she said nothing.

A few times later, she started tearing up, and her voice cracked, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't do this. Jessica's still brooding. I can't think about the trip."

My mother snapped out of it and felt her heart ache seeing her beloved daughter cry. So, she hastily hugged Yvonne and cooed, "This isn't your fault. Jessica is just being a child."

"However, I just got a call." Mom said hesitantly, "My colleagues said they found a female corpse in a dumpster about six miles away. They've determined that it's an abduction and murder case. Do you think it could be your sister?"

Yvonne held my mother's hand. Then, she said with a furrow between her brow, "Why don't we call her?"

My mother called me. A few moments later, the call was cut off. She looked like someone was choking her, and her eyes went wide with fury. "I knew she was lying about the abduction!"

A smile flickered in Yvonne's eyes, but she tried to placate my mother, "Calm down, Mom. She's probably just mad."

"Ignore her. It's none of our business even if she dies!"

I turned around and looked at my mother's face closely, trying to find a shred of concern for me, but there was none. The sudden disconnected call from "me" only fueled her frustration and dislike for me.

She thought I was a liar who would do anything to ruin my sister's big day. Although I was only a spirit, I was apparently capable of tears still. After a while, I laughed and demanded, "Have you never loved me, Mom? If you hate me so much, why'd you give birth to me?"