When the Broken Heart Breaks the Soul

My sister inherited our mom's rare heart disease, but I was born perfectly healthy without a single defect.

After confirming through tests that I was indeed her biological child, Mom locked me in my room for three days.

You freak, you're nothing like my child. Just go die!

Dad held her lovingly, comforting my sister who was crying hysterically, his eyes full of blame toward me.

"You know Vivian and your sister aren't well. Why are you so inconsiderate?"

To distance herself from me, Mom wouldn't even let me share her or Dad's last name. She just flipped through a dictionary and randomly gave me a different surname.

When I was seven, on Christmas, Dad took Mom and my sister abroad for vacation.

They locked the front door from the outside, leaving me alone in the empty house.

When hunger reached its peak, I found a desiccant packet and hastily swallowed it.

As my stomach churned violently, my heart felt like it was splitting apart.

My first reaction was joy.

Mom, does this mean I have the same illness as you now?

The desiccant packet had fallen out of my sister's snack wrapper.

I remembered it was a bag of candy, colorful and beautiful, and it smelled sweet. It must have tasted delicious.

I had carefully climbed to the edge of the sofa and tugged at my sister's sleeve, begging her to let me taste just one piece.

But Mom stood beside us, looking down at me with a sinister expression.

Then without warning, she slapped my face, her tone so cold it frightened me.

"Quinn, you don't deserve it!"

Neither she nor Dad had the surname Quinn. It was just a name she'd randomly found in a dictionary and thrown at me.

She didn't stop until my face was swollen and blood dripped from the corner of my mouth.

Dad immediately stepped forward, rubbing her hand tenderly.

"Honey, why are you getting upset again? You need to take care of yourself. Don't worry, once Christmas is over, I'll send her away."

I lay on the floor, already accustomed to this treatment.

My sister ate the candy in big bites, accidentally dropping the desiccant packet into the sofa cushions.

Now I was chewing the desiccant in big bites too, imagining it was that bag of candy.

But the severe pain in my heart and stomach made it impossible to deceive myself any longer.

My entire body felt like it was burning, and I couldn't stop curling up.

As consciousness gradually blurred, I used all my remaining strength to crawl back to my room and lay on my bed.

It wasn't really a room, just a storage closet next to the bathroom.

And it wasn't really a bed, just a platform made of wooden boards.

I'd secretly been in my sister's room once. It was big and spacious and fragrant, filled with beautiful dolls.

My sister's bed was big and soft, but I only touched it lightly before Mom made me kneel all night as punishment and forbade me from eating for three days.

I cried from hunger and grabbed Dad's pant leg, asking him why Mom treated me this way.

The neighbor lady also had two children---one healthy, one sick---but she always favored the healthy one.

I heard she almost sent the sick one to an orphanage.

But my family was exactly the opposite. Mom had tried to send me to an orphanage.

If the police hadn't stopped her, I'd probably already be an orphan.

I didn't want Mom to favor me. My sister was sick and did need more attention.

I just wished Mom could be a little kinder to me, could share just a bit of the love she gave my sister.

Dad frowned as he listened, then pushed me away.

"Quinn, I always thought you were just immature. I never imagined you'd want to send your sister to an orphanage! You know your mom and sister aren't well, and yet... God, you're such a disappointment!"

I knew Dad had misunderstood and desperately tried to explain.

But he didn't give me any chance. He didn't even look at me.

The next second, the door suddenly creaked open.

My head was foggy, my attention focused on the bloody taste rising in my throat. I couldn't tell if this was memory or reality.

Until I heard my sister's cheerful voice.

"Mom, Dad, France was so fun, the steak was so good, I want to go again!"

I suddenly realized---Mom and Dad had returned from abroad with my sister.

I quickly tried to get up to greet them. If I was late, Mom would get angry.

But suddenly I realized I was very close to the ceiling.

Looking down, I saw my small body on the bed, covered tightly with a blanket.

And I was floating in the air, already transformed into a transparent soul.

"Baby, you must be hungry after all this time. Mommy will cook for you right now."

I carefully floated to the kitchen, watching Mom prepare dish after dish of my sister's favorite foods.

I hadn't eaten in so long. I was drooling with hunger.

Dad sat on the sofa watching TV with my sister when he suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, where's Quinn? Why is it so quiet?"

Mom's hands suddenly stopped moving.

