I was the most notorious terror child in the entire neighborhood.

Every day, I threw a tantrum and claimed a parking spot as my own. I refused to let anyone else park there. The other residents had no choice but to leave their cars on the street, where they received expensive parking tickets.

I held a neighbor’s seven-year-old pet duck under water until it drowned. The duck had been worth a thousand dollars. I did it simply because I wanted to taste duck meat.

In the elevator, I would cancel everyone else’s floors for fun. One day, the elevator broke down. A neighbor was trapped inside so long that they nearly suffocated.

My parents were at their wits’ end. More than once, they beat me in public over my actions.

They even broke down in front of everyone and cursed me.

“How did I end up with such a rotten child?”

“Why don’t you just die?”

I thought. “But Mom, Dad, weren’t these the very things you taught me?”

I lowered my head, heartbroken.

“Kid, are your parents bad to you? Why don’t I find you a new mom and dad?” a tempting voice asked.

I looked up at the scarred man standing in front of me. Hope flickered across my face. I nodded.

“When you go in, throw yourself on the floor and scream as loud as you can, got it?

“If no one leaves, spit in their food. Shove their heads down into their soup. That’ll make them so uncomfortable they will have no choice but to leave.

“If that still doesn’t work, flip the table. Send the food flying everywhere. With everything on the floor, they’ll have no choice but to go.”

My father and mother, Jack Bennet and Susan Bennet, were calmly teaching me how to be the worst kid in the restaurant so I could drive the other customers out.

That way, we would not have to wait for a table. We could just walk right in and eat.

However, each time I did as I had been told, I was the one who got beaten and yelled at. I was the one who received the looks of disgust from everyone around me.

I did not want to be treated like that again.

I gathered my courage to speak up.

“But the teacher said that shouting in public is bad behavior. It’s wrong to do that.”

For a brief moment, Mom and Dad’s expressions stiffened. Then, their faces hardened again and started scolding me.

“How could you be so selfish? You only think about yourself!

“We came here because this is the one thing your sister wanted after winning her figure skating championship. Can’t you even do something this small for your twin sister?”

Their accusations stung. Still, something about it felt wrong. I mumbled, “Couldn’t we just wait until the other customers finish eating? Why do we have to chase them out?”

Before I could finish, my sister, Maggie Bennet, cut in with a sneer.

“Oh, please. Stop pretending this is about morals. You’re just scared of getting hit again, aren’t you? What a coward. No wonder everyone in the neighborhood hates you.”

“That’s not true,” I blurted out, trying to defend myself.

People hated me because Dad told me to take over parking spaces and Mom made me mess with the elevator buttons. They always blamed everything on me afterward. That was why everyone hated me.

Before I could explain, Dad shoved me toward the restaurant entrance with obvious irritation.

“Enough already. You’re just a kid. No matter how angry people get, they can’t really do a thing to you. Now, get in there and do your job.”

Instinctively, I tried to escape. I turned my feet toward the street.

I saw Dad raise his fist. There was a dangerous look written all over his face.

Memories of what happened the last time I fought back crashed into my mind. I shivered.

I had no choice but to accept my fate. I walked into the restaurant and let out a loud, piercing scream.

“AAAAAHHHH!”

Hearing the noise, a waitress hurried toward me. Instinctively, my voice dropped.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad standing outside the glass doors. His face was dark. He was pulling the belt from his trousers.

Terror jolted through me. I dodged past the waiter and went through the motions Dad had drilled into me. I leaned over the nearest table and spat into a bowl of corn and pork rib soup.

“Ahh!”

A female customer’s shriek rattled my skull.

“Whose boy is this? Somebody control him!”

A male customer’s roar echoed through the restaurant.

I looked toward the entrance with the hope that my parents would come get me out of there.

However, they had their backs to me. They were gathered around Maggie, laughing and chatting like nothing was happening inside the restaurant.

The man shouted three times. He was loud enough for employees from neighboring stores to poke their heads out and look, but my parents still did not turn around.

I lowered my head in disappointment.

“Listen here, you little brat, since your parents aren’t around, I’ll teach you some manners myself!”

He stormed toward me with anger on his face.

Once, I had followed Mom’s commands and taken a neighbor’s seven-year-old duck home to make soup. The neighbor had slapped me ten times. I could still feel the sting.

I instinctively wanted to run.

Unfortunately, I did not notice a waiter carrying a scalding hot clay pot behind me.

