The Deadly Birthday Wish That Broke My Family

After my birthday, the house went back to being quiet.

Every day I went to and from school, and Mom still treated me like I was invisible. She wouldn't spare me an extra glance, nor would she say another word.

I kept my head down like always, only able to see her feet rushing past me.

That night, everything was the same as usual. I waited until the three of them had finished dinner, tucked Ashton into bed, and gone back to their room to rest. Only then did I quietly feel my way into the dark kitchen.

The sharp edge of hunger had already passed. I was long used to eating cold leftovers slowly by the moonlight.

I remembered one time when I really couldn't hold it in and needed to go to the bathroom. However, the second I stepped out, the laughter and chatter at the table had stopped. The silence in the air had been so heavy that it was terrifying. Only after I'd rushed back to my room did their voices gradually start up again.

After that, I got even better at being invisible.

Suddenly, a voice came from the kitchen doorway, startling me. I jumped so hard I almost dropped my plate.

"Do you have enough lunch money?"

I was so shocked I didn't know what to do. "Y-Yeah!"

I turned and saw Mom standing a few steps away. In the dark, her brows were furrowed slightly, and her expression was hard to read.

After a few seconds, she averted her gaze and let out a cold little grunt. "Come and ask me for more if it's not enough."

In the quiet, I thought I heard the softest sigh. Maybe I imagined it.

That night, I actually had a good dream for once. In it, Mom gently kissed me on the cheek. A wave of uneasiness washed over me.

"Serena?"

She suddenly laughed. "You're supposed to call me Mom, silly."

When I woke up, I still went to school and came home alone like always.

…

On this day, the moment I stepped into our apartment complex, I saw Ashton playing around with a few other kids. He climbed to the very top of the playground.

A second later, he slipped and started to fall from up high.

I dropped my backpack and scrambled up after him, grabbing his hand with everything I had. He burst into terrified sobs, screaming and kicking wildly, stomping hard on my fingers as he scrambled to the top of the slide.

And I went straight down.

When Mom and Logan rushed over, the first thing they did was grab Ashton and hug him tightly, frantically comforting him.

Then, Ashton pointed straight at me. "He tricked me into going up there! He wanted me to fall and die!"

The little boys who'd dragged him up to play were already long gone, scared out of their minds.

Mom screamed and lunged at me, slapping me over and over like she'd lost her mind. She ignored everyone who tried to pull her back. "You menace! Did I murder your whole family in my past life or something? Is that why you won't be satisfied until you destroy mine?"

Logan's expression was dark. "Zero, if your sister wasn't so soft-hearted, you would've been dumped in an orphanage a long time ago! We've kept a roof over your head and fed you all these years. We haven't done you wrong, have we? Is this how you repay us?"

For a split second, a flicker of diffidence flashed through Mom's furious eyes. She always said I was the ball and chain my grandparents had at an old age because they were obsessed with having a son. Logan had no idea that just like Ashton, I was Mom's biological child.

My face swelled up fast, and the taste of blood spread through my mouth. My head spun, and I couldn't get a word out.

"Stop hitting him!" someone shouted.

They said they'd seen what had happened—a few little boys had been playing with Ashton. When he slipped, I was the one who'd thrown myself forward to grab him.

Mom's hand froze in midair. Through the thin slits of my swollen eyes, I just about managed to make out the awkward look on her face.

"I think he might be really hurt from the fall. You should hurry up and take him to the hospital to get checked."

Someone else muttered, "Please. As if throwing a kid some food so he doesn't starve to death makes them saints. Look at him—so skinny he's all skin and bones. Meanwhile, the other one is nice and chubby."

Mom's expression hardened. She lifted her chin stubbornly and grabbed the arm I'd landed on when I fell. "Get up. Now!"

A searing, bone-deep pain shot through my arm. I couldn't help frowning and groaning in pain.

"Do you have to act like you're half-dead so that the whole world will think I'm abusing you?" she screamed.

Someone clearly couldn't take it anymore and said, "That's not what we meant. That slide is what, 12 feet high? In the worst-case scenario, he really could've died!"

However, Mom's voice was colder than snow seeping through my shoes in winter. "Hmph. He's not dying that easily. Bad weeds grow tall!"

Yeah. Why wasn't I dead yet?

I forced myself to my feet and staggered after their retreating backs. My temple felt wet. Was it raining?

I dazedly lifted a hand and wiped at it, only to find my fingers smeared with blood.

Then, amid screams, the world spun as I pitched straight to the ground.

When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. A wave of disappointment washed over me. Why was I still alive? How long would it take for my birthday wish to finally come true?