"Why mention her on such a happy day? She's probably sleeping late in her room."

Mom, that's not true. I wasn't sleeping late.

Every day I woke up to clean, scrubbed the toilet until it was spotless.

"Didn't you say you'd get rid of her as soon as possible? I'm telling you, it's either me or her in this house!" Mom slammed down the kitchen utensil in her hand, her words leaving no room for argument.

Then she lowered her head and muttered to herself, "Why is she the normal one? Why!"

The tone in her voice made me feel strange.

Mom didn't love me---was it because she favored my sister, or because she was... jealous of me?

She'd said these same words before, when I brought home a running award.

She stared at my certificate with bloodshot eyes, then grabbed a feather duster and beat my legs viciously.

"How dare you run! You know your sister and I have heart conditions and can't run. Who are you showing off to? Why are you the normal one? Why!"

The pain made me cry. I knelt down and begged Mom.

"Mom, I won't run anymore, I'll never run again!"

She acted as if she couldn't hear my pleas, couldn't see the flesh torn open on my legs.

She kept beating me until I nearly passed out, until my leg bone made a cracking sound. Only then did she stop and call my PE teacher.

"Quinn broke her leg. She can never run again."

The PE teacher sighed, "What a shame. The kid had real talent."

A strange smile appeared on Mom's face as she looked at me with ill intent.

"You won an award for a painting too, didn't you?"

I didn't understand what she meant. I just shrank back, not daring to speak.

After my injury healed, Mom took me back to school, called my homeroom teacher, and shouted in front of the entire class.

"Quinn's grades are all from cheating, including that award-winning painting---her sister drew it for her. She's a shameless thief. Nobody is allowed to play with her anymore!"

Then she pulled out my books from my backpack and tore them to shreds, one by one.

The friend I used to play with most looked at me with disgust.

I gradually lowered my head amid everyone's condemnation, not even daring to defend myself loudly.

The homeroom teacher looked shocked and tried to reason with Mom.

But Dad suddenly arrived and pulled Mom into his arms.

"Quinn, why are you provoking your mother again? Is this the first day you've known she has a heart condition?"

At those words, the teacher stopped and didn't dare approach.

Dad pulled Mom's hand and walked out of the classroom.

Before leaving, Mom turned back to look at me with a triumphant expression.

I stood there at a loss while my classmates chattered around me.

After that, I became a loner, a freak.

Any talent I displayed was ruined by Mom. My excellent grades became reasons for her to beat and scold me.

Or rather, my very existence was the root cause of Mom's anger.

Thinking of this, I suddenly felt that death was a good thing.

At least Mom wouldn't be angry anymore.

At least I wouldn't be sad about Mom not loving me anymore.

But I was wrong.

Watching Mom feed my sister bite by bite, thoughtfully wiping the residue from the corner of her mouth, my heart wrenched violently.

Storybooks said that when people die, they lose all sensation.

Lies. I could still feel heartache.

Halfway through the meal, my sister suddenly pushed open my door, showing off the new necklace around her neck.

"Quinn, look! Mom bought me this new necklace. Isn't it pretty?"

I was already used to my sister's bragging and felt no emotional ripple.

My attention was entirely focused on her hands, afraid she'd pull back my blanket and discover I was dead.

When my sister realized I wasn't responding, she pouted unhappily and started crying loudly.

Mom immediately appeared, holding my sister in her arms and comforting her softly.

Once my sister finally calmed down, Mom expertly grabbed a stick from behind my door---one she kept there specifically for punishing me.

"Quinn, don't think you can lord it over everyone just because you're healthy! I'll beat you to death!"

But no matter how long she beat me, I showed no reaction.

She grew suspicious and pulled back a corner of the blanket. When she saw the vomit from the desiccant I'd swallowed, she was startled.

"Well, well, Quinn, you actually vomited in bed! You're disgusting! Don't think staying quiet will save you!"

Then she called Dad over, her eyes sharp as knives.

"Send her away. Right now. I don't want to see her for another second!"

Dad spoke in a gentle, soothing voice.

"Okay, whatever you say. I've already made arrangements. They'll come pick her up tomorrow. We just need to endure one more day, okay?"

Mom nodded with difficulty, took my sister's hand, and spoke in a gentle, patient tone.

