My brother died while saving me from drowning. Since then, my mother has been even stricter with me.

On my birthday, I felt unwell and didn’t attend my tutoring class. When my mom found out, she slapped me hard and snapped, “Who do you think you’re letting down, you ungrateful child?! Why couldn’t it have been you? I wish it was you who died!”

I thought when I died, they would be happy, but contrary to my expectation, my mother held my diary and wept.

——

As I lingered at the doorstep, my smartwatch rang. The crumpled slip with my second-place rank from the monthly exam was clenched in my fist. Each ring echoed louder, matching the rhythm of my racing heart and filling me with a suffocating dread.

Just then, the door swung open, and my mother, Sabina glared at me.

“Standing outside like that—what do you think you’re doing? Get in, now.” Her voice was ice, cutting through the cold winter air and sending a familiar shiver through me.

Like a machine, I obeyed, my steps hollow as I walked inside. The floor was heated, yet I felt nothing but an unyielding chill. I didn’t dare look up, sensing her contempt from across the room.

“I spend all this money on your tutoring, and for what?” Her words fell like stones. “Look at Gavin; he doesn’t need tutoring, and he’s always at the top. Why can’t you beat him at anything?”

“You’re always in second place because you don’t work hard enough. With scores like this, how do you expect to get into Stanford University?”

Her harsh words struck me over and over, leaving me too shaken to even muster the courage to respond.

I’d once tried to defend myself, but each attempt only invited sharper, crueler insults. Eventually, I learned to say nothing at all.

“I’ve enrolled you in another tutoring class. Go there right after school,” she announced coldly.

My days became a never-ending blur of her demands, leaving no space to rest, to breathe.

I was exhausted, completely drained.

The school was gearing us up for Stanford University’s entrance exams, pushing us late into the evenings. I felt my body had reached its limits, but I held out until our final exam.

As the bell rang, I sprang to my feet, but the room spun around me. With a thud, I sank back into my chair, the world blurring at the edges.

There was only half an hour until my tutoring class started.

On any other day, I would have rushed to the snack shop near the tutoring center to grab a quick dinner. But as I steadied myself, a rare, defiant impulse stirred within me.

What if I didn’t go today? It’s my 17th birthday. I would skip just this once. Maybe Mom would understand.

I stayed behind in the empty classroom until the school janitors began locking up, then slipped outside, my backpack heavy on my shoulders. I wandered to a nearby park and sat on a bench, watching a young boy tug at his parents’ sleeves, begging for cotton candy. They teased him playfully, and he burst into tears.

As I watched them, a smile tugged at the corner of my lips, momentarily forgetting my mother’s obsessive control over me. But as I bent down to tie my shoelaces, familiar shoes appeared in my vision.

Before I could even look up, a fierce slap struck me, sending me sideways. My head hit the ground with a sharp, jarring pain.

The dizziness from earlier swelled back, clouding my mind. When my senses returned, I caught sight of my watch, shattered on the pavement beside me, the glass glinting in the fading light.

People nearby began to gather, murmuring in disapproval.

“Ma’am, you can’t hit your daughter like that, no matter what she’s done.”

“She’s almost an adult; this is unacceptable...”

My mother’s smile flickered, her face twitching as she forced a sweet façade. “Oh, don’t worry; I didn’t hit her hard. We were just playing around. Move along, please.”

She seized me by the collar and hauled me to the car, her grip bruising.

I knew this was the calm before the storm.

Sure enough, as soon as we entered the apartment, my mother seized me by the hair and threw me to the floor. I lay there, paralyzed like a beaten dog, too scared to even move. She jabbed her finger at my head, her words sharp and relentless.

“Get up! Who do you think you are, giving me that look? I feed you, clothe you, and provide for you. Even a dog would at least wag its tail in gratitude!”

“I work myself to the bone to make money, and you go off to enjoy yourself?! You think that’s fair to me?”

Choking back tears, I tried to explain, hoping she’d understand if she knew I was feeling unwell. “I wasn’t feeling well today, and it’s my birthday... I just wanted to rest just this once. I promise I’ll go to class tomorrow.”

