The Girl Who Bore Her Mother’s Bones

At ten, my mother was murdered by my father. I fled as he buried her. Dying, she told me to find my uncle in Portwicka CEO whod feed me, for family. But when I found him, holding my little cousin, he glared down.

Why isnt trash like you dead?

I looked at him, and the last hope in my heart died.

Mr. Green sneered. Want money? Tell your wretched mother to come herself!

He took my cousin into a jewelry store. Pressed to the window, I watched him choose a gold bracelet for her. Id never seen anything so beautifulgleaming, carved with clouds, dazzling on her wrist.

What are you staring at? You deserve to look? Ill gouge your eyes out!

He came out, glared, then drove off with her in a sleek car, leaving me in exhaust. I stood, watching the car vanish. Only when my stomach growled did I remember.

Mom was wrong. My uncle wouldnt feed me. He could buy a sparkling bracelet without a thought, drive away in a car whose name I didnt know. Yet when I begged for a coin for bread, he told me to find my mother. But she was deadchopped up and buried.

Portwick's streets buzzed with people. The sky gradually darkened, and a fine drizzle began to fall. I huddled under the eaves of an alleyway, rolling up my sleeves. My pale, gaunt arms were covered in hideous scars. Some had scabbed over, others still seeped blood and pus. Whenever Father got angry, he would take a small knife and carve into my skin. He savored the process, always cutting very lightly, very slowly, sometimes even licking the blood from my arm with a look of perverse ecstasy. It felt like a cold, slimy snake slithering on my arm. Disgusting and terrifying.

Recalling my cousins gold bracelet, I raised my hand and looked at my own bruised wrist. "Such a beautiful bracelet would only get dirty on my hand." But if only I had a gold bracelet! I could trade it for so much rice, and cook it into sweet, fragrant white rice. My mom always said white rice was delicious.

I licked my chapped lips, swaying as I stood up. I hadnt eaten in two days. If I didn't get something soon, I would starve to death. I walked to the door of a bakery, wondering if I could offer to help in exchange for food. The moment I stepped inside, the owner waved me out.

"Where did this beggar come from? Go, go! Don't ruin my business."

I trudged through the rain, numbly walking down the street, past fast-food restaurants, clothing stores... I asked one place after another. Even offering to work without pay, just for food, no one would take me.

Until a woman calling herself Ms. Ruby stopped me. She pinched my chin, scrutinizing me, then let out a laugh. "Well, well, darling, you've got good features. You look haggard now, but with some care, you might turn into a real beauty."

The damp, musty smell of the alley mixed with cheap perfume hit me. She leaned against the mottled brick wall, the tip of her cigarette glowing with her words. "Sweetheart, Auntie can help you make quick money." She stubbed out her cigarette, motioning for me to follow. She thought I was young and easy to trick, but I knew what she was planning. My mother not only taught me to read but also to read people. She clearly intended to lead me into illegal activities. Yet, at that moment, what choice did I have but to follow her?

Seeing my silence, the woman pulled a piece of candy from her pocket and held it to my mouth. "Come with me, and you'll get candy. And later, there will be many things even tastier than candy." I instinctively licked the sugary residue from the corner of my mouth. So sweet. I had never tasted anything so sweet. I stared at the candy she took back, swallowed, and prepared to walk into the alley.

Just then, a large hand suddenly grabbed my collar. It was my uncle! He gripped my hand, his eyes scanning me with unconcealed disgust.

"You're as despicable as Evelyn Chase, even your manipulative tricks are identical. It's truly repulsive!"

"How could our Green family have descendants like you? So young, yet utterly shameless, even more depraved than your mother!"

"Come, take me to your mother..." He tugged my collar, dragging me toward the roadside. I swayed, my vision blurring. My stomach ached from emptiness, and my consciousness was already fading. I knew clearly that if I didn't eat soon, I would starve to death. In the instant my last shred of rationality shattered, I bit down hard on his arm. I tasted blood, tearing off a small piece of flesh and swallowing it with the blood.

With a furious roar, he kicked me hard in the chest. As my back slammed against the cold concrete, I completely blacked out. Well, at least I'd tasted meat in this lifetime. But it was truly disgusting...

I was woken by cold water. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a luxurious villa with crystal chandeliers. Before I could make sense of anything, my nape was roughly grabbed. A fierce-looking housekeeper pinched my nose, forcing a bowl of cold, sour porridge down my throat. Afterward, I was led to my uncle's study.

In the study, my uncle stood with his back to the door, discussing me with the family doctor. "So, she bit me like a mad dog just because she was too hungry?"

The family doctor nodded, looking at me with sympathy. "Yes, a little longer without food, and she would have starved to death." My uncle waved his hand, and the doctor left. I was dragged by two servants and thrown before my uncle. I stumbled a few steps, falling to the floor.

My uncle looked down at me, his face grim, his gaze like he was looking at a repulsive, ugly cockroach. His eyes moved upward, to where I had bitten him, which had been disinfected and bandaged with white gauze.