The moment I spun around, my head slammed into its edge.

“Hey!”

The waiter cried out in shock as the pot slipped from his hands and crashed down onto my head.

“Aahhh! It hurts!”

The scalding clay pot split the skin on my forehead in an instant. Boiling soup splashed into my left eye. The searing pain forced my eyelid shut.

My right eye turned toward my parents outside the entrance. I was hoping they would come inside and carry me to the hospital.

At the sound of my screams, Mom finally started to turn around, but Dad quickly stopped her.

My hope vanished.

I no longer wanted them.

After the chaos, the customers lost all appetite. One by one, they left with dark expressions on their faces.

“You’re such a brat! Get out!” the restaurant owner roared. He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out the door.

At the same time, my mother and father led Maggie into the restaurant.

I tried to follow them inside, but Maggie shot me a vicious glare.

She leaned close to my ear and warned me.

“If you don’t want us getting yelled at, stay the hell away from us.”

I remained outside the restaurant and endured the terrible burning pain on my face and in my eye. I watched them feast through the window. I felt hungry and indignant.

“Little one, are your parents bad to you? How about I find you a new mom and dad who will actually love you?”

A scar-faced man had crouched down in front of me with a stiff smile. He spoke in a high, sweet voice, as if he were talking to a baby.

Really? New parents who would not make me do those terrible things? Parents who would treat me the way my parents treated my sister?

Looking at the scar-faced man, I nodded with a hopeful look on my face. Then, I took his hand and walked away with him.

He led me away from the restaurant, weaving through several streets before turning into a dark, isolated alley.

Suddenly, he pulled out a sack and tried shoving it over my head.

“Help! Somebody help! A man is trying to kidnap me!” I sensed something wrong and started fighting with all my strength.

The man clamped a hand over my mouth and nose. His expression turned vicious and cruel.

“Stay still! This place is too far out for anyone to hear you. No one is coming to save you. You should just cooperate. It would hurt less that way.”

No! If he took me away, I would only end up living a worse life than before. I did not want to go with him.

I shook my head wildly beneath his grip. I clawed at the large hands that covered my mouth and nose.

However, he only pressed harder and harder.

Slowly, my strength faded.

A crushing pain spread through my chest. My throat filled with the metallic taste of blood.

My vision darkened around the edges. My arms and legs grew numb and heavy. Little by little, consciousness slipped away.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating above the alley. Below me, the man was still gripping my limp body tightly in his arms.

I was dead.

The moment I understood what had happened, a strange sense of relief washed over me.

Finally! I would never have to be the family scapegoat again. I would never have to be hated by everyone around me.

When the scar-faced man saw that I had stopped struggling, he loosened his grip. He finally realized I was no longer breathing.

His face twisted with annoyance, and he kicked my body.

“What rotten luck. I finally find an easy boy to trick, and he goes and dies on me. Darn it.”

He walked away without looking back.

My soul drifted and came back to my parents.

They had just finished eating at the restaurant. My mother and father walked out holding Maggie by the hand.

Watching the three of them together, a happy little family, it did not hurt anymore.

I did not feel sad or jealous.

“That little brat must’ve run off and played again. Where is he now? We even packed up some of his favorite dishes since he actually helped us out today. What a waste of our effort.”

Mom snorted angrily and tossed the takeout container straight into a nearby trash can.

“He doesn’t deserve such good food. Let’s go home.”

I had thought I no longer cared about anything. But seeing those dishes, food I had never once been allowed to eat before, thrown casually into the garbage still made something ache inside me.

There was a time when Mom and Dad really loved me. They used to buy me toys, snacks, and all kinds of little things that made me happy.

Everything changed after the day I accidentally broke a thousand-dollar vase at a porcelain shop. The owner had simply smiled and waved it off. He said, “Little boys will be little boys. Kids are mischievous. It’s fine. There’s no need to pay for anything.” After that, my parents changed.

“You’re a kid. People forgive children no matter what kids do. Your mother and I have been working very hard. Would you be willing to help us out and make life easier for us?”

I was too little and naive back then. When I heard I could be of some help to them, I nodded without hesitation.

From that day on, I became the family scapegoat.

That night, Mom received a call.

“Hello, this is the organizing committee for the figure skating competition. After reviewing surveillance footage, we found evidence suggesting a participant may have deliberately placed razor blades inside another competitor’s skates. A formal investigation has been opened. Please report to the local police station tomorrow for questioning.”