But reality was never as kind as I wanted it to be. My words seemed to touch a nerve, and her anger flared even hotter.

“You think I want to pay for all this? You think these classes are free?” Her voice rose with each word, bitter and accusing. “I spend all my money on you, and this is what I get? If it had been your brother who’d survived, would I still be worrying like this?”

At that moment, her words transported me back five years ago.

We were once a happy family, living together in peace. Both of my parents worked hard to give us a comfortable life, never once complaining about their struggles. My brother was seventeen and in his senior year. He had been accepted into Stanford University with remarkable grades. On the other hand, I was more playful and a little more carefree, and my grades were only average. But back then, my parents always said that as long as I was happy, that was all that mattered.

To celebrate my brother’s accomplishment, we took a family trip to the beach. It was the first time I’d ever seen the ocean, and I charged toward it like an unleashed puppy, grabbing my float and running straight into the waves.

Then I felt the tug of an offshore current—something I’d only read about in geography class. Within moments, it pulled me away from the shore. I screamed for help, but each shout filled my mouth with salt water, burning my throat and nose. No one dared to jump in after me; everyone knew the strength of those invisible currents.

Just when I was about to give up, a hand gripped mine.

“Hang on, Deanna, just a little longer. I’ve got you,” Gavin said, his voice steady and determined.

He fought the current, using every bit of his strength to push me up toward safety. When my dad finally grasped my hand from the shore, my brother's hand slipped away.

I was saved, but my brother was swept out to sea.

Everything fell apart after that. My mother’s love, her warmth—all of it turned into a cold, heavy resentment that she directed solely at me. And I couldn’t blame her. It was my fault.

If I hadn’t been so reckless, my brother would still be here. If I hadn’t cried out, he wouldn’t have died trying to save me. I had destroyed our family’s happiness.

“Who do you think you’re letting down, you ungrateful child? Why couldn’t it have been you?” she shrieked.

Each time she spoke of my brother, it was the same words on repeat. I’d grown numb to hearing them, yet somehow, they still stung. Overcome with frustration, she kicked me out of the house.

For the first time, I left home. I wandered the streets until nightfall, aimless and alone.

Afraid to go home while my mom was still upset, I found myself with nowhere else to go. Thankfully, my deskmate's mother, Auntie Molly took me in. Sharlene, my lively and cheerful classmate, had a way of brightening even my heaviest days, and tonight was no different. Sitting in their cozy home, enjoying the steaming chicken casserole her mom had made, and laughing at Sharlene's endless jokes, I felt my worries begin to fade.

Before bed, Auntie Molly came over, gently brushing her hand over our heads with a soft, reassuring smile. "You must be tired," she murmured. "Get some rest, and tomorrow, go home and apologize to your mom. She’ll forgive you; don’t worry."

After that, she turned off the light and went out.

I wished with all my heart that she could be my mother. Just maybe, I could have been happy, too.

But my own mother had once been just as warm and gentle.

Why do people change?

Sensing the heaviness in my silence, Sharlene hugged me close, her arm wrapped around me like a soft shield. A surge of sadness welled within me, and I couldn’t keep the words from spilling out.

“Will my mom really forgive me?”

Sharlene brushed it off with a reassuring smile. “Of course! They say mothers and daughters don’t hold grudges overnight. Running away isn’t a big deal. Just be strong.”

But only I knew the truth—what I desperately wished my mother would forgive me.

That night, I slept better than I had in years.

No insomnia, no jarring awakenings in the dead of night, and no heart pounding out of nowhere. For once, it felt like peace.

Early in the morning, Auntie Molly took my hand and walked me home, one slow, steady step at a time. When we finally reached the house, I forced a nervous smile as I pressed my fingerprint against the scanner. But the screen flashed back, “Stranger.”

I tried again, then punched in the passcode, my hands shaking. It failed, too.

Auntie Molly looked at me, stunned. She was probably shocked that my mother would change both the passcode and fingerprint access.