"About to starve to death and you couldn't speak? Or were you deliberately trying to get back at me?"

I looked at him quietly, my voice as light as a feather floating in the wind. "Sir, the first thing I said when I saw you was that I was hungry and asked if you could spare a coin for a bun."

He paused, clearly remembering. But soon, he frowned again with displeasure. "Why aren't you calling me 'Uncle' anymore?"

I lowered my face in silence. When I first saw him, I had indeed happily called him "Uncle." But now, I didn't want to.

He prodded my chin with the tip of his shoe. "Tongue-tied?" Then, he forced a chilling smile, his eyes cutting like knives. "If you want more food, take me to your mother. I want to see what's so great out there that she hasn't set foot home in ten years. Now that she's down on her luck, she sends you back to beg for food."

I nodded. "Give me food, and I'll take you to her. Oh, and the food needs to be freshly steamed and hot. Not like just now, giving me cold, sour porridge; it'll make my stomach upset."

The housekeeper standing by the door immediately bent over. "Mr. Green, I clearly gave the young lady warm seafood porridge just now. She's lying."

My uncle frowned in displeasure, his gaze at me growing even more disgusted. "Just like your mother, a habitual liar, despicable to the core!"

I glanced at the housekeeper, then abruptly bent over, thrusting my fingers deep into my throat. I brought up the sour porridge I had just been forced to swallow. My uncle recoiled several steps, startled by my action.

I looked at him calmly, and said, "See? This porridge was only in my stomach for a moment, yet it's still cold."

The vomit on the floor emitted a strong, sour odor. My uncle covered his nose, his brows deeply furrowed. How could something just eaten give off a sour smell? He glanced at the housekeeper, who was bent over, trembling slightly, not daring to lift her head. What more was there to understand? My uncle snorted coldly, "Who gave you the audacity to feed sour porridge to a Green lady!"

The housekeeper's lips trembled, about to speak.

From outside the study, a soft female voice floated in. "I told her to give it to her. Evelyn Chase's daughter, a bowl of sour porridge is too good for her."

I looked up towards the study door. A elegantly dressed woman, her makeup flawless, slowly walked into the room on slender high heels. Seeing her face, I paused for a moment, almost calling out "Mom." But I knew she wasn't. While my mother resembled her greatly, she had a softer gentleness, and her appearance was more aged and haggard. After all, after my mother was sold to my father, she hadn't known a single good day. She couldn't compare to my aunt, who had never done a day's work.

My Aunt Charlotte, her face cold, walked up to me. Seeing the vomit on the floor, she covered her nose in disgust with her exquisitely manicured hand. A hint of pleasure flickered in her eyes, as beautiful as my mother's.

"You look so much like that hussy Evelyn Chase, both of you like vixen-demons!"

"Speak! Where is that wretch who even seduced her own brother-in-law now?"

I lowered my eyes, softly saying, "Give me food, and I'll take you to her."

My aunt looked at me disdainfully, scoffing. "What are you, to dare bargain with me here?"

My uncle, however, frowned and instructed a servant to bring some food. "Eat! Don't starve to death in my house, it's bad luck!" My aunt glared at him in displeasure. "Brother, you're not going soft on this bastard, are you?" My uncle shook his head and said nothing, but his gaze at me was as dark as ink.

I was starving, so I picked up the bowl and began to eat. It was sweet and savory; my mother hadn't lied to me. White rice was so delicious, much better than coarse grain. I took two bites and then stopped, putting the rest of the food into a bag. My uncle looked at me, his frown deepening. "Didn't your mother feed you?" I gently shook my head. "My mother saved all the good things for me to eat."

My uncle suddenly scoffed, his face filled with disgust. "You're too engrossed in your act. Do you think I'll believe you?"

I didn't answer him, just calmly stated, "Let's go. I'll take you to Mom." My aunt Charlotte sneered, telling the chauffeur to get the car, but pointed at my nose and said, "You're not getting in the car. You're too disgusting; just looking at you makes me sick!"

I gripped my sleeve, watching my little cousin, dressed like a doll, being carried into the sedan. My heart was filled with envy. My mom rarely held me. Most of the time, she wanted to strangle me. Because she said my birth was a mistake. But when she was locked alone in the cellar, I was the only one by her side. My mom had a soft heart... When she was in a good mood, she would teach me to write and draw. She told me many stories about the Green family, and she also taught me to dance. But I was too clumsy and never learned well.

My mom said she was once named the youngest dancer, winning countless gold trophies and medals, and was honored as an outstanding young artist. Back then, her future was bright, like the proudest white swan in the middle of Swan Lake. If she hadn't been framed and had her Achilles tendons severed, she wouldn't have fallen to this state. Many times she wanted to kill herself, but the hatred burning in her eyes compelled her to live.

My uncle stood by the car, seeing me rooted to the spot. He asked suspiciously, "Can't you open a car door?" I shook my head. "You can't even do that? Are you useless?" "Yes! I'm useless!" I hung my head, remembering how my mother was chopped into pieces by that scum of a father, and he even wanted me to help him. And I, this useless person, could only watch everything happen, unable to save her.

