Finally Receiving a Mother's Love, After Becoming Ashes

If it was my sister being bullied, Mom and Dad would have believed her right away and fought for her without a second thought.

However, it did not matter anymore. In my next life, I would pick parents who really cared about me.

It hurt.

I was floating in the air, looking down at myself lying on the hospital bed.

Tubes were inserted all over my body.

My heartbeat was faint, and my face was pale.

My parents were standing by the bed, looking exhausted.

My mom started to complain, "Just a few words could make her jump out of the window. I didn't even say anything wrong. How could she ever measure up to Jenny?"

Yes, I had never been able to compare to my elder sister.

I could not even manage to die properly. I was only wasting medical resources.

My dad lowered his voice and stopped her.

"Enough. Stop talking like that. The child is in this state, and you're still complaining?! We've already lost Jenny. Do you want to lose Nessa, too? We're getting old. Having another child would be difficult now. You wouldn't want to grow old with no one to care for you, would you?"

So, was I only a replacement and a tool for their old age?

They refused to believe me when I told them.

Perhaps it would be better if I died already.

I watched them as they were called into the doctor's office, and I floated along, following them.

The doctor was wearing a serious expression.

"Dr. Stone, the patient's condition is not looking good. She's sustained injuries all over, and her will to live is weak. Is there anything that could stimulate her? Try talking to her more. If this continues, I'm afraid she won't make it."

They nodded repeatedly and went home.

When they returned, they brought with them several of my diaries.

…

Mom impatiently flipped open my elementary school diary and began to read aloud softly.

June 1, 2010

My name was Nessa Stone.

A relative once told me that I was born because of a final wish from my sister, Jenny Stone before she died.

"I want to be Mom's child again in my next life."

That was how I came into this world.

Aside from the mole near one of my eyes, I had always been different from Jenny.

Her favorite color was pink, and mine was blue.

For the sister I had lost, and in hopes that my parents might love me just a little more, I quietly wore pink, even though it was not what I truly wanted.

Even though the love they gave me was meant for my sister, I would still be happy.

All I had were my mom and dad.

Until today, on Children's Day.

My deskmate Megan had a beautiful blue dress that I could not take my eyes off. Megan noticed how much I liked it, and after the performance, she offered to swap it with me so I could wear it for a while.

I was too shy to go outside, so I hid in the bathroom to secretly put it on. Megan complimented me. She said I looked beautiful and that blue was perfect on me. She even wanted to take a few pictures.

Just as I was striking a pose, Mom found me and exploded in anger.

She ripped the dress off me.

I cried loudly.

After the other kids found out about this, they kept their distance whenever they saw me.

Dad let out a sigh when he heard what happened.

Mom stubbornly argued, "Whenever I see blue, it takes me back to the day Jenny had her accident. It was the same exact color. She was only seventeen, and she hadn't even gotten to live her life, and she was gone just like that. Blue always freaks me out because of it."

It was not because of fear.

It was only because my sister did not like blue.

However, even if I wore the same color as my sister…

I still could not be as bright as her.

…

The next day, Dad read it to me.

April 25, 2010

The math test papers were handed out.

I only scored in the low 80s.

With a look of disappointment, the teacher said, "If it had been Jenny, she would've definitely gotten a perfect score."

I had really tried my best.

After school, I didn't dare go home. Not getting a perfect score meant I would not be allowed to eat.

I wandered aimlessly outside, hoping it would get late enough so I could return when no one would notice.

Suddenly, a strange man approached me. I ignored him, remembering what the teacher had told us—never talk to strangers.

When he realized I was not responding, he seemed frustrated and suddenly grabbed me, lifting me toward a nearby corner. I was terrified, screaming and struggling with all my might.

Just then, a boy shouted at him, "Where are you taking my sister? If you don't let her go, I'll go get my dad!"