"Baby, ignore your sister. She doesn't deserve to be Mommy's daughter. Come on, Mommy will take you out to ride the carousel, okay?"

I'd never ridden a carousel.

I used to secretly watch my sister ride. I heard it was fun.

Too bad I'd never get the chance now.

After Mom left with my sister, Dad sat on the edge of my bed, sighing repeatedly.

"Quinn, don't blame your mother. She's sick, and your sister is sick too. You need to understand her. Actually, she... loves you."

He said those last three words with very little confidence.

It was the first time I'd seen Dad cry. I wanted to reach out and wipe his tears, but my hand just passed through his body.

He gently took my hand. "Your mom hit you pretty hard just now, didn't she? Come on, get up, Dad will take you to the hospital."

But Dad, I can't get up anymore.

Seeing my prolonged lack of response, Dad looked puzzled and pushed me, then started to pull back my blanket.

I closed my eyes, not daring to imagine Dad's reaction when he discovered I was dead.

But the next second, a phone ringtone rang out abruptly.

The voice from the hospital came through.

"Sir, your wife had a sudden heart attack and was hospitalized. Your daughter was frightened, and her condition isn't good either."

Dad couldn't spare another thought. He abandoned me and rushed out the door.

My soul was suddenly pulled by an invisible force, and the next second I was at the hospital.

Mom lay in the hospital bed, her face pale.

Even at this point, she kept muttering to Dad.

"Honey, I don't have much longer to live. Please send Quinn away immediately, okay? My chest hurts just seeing her!"

Mom, your chest won't hurt anymore. You won't have to be angry anymore.

I'm already dead. You'll never have to see me again.

Dad looked at the ceiling with a complicated expression, then called his assistant in front of Mom.

"Go to my house right now and take Quinn away immediately. That boarding school I contacted before---I'll send you the address. The boarding school is in another province. Help Quinn pack extra clothes..."

Before Dad could finish, Mom snatched the phone.

"Make her stay there for the rest of her life! Don't let her set foot in this city again!"

The assistant quickly agreed and hung up.

Only then did Mom calm down and lie back peacefully under Dad's soothing.

Dad sighed and went to ask the doctor about her condition.

Passing by my sister's room, the heartache in his eyes nearly overflowed.

Because my sister's condition looked a hundred times worse than Mom's. Her face was white as paper, completely lifeless.

The doctor called Dad into the office and showed him the diagnosis.

"Mr. Carter, your wife's heart attack was severe this time, but she was treated promptly and should be fine. But your daughter was frightened. She's very young, and it's dangerous."

As Dad looked on in despair, the doctor patted his shoulder.

"However, we just learned there's a heart donor that matches your daughter. If you want to proceed with the heart transplant, I'll arrange it immediately."

Dad nodded repeatedly. "Doctor, yes, please save my daughter."

But Mom appeared behind Dad like a ghost.

"Why? Why did I wait all these years for a donor and never get one, but she gets one so young?"

Her tone was calm, yet chilling.

The doctor patiently explained, "Mrs. Carter, we're also sorry about this situation, but..."

Mom didn't give the doctor a chance to finish.

"No. I won't allow it!" She was gasping heavily, her eyes bloodshot and obsessive.

Then she ran to my sister's bedside, yanked off the oxygen tube, and shook her small shoulders violently.

"I thought you were like me, that you'd always be on my side. But now... you're just like Quinn. You're both liars. Neither of you deserves to be my child! You should die. Just die!"

I was stunned by this series of events.

The mother who just moments ago showered my sister with extreme love, who let her act spoiled, who was willing to sacrifice everything for her.

How had she now become this crazed creature?

I suddenly realized she didn't love me or my sister.

Or rather, her favoritism toward my sister was built entirely on the foundation of my sister being sick.

Mom's screaming continued. "Why am I the only one in this family who has to suffer? I won't allow it! I won't!"

As she spoke, she squeezed my sister's neck with all her strength.

My sister's eyes flew open, unable to believe that the person trying to kill her was her own mother.

Mom's strength was enormous. It took Dad and several medical staff together to pull her away.

In the chaos, Dad's phone rang at the worst possible moment.

Dad couldn't answer and hung up several times.

Only after the doctor finally gave Mom a sedative and she calmed down did Dad open his phone.

What appeared before his eyes were several photos and a message from his assistant.

[Mr. Carter, this is bad. Quinn... she's dead!]