Chapter 3 Wicked Mother

"If you can't forget them, then you should've died with them!" My mother ripped that toy out of my hand and smashed it against the ground. She stomped and trampled all over it until it was irrevocably broken.

All I wanted was an apology from Yves, but it was at that moment that I realized that my mother would hate me for as long as I lived.

Since then, I made it a point to limit any contact with them as much as I could. I only came out for meals and would hide in my room once that was over.

When high school came, I applied to live in a dorm.

"Your allowance is cut from 500 to 200 starting next month. You know how much your grandmother loves to gamble. She lost five million this time, and your stepfather despises gambling. I used my money to pay off her debt. You'll have to bear with it for a bit."

And here I thought she called because she missed me. I was wrong.

Still, that didn't change the fact that she was only going to give me 200 dollars a month when I was a growing boy. I knew that money was far from enough, but I didn't need her to keep disliking me.

In the end, I subsisted on only one bread a day. If I got hungry, I would chug my belly full of water.

When I was little, she would lock me up in my room and forbid meals just because I did something she didn't like. Well, it's that, or I didn't get full marks in my tests, or I didn't get top spot in my exams.

Eventually, my gastric condition worsened so much that my classmates had to take me to the hospital. The doctor gave me a diagnosis. I clenched that piece of paper tightly as I stared and stared. Late-stage stomach cancer. Wonderful.

So, I crawled back to that nightmare of a house after making myself scarce for a year.

My mother was scrolling on her phone. She saw me through the corner of her eye before turning her attention back to her phone.

She assumed I was here to beg for money, so she swiftly blurted, "Be grateful. I had only 60 dollars a month when I was young. 100 is more than enough for you. I even doubled it."

My lips thinned into a line as I mustered my courage to speak up. "It's not enough, Mom. I'm sick…"

I took my diagnosis out in an attempt to gain a modicum of concern from her. My hands were trembling as I handed that diagnosis over.

Alas, she swatted it out of my hands. Her eyes were filled with fury and clear distrust. "Coming up with sob stories now, are we? You were fine before the allowance cut, but now you're sick?"

Based on the way she was looking at me, I would've thought that she was looking at her sworn enemy instead of her son. I felt the last bit of my bravery turn to dust, but I took a few steps forward, trying to defend myself, "I wasn't lying—"

She shot up from her seat and grabbed something hard sitting beside the couch before hurling it at me. "Shut it! You're just leeching off us, you ungrateful boy!"

My stepfather was hanging the clothes to dry on the balcony. The commotion drew him back to the living room immediately. When he saw what was happening, he hastily escorted me to my room. Then, he turned and smiled at my mother. "Calm down. He's just a boy."

My mother still didn't let it go. "He's picked up a ton of bad habits! All I wanted was for him to learn to be frugal, and now he's making up stories about stomach cancer! I just saw a video, and the child made millions a month even though they were only college kids.

"They could give their parents a life of luxury, but him? He's still leeching off my money. God, he's insufferable. It's like he's trying to suck me dry. To think he still has the audacity to show up with that long face all day. I hope he drops dead!"

My stomach was screaming at me again. I curled up in my room and closed the door softly, but my mother's curses hit me like a wave of needles.

Her wish for my death kept ringing around my ears like a curse that would never shut up. I could feel my heart being flayed every time her words replayed in my mind like a demented jingle.

It was far from the first time I had heard her curse at me, but it still hurt.

I wondered if my death was a relief for her. If that was the case… Well, the doctor had announced that I had less than three months left to live. I'm certain she would be delighted when she finds my corpse.