The house was empty, and neither of my parents was home. Auntie Molly kindly dialed my Mom’s number.

“Let her wait,” my mother said curtly before hanging up.

She tried reaching my dad, but he didn’t even pick up.

Auntie Molly was, torn. She had to get to work, but she was hesitant to leave me alone here, locked out. So I put on my bravest face, assured her my parents would be back soon, and gently nudged her toward the elevator.

As she left, the wind whipped around me, cold and unrelenting. I sat there waiting, numb to the chill that settled deep into my bones. It was noon by the time my parents finally arrived.

I scrambled up too quickly, my numb feet stumbling over as I fell sideways.

My head collided with the wall, leaving me dizzy and seeing stars. My parents merely glanced my way before unlocking the door and walking in, ignoring me as if I were invisible.

Inside, my father settled onto the sofa, lighting one cigarette after another, enveloped in smoke, silent. I could feel my mother’s hateful glare boring into me, her eyes filled with disgust.

“So, you think you’re clever now?” Her voice cut through the air. “Just because I scolded you a little, you think you can run away? If you have the guts, don’t ever come back! Since you’re so fond of Sharlene's house, why don’t you just go live there instead? Why did you even come back here?”

She took a step toward me, her intent clear. My heart clenched, and tears spilled over my cheeks as I choked out, “Mom, I’m sorry! I won’t ever do it again.”

Suddenly, my father slammed the ashtray down onto the floor.

Glass shards flew, one grazing my ankle and leaving thin streaks of blood. Terrified, I covered my head as his voice thundered above me, harsh and bitter.

“Look at this daughter you’ve raised—a worthless, selfish brat. Five years ago, she killed Gavin, and now she’s here just to make our lives hell.”

My mother’s fury ignited further. “As if she’s only my daughter! Do you think I wanted this? You’re never home; always out drinking and smoking. You’ve got no right to lecture me.”

“I pay the bills, don’t I? What more do you want? Gavin was perfect—he never made me worry. Why can’t she be like him?”

I pressed my hands over my ears, but their accusations pierced through, stabbing deeper and deeper until my heart felt like it couldn’t bear it. The bile rose in my throat, nausea washing over me.

In the end, it all boiled down to the same thing. I would never measure up to my brother. They hated me for his death, but instead of letting go, they tortured themselves—and me—this way.

Their shouting escalated, and soon anything within reach was flung across the room, shattering against the walls. Finally, my dad stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Left alone, my mother turned her furious gaze at me. She grabbed my ear, pulling hard as she spat, “If it weren’t for you, I’d have left him long ago. If your brother hadn’t saved you, I wouldn’t be living this miserable life.”

She released me with a shove, her face contorted with pure disdain. “Why did you even come back? Get out! This is my home, not yours.”

Without warning, she yanked open the door and shoved me outside. I stumbled, falling hard against the ground, the impact scraping my cheek and arm, thin cuts stinging as they bled.

Lying there, I looked up at her, hoping for something—an ounce of regret, even a flicker of compassion. But her gaze was cold, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was as though she was staring down at her worst enemy.

It started pouring outside.

A terrifying flash of lightning ripped across the dark sky, casting my face in a ghastly, pale light, like a sheet of paper.

With nowhere else to go, I curled up in the corner of an abandoned balcony near my house, shivering from the cold.

"Meow—"

In my daze, I thought I heard the faint mewl of a kitten.

I looked around, seeing nothing at first. But the sound tugged at me, so I rose, letting the rain drench my face as I searched, vision blurring with every step.

The kitten was nowhere to be seen.

Just as I began to question if it was my imagination, I spotted a small shape perched on the edge of the balcony, huddled silently against the rain. It didn’t move, as if it were already lifeless.

The sight of its frail little body stirred something inside me. I approached carefully, trying not to frighten it, silently praying it wouldn’t run.

But fate had other plans.

Just as I reached out, the kitten leaped from the balcony’s edge.

And without thinking, I jumped after it.