Chapter 3
790 Words
At that time, I was incredibly naive. I thought that maybe my mom didn't care about me because we were together every day.
I wondered if I disappeared for a while, would absence make her like me more?
During my three years of middle school, I eagerly applied to live on campus, and my mom agreed.
I only went home once a week, but she still didn't notice me.
Later, I came home just once a month, and she remained oblivious.
Even now, when I stand right before her, her gaze was always on my little brother.
It seemed like he was her entire world, her everything.
I didn't want to follow her any longer, but I felt stuck.
Would I be trapped by her forever?
I didn't want that.
I didn't want to witness their family's sweetness and happiness.
Jealousy filled me. A sense of injustice settled in my heart, and I yearned to escape.
The party came to an end, and guests began to leave one after another.
My brother sat in the living room opening gifts while I was forced to sit with my mom.
I overheard her speaking to the nanny. "My phone kept ringing just now, but I couldn't find it. Cassie, did you see it?"
Cassie went to the kitchen and returned with the phone.
"Mr. Lucas Wilson brought it in. He said there are so many people outside that he didn't want it to get stolen."
My mom glanced at my brother, who was busy with his gifts, and tried to call back.
No one answered.
Of course no one would answer. I was already dead.
"Kate called. Why isn't she answering? Well, never mind. Lucas, it's time for you to sleep. You have an equestrian test tomorrow morning. Get some rest so you can aim for an A+."
This was my mom. I made so many calls, but my concerns weren't as important as my brother's test.
I still remembered that year when I was thirteen, in the second semester of seventh grade.
My brother was just three years old then, the perfect age to be adored.
I lived at school, unable to sleep through the night, anxious and wanting to cry.
During class, I couldn't focus at all, and I began to do worse in my studies.
My teacher spoke to my mom, who didn't ask me a single thing before slapping me.
"I spent so much money to send you to this school, and you can't even pay attention in class! Do you have any idea how much your tuition is every semester? Over 50,000 dollars! Aaron paid for that. It's a debt of gratitude I owe him. You need to study hard so you can get into a good university in the future. Only then can I hold my head high and not feel ashamed. Do you understand?"
I lowered my head, listening to my mom's scolding, and I was happy.
At least she was paying attention to me. She came to see me.
I understood my mom's wish. She wanted me to get into a good university.
From that day on, I worked hard to study. I ranked first in my class and placed in the top five of my grade every year.
Yet, my mom never came again.
Did I have to act out for her to notice me?
In the first semester of eighth grade, my insomnia and anxiety worsened.
My grades dropped sharply again, and the teacher called my parents. But this time, my mom didn't come.
She simply called me and said, "If you don't want to study, then quit it. Finish this semester and go live with your dad. I don't have a useless daughter like you."
I felt nervous and scared.
My dad was a devil, a monster who transformed when he drank.
My mom clearly knew what he was like, yet she wanted me to go find him.
I felt miserable. It was the hardest time I had experienced in years.
I even thought about suicide, hesitating with a knife against my wrist.
But I still wouldn't give up. I wasn't ready to die like that.
In the last semester of middle school, I began to sprint toward the test. Thanks to my excellent SSAT scores, I got into Commonwealth School, a dream school for many students.
That summer after the exams, my mom took me shopping for beautiful clothes, and I was so happy.
Even though she bought even more for my brother, I hadn't spent that much time with her in a long while.
The first day of high school also marked the day my brother started first grade.
It was clear my mom chose my brother over me.
- Writer
