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?"

Deign

I asked her the same question a long time ago. I was in Grade Nine, and studies were hard. My mother fell ill, and she needed thousands for her treatment. To lessen her burden, I traveled to a lot of cities and joined many competitions to win any cash prizes possible.

Then, I did nothing but go to school and the hospital to care for her. I lost so much weight back then. I nearly ran myself to the bone out of sheer exhaustion. My mother seemed to be moved, and she smiled at me for the first time in my life.

When we ran into our neighbors, she would praise me and call me a good girl. I would follow her around, carefully tugging on her sleeve. Still, I always had a smile on. It was a timid but blissful smile.

I thought I could touch my mother for the first time in my life. I thought my efforts could get her to love me, to be gentle to me. Everything seemed to be getting better, but then the afternoon came. Yvonne was holding her opened piggy bank.

She came up to me, crying like a hurt puppy. "I can understand that you're worried about Mom, Jessica. I don't mind giving you all my money, but you shouldn't have told Mom that you won them in your competitions!"

I jerked my head up and looked at my mother. Sunlight shone through the window and crept through the wrinkles on the edges of her eyes. A moment ago, there was warmth in her gaze, but it had changed. I was familiar with that gaze. It was the cold, cold look I'd gotten used to.

"No, Mom, I didn't take her money—"

I panicked and tried to defend myself, but the only answer I received was a loud, clear slap. My mother looked tense, and there it was again—the familiar distaste in her eyes.

"I knew you were a bad egg. I can't believe I have a daughter like you!" She stormed off, and I looked at Yvonne, tears in my eyes.

"Why'd you frame me?"

When Yvonne was certain that Mom had gotten into her room, she immediately dropped the act. Although the ten-year-old was smiling innocently, the words that came out of her mouth dripped with venom.

"You're nothing but a pitiful, unloved maggot. You think you can make Mom love you? In your dreams! Our brother died because of you. Our parents got a divorce because of you!" She looked at me, her teeth clenched.

"Jessica, you're nothing but an omen. You should never have existed!"

That night, I was swallowed whole by agony and helplessness. I grabbed my compass and stabbed my arm until it had holes in it. Not even the pain could relieve me of the despair and panic I felt.

Eventually, I went into my mother's bedroom and asked, "Mom, if you never loved me, why'd you give birth to me?"

Her eyes were closed, and she said nothing, but I knew she wasn't asleep. If she wouldn't deign to answer my question when she was alive, she had even less of a reason to do so now that I was dead. No one could hear the dead, not even my mother.