Better Not Born

1
I bought a small slice of cake for my birthday. A gift to myself.
I got home just as my sister was having one of her episodes.
In the agonizingly slow minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, my mom spotted the small cake box in my hand. All her fear and rage found a target. She lunged at me, and a sharp sting exploded across my cheek as her palm connected with my face.
"Your sister is dying, and you have the nerve to be thinking about cake? How did I give birth to such a cold-hearted monster!"
My dad's foot slammed into the back of my knees, sending me crashing to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a low growl. "If it wasn't for Tina's illness, we never would have had you!"
The cake box hit the wall, splattering cream and crumbs across my shirt. I stared down at the mess, my head bowed. It felt like an eternity before I could speak.
"Then you can just pretend I'm dead."
...
The twisted fury on my parents' faces froze, replaced by disbelief.
"What did you just say?"
I was a pathetic heap on the floor, my worn-out t-shirt smeared with buttercream.
"I said," I repeated, my voice surprisingly steady, a strange calm settling over me, "you can just pretend I'm dead."
My sister, Tina, was diagnosed with a rare congenital immune disease when she was three. She needed a bone marrow transplant. After my parents both proved to be incompatible donors, I was conceived to save her.
Until I was six, I was passed around between relatives. The only time my parents ever appeared was when Tina had a flare-up, and they'd drag me, frantic and panicked, to the hospital.
My entire childhood was a soundtrack of my own screams as thumb-thick needles plunged into my flesh, punctuated by my parents' harsh commands to "hold still."
As I grew older, Tina's staggering medical bills became a crushing weight. They pulled me out of school and forced me to study nursing, all so I could be a better caretaker for her.
"You should be grateful to Tina," they'd say, over and over again. "She's the reason you exist."
"And I'd rather have never been born."
...
Mom must have realized she'd gone too far, but her voice was still dripping with blame.
"You know perfectly well your sister can't eat cake because of her condition. You bought it just to spite her, didn't you? I see right through you!"
She snatched the ruined box and hurled it into the trash, the little fondant rabbit on top shattering into pieces. Then she turned to Tina, her voice melting into gentle sympathy. "Don't you worry, my sweet Tina. In this house, no one will ever make you feel bad!"
Dads face was a thundercloud. "How dare you talk back to us. You're just asking for it, aren't you?"
The shouting had drawn the prying eyes of our neighbors, their faces peeking out from doorways. Mom immediately put on a mask of weary apology for their benefit.
"Oh, please forgive the noise. Leah is just being a bit difficult. Her sister is having an attack, and she started a tantrum over wanting cake."
"Her father and I are trying to teach her some discipline. Tina's so fragile, you know, and Leah will have to take care of her for the rest of her life. She can't be so selfish!"
She effortlessly painted me as the villain, directing the neighbors' chorus of tuts and disapproving glares my way.
But the truth was much simpler.
I was just tired after a long day.
I passed the bakery.
The sweet scent pulled me in.
I remembered it was my birthday.
That's all.
The handprint on my cheek burned.
I lifted my head, my gaze sweeping over the dining table, laden with an elaborate spread of dishes.
"You know all of Tina's favorite foods, her favorite jewelry... you have it all memorized."
A tear threatened to fall, but I blinked it back. My voice was barely a whisper. "Mom, do you even remember when my birthday is?"
Her tirade stopped short. A flicker of confusion crossed her face.
She didn't remember.
Just like she didn't love me.
I'd known this my whole life, but in that single, silent moment, the truth still managed to break me. The tears came, hot and silent.
"August 19th," I choked out. "It's today."
"My eighteenth birthday."
I dropped my gaze, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Mom... what am I to you? Really?"
For a second, I saw a flash of panic in her eyes. She opened her mouth, as if to offer some kind of explanation.
But then a soft cough stole her attention.
Tina's eyes were red-rimmed. She coughed again, thumping a frail fist against her chest.
"It's all my fault," she rasped, her voice thick with self-pity. "This useless body of mine... ruining my little sister's birthday. I'm so sorry, Leah. Please, don't be mad at Mom and Dad. It's all my fault. You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want..."
With a dramatic flourish, she struggled to get up, as if she were about to kneel before me.
I instinctively reached out to steady her, but a violent force slammed into me from behind.
"Leah, that's enough!" Dad roared, his eyes blazing with fury. "Tina is fighting for her life, and you're still throwing a fit over a stupid piece of cake!"
The kick sent me flying. My forehead smashed into the sharp corner of the table, and warm blood trickled down my face.
Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Tina's tearful voice.
"Oh, Leah, I envy you so much. You have a healthy body. You can celebrate your birthday like a normal person..." She let out a heart-wrenching sob. "Unlike me... I'm so sick I can't even have a single bite of cake..."
Her tears were all it took to melt our parents' hearts and stoke the flames of their rage toward me.