"You..." My uncle laughed in exasperation. "How could our Green family have such an idiotic and pathetic descendant? Don't you dare tell anyone you're my niece from now on." I nodded. "Okay!"

My uncle looked at me speechlessly, a helpless expression on his face. Finally, he opened the car door for me, and I got into the chauffeurs car alone. The chauffeur put on a face mask, to avoid being overwhelmed by my stench. Even with the window open, the chauffeur still couldnt help but throw up halfway through the journey. My uncles face was grim; he furrowed his brow and said, How can a girl smell so awful?

His face was as dark as thunder. He navigated to the nearest hotel and ordered the maid, Mrs. Reed, who had followed along, to give me a bath. In the bathroom, when Mrs. Reed removed my ragged outer clothes, she cried out in alarm. My uncle, waiting at the door, thought something had happened to me again and rushed in immediately. "Mrs. Reed, what's wrong with her?"

Mrs. Reed covered her mouth, looking at me with a pained expression, her voice trembling slightly. "Sir, please have some pity on the young lady..." "What young lady? She doesn't deserve it..." He had barely finished speaking when his gaze fell upon my back, and he froze. My small, emaciated back was covered in dense, horrifying knife wounds. The newest one was from my father branding me with a burning poker. That poker, fresh from the stove, glowed red. The moment it touched my back, I immediately smelled burning flesh and an absurd scent of roasted meat. These scars must be so ugly! Mrs. Reed seemed kind. Her warm hand gently touched the wounds on my back, and tears immediately welled in her eyes, marked by wrinkles. "She smells because she's rotting! And her body is very hot; she seems to have a fever..."

My uncle stared, momentarily lost, before realizing I was a girl. He quickly turned his back, took a deep breath, and then, controlling his emotions with great effort, slowly said, "Just give her a quick wash for now. We'll go to the hospital later; take her to see a doctor." Mrs. Reed agreed. But I shook my head, refusing. "It's nothing serious. I'll just put some mud on it, like before. It always healed that way. I haven't been able to find mud since I came to the city, that's why..."

Mrs. Reed's eyes widened in shock. "If you're hurt, you should go to the hospital. How can you put mud on it?"

Even though I said not to bother, Mrs. Reed followed my uncle's instructions. She gave me a quick wash and then took me to the hospital. The doctor disinfected and dressed my wounds. Because it took some time, my aunt Charlotte's face was so dark it looked like it could drip water. "Why are we wasting money and time on her? That little bastard, she's just like her mother, always pretending to be pitiful."

Hearing her words, my uncle's hand, reaching for my cousin, paused, then withdrew. My cousin pouted, crying in a baby voice, wanting him to hold her. She was only three, a child my aunt Charlotte had painstakingly carried for ten months, sustained by nutrient injections. Seeing her upset, my aunt immediately became displeased. "What's wrong with you? Can't you see Daisy wants a hug?" My uncle sighed tiredly. "I'm exhausted."

Then he walked up to me, squatting down for the first time to meet my gaze. "Did your mother often abuse you?"

I shook my head, seriously. "My mother was very good to me. Her injuries were even worse than mine."

My uncle froze, a genuine flicker of panic crossing his face. "How could that be? She clearly..." Then, his face became calm again, though he frowned slightly. "Are you lying again? Did your mother teach you to say that to make me pity her?"

I stared at him, remembering my mother lying in the dark, damp cellar, her face numb and desolate. Even so, whenever she mentioned my uncle, her eyes would brighten a little more than usual. My mother said her brother always excelled in school, and as an adult, he successfully started his own company, the smartest child in the family.

But my mom was wrong again! Her brother might as well have had "fool" written all over his face! Did he think I would endure beatings and injuries, leaving so many scars, just to deceive him from childhood?

Perhaps my idiot-like gaze annoyed him, for my uncle snorted coldly. He always liked to snort, as if he were terribly important. "Get in the car! I want to see what tricks she's trying to pull!" This time, he got into the same car as me. When my uncle's iron-like hand gripped my wrist and dragged me into the car, the unhealed scars on my back tore open, making me wince in pain. Only then did he remember the wounds on my back and release his grip.

"Are you missing a screw or something? You're in pain and you don't even say anything?" I bit my lip hard, too much in pain to speak.

The car drove swiftly. The journey that would have taken me half a month to walk, crossing mountains and valleys, was completed in a few days. When we reached the small village nestled in the valley, I finally saw a glimpse of home. After stopping the car, I immediately ran to the backyard. Inside the house, my father, seeing a group of people following me to the backyard, panicked completely. He lunged forward and slapped me across the face! "You little brat! Stop it right now!" Another slap was about to land, but my uncle, his face grim, blocked him. I ignored them all, relentlessly digging at the soil in the yard. Blood beads seeped from my torn fingernails, mixing with the dirt. Before long, a putrid, horrifying, foul-smelling corpse gradually revealed itself!