Misread Mind: Dad Gave My Life Away

I had been locked up in the dog cage in the basement for seven days now.

I curled up in the cage, reeking of urine. I was in so much pain that my whole body was convulsing.

I felt something well up in my throat. Some retching later, a mouthful of dark red blood appeared on the dirty rug.

This was already the third time I had vomited blood that day.

The door to the basement opened.

Dad was wearing an expensive tailor-made suit, and his leather shoes clacked on the concrete floor.

He looked down at me, his gaze filled with nothing but disdain.

I painstakingly raised my head and reached an emaciated hand out to him.

I screamed in my mind, "Dad, please help me. I'm in so much pain. I'm seriously ill. Please take me to the hospital, even if it's just for some painkillers. I don't want to die, Dad. Please. I'm your biological daughter, your flesh and blood!"

Dad's expression instantly darkened.

He suddenly gave the cage a powerful kick. The impact was so loud that it left my ears ringing.

"Shut up! You vermin!" He jabbed a finger at me and started hurling insults at me. "I locked you in there so that you can reflect on your actions, but you're cursing me instead? And even now, you want money to buy a new bag, and you want to spend all the family fortune? And what's with that evil attitude? You wish I could just die already, and you even want to take me off life support?"

I froze.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't make a single sound. I could only explain again and again in my mind, "Dad, I didn't say that, I swear. I'm just in so much pain. I have stomach cancer. I'm going to die soon."

When Dad heard that, his expression twisted even more.

Grabbing a broom nearby, he stuck it through one of the gaps in the bars and viciously poked me with it. "Lying and cursing again! I can't believe you'd make up a terminal illness just to get money! I can read your mind as clear as day. You're thinking, 'Where's the money? This old geezer just refuses to drop dead!' Nadine, what did I do to end up with an ingrate like you?"

The solid handle of the broom slammed into my stomach.

The intense pain caused my vision to go black, and I almost passed out.

I gave up on explaining.

I knew that no matter what I was thinking, it would turn into the most vicious curses in his mind.

This was the cruel joke fate had played on me.

Just then, my stepmother, Pauline Barton, entered the room.

She wore a silk nightgown and held a mug of herbal tea, a gentle, polite smile on her face.

She looked at me in my pitiful state in the cage. An extremely subtle hint of glee flashed across her eyes.

She thought viciously, "What a hardy little wench. I can't believe she's still alive. Come on, just die already. Stop hogging the spot you don't even care about. The family fortune will go to Howard."

Dad turned around, his expression instantly softening with emotion.

Holding Pauline's hands, he said with reddened eyes, "Honey, I'm glad that you're still so nice to me. That brat is infuriating, but you're still silently praying for me. You said you'd trade ten years of your life for my health, right? I will never forget that."

Pauline was stunned for a moment. Then, she went along with it and leaned into Dad's embrace. "Oh, honey, what are you saying? It's the least I could do."

Dad held her in his arms, then took one last disgusted glance at me. "Don't give her any food or water for the next few days. She should starve for a bit. Let's see if she's still thinking about bags then."

The iron door slammed shut, and the whole world seemed to fall into dead silence.

I leaned against the ice-cold bars, closing my eyes in despair.

I never knew that I was such a despicable person in his eyes.

…

On my third day without any food or water, my consciousness began to blur.