"Apologize to Tina. Now!" Dad commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
When I refused, his anger boiled over. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started dragging me across the floor. The searing pain ripped a scream from my throat, which only seemed to enrage him more.
"We had you for your sister's sake! That's it!" he snarled, yanking my head back. "If you can't handle a little pain, how are you ever going to take care of her?"
He forced me to my knees in front of Tina, slamming my head down against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times. Blood matted my hair and dripped onto the carpet.
Only then did Tina speak, her voice slow and syrupy.
"It's okay, little sister. I forgive you."
She gave me a condescending smile. "Mom and Dad work so hard to keep this family afloat. You need to be more understanding and stop making them upset."
The neighbors cooed over how beautiful and kind and mature she was, how lucky our parents were to have such a wonderful daughter.
No one spared a glance for the bleeding, broken girl in the corner.
My heart, finally and completely, turned to stone. I staggered to my feet, desperate to escape. As I reached the front door, Dad's icy voice cut through the air behind me.
"You take one step out that door, and you are no longer a part of this family. You will have nothing to do with us ever again!"
Decades of repressed emotion crashed over me like a tidal wave. A crushing weight settled on my chest, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. I collapsed, my body convulsing on the welcome mat.
"Mom... help me..." I begged, my eyes finding hers.
I thought, I hoped, that even if she didn't love me, she wouldn't just stand there and watch me die.
But she just gave me a look of pure indifference. She even held up a hand to stop a concerned neighbor from approaching.
"Don't worry about her," she said dismissively. "She's always been a drama queen, pulling stunts like this for attention."
I stared at her, my world tilting on its axis. Her voice was cold as steel. "You tried this same trick ten years ago. It almost drove Tina to suicide. You really think I'm going to fall for it again?"
Just then, the paramedics arrived. In a flurry of motion, they surrounded Tina, lifting her onto a stretcher. As they rushed her out, the last thing I heard before the darkness took me was my mother's voice, laced with venom. "I will never forgive her for the scars on Tina's body. Never."
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm.
A doctor with kind eyes sighed, his expression full of pity. "My dear girl... who did this to you?"
My father's parting gift. Three fractured bones.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Mom.
"Where the hell are you? It's past dinnertime! Don't you know your sister can't go hungry when she's this weak?" she screeched the moment I answered.
"Tina wants sweet and sour ribs! Get them made and bring them over! Now!"
Not a single question about where I was, or if I was okay.
It was an asthma attack, triggered by the intense emotional distress. If the neighbor hadn't ignored my mother and called a second ambulance for me, I might be dead.
The life I owed them would have been paid in full.
"From now on," I said into the phone, my voice flat, "I have nothing to do with you."
I hung up. The only sound was the steady drip of the IV. And suddenly, a memory surfaced.
I was six years old.
Thanks to my bone marrow, Tina's condition had stabilized. My parents, celebrating her recovery, finally remembered the little daughter they had stashed with relatives.
They came for me on a snowy day. They saw my too-short coat and my hands covered in chilblains, and for the first time, I saw guilt in their eyes.
They took me to an amusement park, to a real restaurant, to the movies. They bought me new clothes, a new backpack, and a soft, cuddly doll I fell in love with instantly.
That night, I fell asleep clutching my new doll while my mother hummed a lullaby. It was the first time she had ever been so gentle with me.
That gentleness shattered the day they found out Tina had tried to kill herself.
In a sterile hospital room, I met my sister for the first time. She was swimming in an oversized hospital gown, a pale, fragile creature huddled in the corner of her bed. But her eyes, when they met mine, were full of a stubborn, wounded pride.
When she saw our parents holding my hand, she burst into tears.
"I'm just a burden to you, aren't I, Mommy?" she wailed. "Everyone says now that you have a new daughter, you don't want me anymore!"
Mom rushed to her, pulling her into a fierce embrace, but it did nothing to stop the flow of tears.
"Just let me die, Mommy," she sobbed. "You have Leah now, a healthy child... I can't do anything..."
That was the moment. That was the day my mother made her choice. She held Tina's face in her hands and told her:
"You are the only daughter I will ever have. Leah is just a tool, born for your sake."
I was too young to understand what those words truly meant. All I knew was that from that day on, everything changed.
Mom stopped calling me her 'sweetheart.' She never bought me another piece of clothing. For a long time, she wouldn't even let me call her 'Mom.'
"I only have one daughter," she would say, as if trying to convince both herself and me.
But I refused to believe it. I stubbornly craved that sliver of affection I once had.
The memories flickered through my mind like a broken film reel.
The door to my hospital room swung open. My parents and Tina stood there.
Moms eyes widened for a moment when she saw the bandages. "You're really hurt?"
But before she could say more, Tina shot me a look of disapproval. "Leah, I know you're jealous of me, but you shouldn't fake an injury and waste medical resources like this. What about the people who are actually sick?"