“What?” Mom was a little shocked. She tried to say something else, but the caller had hung up.

“Charlie!” Mom’s face turned crimson with rage. She screamed through the house. “Get out here right now!”

“What happened?” Dad asked with confusion. “He’s still playing outside. He isn’t around.”

“That boy put razor blades in Maggie’s competitor’s skates! The organizers just called. They want us to cooperate with the investigation!”

“That stupid boy! Does he have any idea how important this competition was for Maggie? He could have ruined everything!”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Dad said in puzzlement. “We told him to stay home this morning and do Maggie’s homework for her. He never left the house.”

Then, as realization dawned on them, Mom and Dad exchanged a look before turning toward Maggie, who was shivering.

“Maggie, it was you…”

Before Mom could finish speaking, Maggie burst into tears, but it was not because of guilt.

“What am I supposed to do now? This is the first championship I’ve ever won! What if they take my medal away? I don’t want to give it back!”

Seeing Maggie’s reaction, Mom understood everything. She looked shocked, but more frustrated than horrified.

“How could you do something like this? If you were going to do it, you should’ve let your brother handle it for you. Why would you do it yourself?”

Dad, however, barely seemed concerned. He pulled Maggie into his arms and comforted her gently. “It’s fine. We’ll just tell them Charlie did it. Come on now, is something this small really worth our princess crying over?”

“But Charlie is a boy,” Maggie sniffled and voiced out with concern.

Dad waved the concern away without hesitation. He said with confidence, “That’s easy. We’ll put him in a wig and a dress. Nobody will notice. He dressed like a girl and solved problems for you plenty of times before.”

Dad was talking about the times Maggie had bullied other kids at school.

Ever since kindergarten, she had always picked on weaker classmates. Teachers disliked her, parents filed complaints, and eventually Mom and Dad had no choice but to move us to a different neighborhood.

When Maggie started elementary school, Mom wanted to make sure she could keep tormenting her classmates without facing any consequences. She put me in a wig and a dress and made me take the blame for everything Maggie did.

“Charlie, you’re a boy. It’s your job to protect your sister. If anyone says Maggie hurt them, you’ll step forward and tell them you did it. Let them come after you instead.”

With my mother’s permission, Maggie’s behavior at school grew worse and worse.

What started as merely tripping kids in the hallway and kicking chairs turned into cruel insults, social exclusion, and even dumping paint over classmates.

Every single time, I was shoved forward to take the fall for her.

At school, people started calling me “the little devil.” My friends gradually stopped talking to me. Even older students began cornering me in alleys after school just to beat me up.

I told Mom everything that was happening to me. I thought maybe she would protect me.

Instead, she just waved me off impatiently.

“You’re a boy. You’re tougher than you think. A few punches aren’t going to kill you.”

One day, during another beating after school, somebody ripped my wig off. That was how they found out that I was a boy dressed like a girl.

After that, the entire school knew.

Everywhere I went, people called me names. Freak. Drag. Pervert.

Even though the teachers eventually stepped in and punished the students involved, the damage had already been done. The nightmares started after that.

Every night, I dreamed of my classmates laughing at me. In the dreams, they all carried scissors. They would surround me and stab me over and over and over again until I died.

As those memories washed over me, I could not stop myself from shivering.

“Where could that brat have run off to? Look at the time. We need to drag him to the organizers tomorrow to explain everything.”

“Unbelievable. To think that we have to go out at this hour to look for him.”

With that, my mother and father pulled on their coats and shoes. They reluctantly walked toward the front door.

Just as they reached the front door, someone rang the doorbell.

Thinking it was me, Mom yanked the door open and started yelling, “You darn brat! So you finally decided to come…”

Before she could finish her sentence, the sight before her struck her silent.

Two police officers were standing outside the door with grim expressions.

The lead officer held up his badge and said in a stern voice, “Good evening. We’re investigating a homicide. Preliminary evidence suggests the case involves a member of your household. Please come with us.”

My parents looked stunned. Then they forced out a smile and said, “Officer, there must be some mistake. Everyone in our family is perfectly fine.”

The lead officer’s expression remained stern as he added, “A boy’s body was discovered about an hour ago in a dark alley behind the shopping district. The victim had severe burns on his forehead.”

At those words, both of my parents stiffened. Only then did they realize that I had been missing for ten hours.