A look of dawning comprehension spread across Moms face. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Leah, will you ever stop? Can't you quit these pathetic little games?"
Her gaze softened slightly as she took in my pale face. "Alright, alright. I know you're just upset that we forgot your birthday."
She pulled a bright red folder from her purse, but she handed it not to me, but to Tina. "You know, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for your big sister. So, on your birthday, the first gift should naturally go to Tina!"
She presented the folder to Tina as if it were a trophy. "Tina, honey, Dad and I sold the old family home to buy this for you. We know your health is poor and you can't work. This house... this is your safety net. Your security."
"With this, even when Dad and I are gone, no one will ever be able to push you around!"
Tina opened it, her gasp echoing in the quiet room. "Oh my god! A half-a-million-dollar lakeside house! Dad, Mom, thank you so much!"
She threw her arms around Mom's neck. Dad watched them, his expression soft and loving.
A perfect, happy family of three. And me, the unwelcome intruder.
After their tearful reunion wound down, Mom finally seemed to remember I was there.
"I know how you like to keep score, so don't worry. We got something for you, too."
She shoved a cheap, old bracelet into my hand. The glass stone was murky and dull. The faded trinket in my palm was a pathetic contrast to the vibrant deed Tina clutched to her chest.
Suddenly, the birthday present I had yearned for for so long seemed utterly meaningless.
Without another word, right there in front of them, I pulled out my phone and made a call.
"Hello, I'd like to press charges."
"Against my own father."
At the police station, Dad finally snapped out of his stunned silence. "Can you stop this nonsense already?" was the first thing he said.
"I hit you a couple of times, and you call the cops? Let me tell you something! You are my daughter! I raised you! It's my right to discipline you, even if it means beating you to death!" He was panting, his eyes glaring at me as if I were his mortal enemy.
Tina chimed in, her voice dripping with false concern. "She's right, Leah. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child.' Dad was only doing it for your own good."
She turned to the officers with a helpless sigh. "My sister... she's always been rebellious. She used to steal money and jewelry from our relatives when she was little. It only got worse as she got older. She dropped out of middle school, and... well..."
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "She started sneaking out to spend the night with all sorts of men."
The air in the room shifted. Suddenly, every eye on me was filled with judgment.
I trembled with rage. "Tina, you know damn well why I dropped out of school! How can you stand there and say that?"
In ninth grade, I'd aced the city-wide exams. The best high schools were offering me full scholarships. All I had to do was show up.
But then Tina had sighed one evening, "I envy Leah so much. She gets to have a normal, carefree school life. Unlike me... trapped by this body, I'll never escape the hospital..."
And just like that, my parents forced me to drop out.
My teachers came to our house to plead my case. They promised I was university-bound. But nothing could sway my mother.
"We're a poor family," she'd stated flatly. "We need Leah to get a job and earn money for her sister's treatment."
But I knew the truth.
It wasn't about the money.
She just couldn't bear to see Tina sad.
Before I could say anything else, Tina clutched her chest, a look of pain on her face. "I'm sorry, sister, I misspoke. Please don't be angry..."
That was all it took for Mom to lose it.
"Enough!" she shrieked. "Tina was just trying to keep you from going down the wrong path! You should be grateful, but instead you scream at her? I've been too soft on you, and that's why you think you can bully her over and over again!"
Then, to my horror, Mom took out her phone, opened an app, and pointed the camera at me.
"I should have listened to Tina from the start and put you on blast for the whole world to see what a monster you are!"
Viewers flooded into the livestream. Fueled by my mother's twisted narrative, a torrent of righteous fury was directed at me.
These parents are too kind! That's how you end up with a leech like her. I would've thrown her out years ago!
Exactly! Screaming at her sick sister? She's doing it on purpose, the little psycho!
...
Watching the stream of hate-filled comments, Mom finally seemed satisfied. "See? Now you know how good we are to you."
"Oh, yes. Three broken bones. You're just the best." My voice was eerily calm, a stark contrast to the chaos on her screen. I looked past her, my eyes landing on Tina.
"Doesn't Tina remind you of someone?" I asked quietly.
"Who?" Mom asked, caught off guard.
"Evelyn."
Evelyn. The daughter my grandparents had adopted. My aunt.
And my father's unforgettable first love.
At the sound of her name, the color drained from my father's face. "Shut up! Don't you dare say her name!" He was like a cornered animal, his anger mixed with a potent dose of guilt.
This bizarre reaction didn't escape my mother's notice.
"I remember Dad saying, back when he was drunk once, that Aunt Evelyn had the most enchanting, almond-shaped eyes."
My mother has soft, round eyes. I have her eyes.
But Tina... Tina doesn't look like our mother, or our father. She has the exact same almond-shaped eyes as Evelyn.
Meeting my mother's stunned gaze, I smiled and held out a document I had prepared. A declaration to sever all family ties.
"Sign this," I said, "and I'll tell you a secret."

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