Left to Die in the Storm: My Mother's Regret Came Too Late

Just because my little brother, Liam, tripped while we were out, my mother forced me to spend the night alone in the pouring rain in the remote forest trail.

I never expected to be targeted by a serial killer. As my life slipped away from over a dozen stab wounds, I called my mother, sobbing and begging her to save me.

But she only answered with sheer disgust. "Stop acting, Ethan! You're just doing this because you can't handle a little hardship and want attention."

"How did I give birth to a monster like you? You pushed Liam on purpose, and now youre playing the victim! I wish you were dead! Just looking at you makes me sick!"

She didn't know that I wasn't lying.

But when she finally saw my cold, mutilated corpse, she completely lost her mind.

Five minutes after my death, my soul drifted uncontrollably back to my mothers side.

Right now, she was holding Liam's hand, looking incredibly anxious. "Dont be scared, Liam. Mom is right here. Youll be fine. Lets get the doctor to examine you in a minute to make sure you didnt get hurt from that fall."

The worry and tenderness on her face were so intense they practically overflowed.

It was a side of her I had spent my entire life trying to see, but never did.

Whenever she faced me, she was always cold, her voice filled with nothing but complaints and accusations.

Liam gripped her arm tightly, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. "Mom... why did Ethan push me? Did I do something wrong?"

As he spoke, big tears welled up in his eyes. He looked incredibly pitiful.

My mother could never stand to see him cry. Every time he shed a tear, regardless of the truth, she would punish me severely.

Sure enough, the moment she heard my name, her expression twisted with rage.

"You did absolutely nothing wrong, sweetie! Its all because of your ungrateful wretch of a brother. How dare he lay a hand on his own brother!"

"I only kicked him out to the woods to spend the night as a lesson, and he actually had the audacity to call and lie about dying. That deceitful brat!"

The more she spoke, the angrier she got. Finally, she slammed her hand heavily on the table.

She was taking all her anger out on the table, treating it as if it were me.

Hearing her words, I thought I wouldn't feel anything anymore. I was dead, after all.

But a sharp, phantom pain pierced through my chest, as if a real knife had been driven deep into my heart.

It hurt so bad that my ghostly pale form trembled, almost collapsing.

My mother didn't look like she was talking about the child she carried for nine months. She looked like she was talking about her worst enemy.

My mind drifted back to the moments before my death. The moment my mother saw the scratch on Liam, she threw a massive tantrum.

She pointed a finger at me and screamed, "Why didn't you take care of Liam? Did you do this on purpose? You heartless parasite! What are you even good for? If anything happens to Liam, I swear Ill beat you to death!"

Hurts and tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to explain that Liam had tripped on his own. But before I could even open my mouth, he spoke up.

With those wide, innocent eyes, he whimpered, "Mom, don't blame Ethan. It was my fault for not listening. That's why he punished me."

I stood there, my hands and feet turning ice-cold from fear, staring at him in utter disbelief.

What followed was my mother dragging me out to the car. She drove me to a remote, deserted state park and kicked me out into the dark woods.

It was pouring rain. I was only wearing a thin t-shirt. The freezing cold turned my lips blue in minutes.

Shivering in the dark forest, I kept telling myself that the night would pass quickly. I just needed to survive until morning.

Unfortunately, a strange man stepped out of the shadows, shattering my naive hope.

After he stabbed me over a dozen times, I used the last ounce of my strength to dial my mother's number, begging her to save me.

But all I got was an impatient sneer. "Have you had enough of your little drama? A serial killer? You can lie with a straight face now, can't you? I don't have time for this. If you want to die, go die somewhere far away. Don't bother me to pick up your corpse."

She hung up on me. When I tried to call back, I realized she had blocked my number.

Despair, terror, and agonizing pain.

These emotions crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me. My hand slipped, and the phone fell into the mud.

Maybe death was a better escape for me.

I finally didn't have to live in a house filled with hatred and abuse.

That was actually nice.

Soon, only Liam and my mother were left in the spacious hospital room.

Looking around this private suitewhich my mother had pulled endless favors to getwith its cozy furniture and comfortable bed, everything screamed how much my parents pampered him.

I couldn't help but remember when I had a fever of 103 degrees. I was so delirious I could barely speak, and I begged my mother to take me to the doctor.

Fearing she would reject me, I hesitantly whispered that I would just get a quick shot and leave, and that I wouldn't waste the family's money.

In the end, she dragged me to a shady, run-down urgent care clinic. The nurse who gave me the IV was an inexperienced trainee and missed my vein four or five times, leaving my arm bruised and bloody.

Tears streamed down my face from the pain. My mother just stood there, crossing her arms with a sneer. "Stop crying. How bad can a little needle hurt? You're just a drama queen!"

"This clinic is already too good for you. If I wasn't afraid you'd die in the house and get your father and me into legal trouble, I wouldn't even have brought you here."

I wanted to explain to her that I wasn't acting, that I was genuinely in agonizing pain.

But before I could speak, her phone rang.

Liam had a stomachache at school.

My mother rushed out of the clinic immediately, not forgetting to call the city's best pediatrician on her way to book an emergency appointment for Liam.

Liam was her golden child. She wouldn't let him suffer even a scratch.

I was abandoned once again. During the next few days of my illness, I had to take the bus for hours by myself to get my treatment. No one ever asked how I was doing.

No one cared about the boy who was delirious with fever.

My parents truly didn't love me. I realized this fully as I stared at the dark bruises swelling on my arms.

Back in the present, under the warm hospital light, Liam and my mother were sharing a sweet moment, laughing together. It was a beautiful picture of a happy family.

And there I was, like a dirty sewer rat spying on someone elses happiness, hiding in the corner with a sad, envious smile.

Liam took a bite of the apple my mother had peeled for him, then asked with fake concern, "Mom, is Ethan really going to be okay? I heard him call you. Shouldn't you go check on him?"

My mother let out a cold laugh. "Liam, you're just too sweet. Your brother is perfectly fine. Hes just putting on a show. Hell stop at nothing to drag me away from you."

"I don't know who taught him to be such a liar at his age, but he actually learned to use death to threaten me. If I give in now, what's next? Will he run this household?"

Liam still looked uneasy. "But what if Ethan comes back and takes his anger out on me? Every time he..."

As if realizing he had said too much, he quickly covered his mouth, looking guilty and terrified.

But I knew it was all an act.

He just wanted to make my mother feel sorry for him.

Thinking about all the times my mother had beaten and screamed at me because of his lies, my ghostly chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.

Predictably, my mother's face flushed with fury.

"What? That little bastard dared to touch you? Don't worry, Liam. When he crawls back, I will personally beat him half to death to make it up to you!"

She meant it. Every time I displeased her even a little, she would beat me until I was covered in bruises.

Later, I learned to be obedient. I yielded to Liam in everything. But he still found ways to trip me up every few days.

I didn't understand. We were both her children. Why did she never believe me, not even once?

Was I truly worthless in her eyes?

Liam didn't actually have any serious injuries, so after resting in the hospital for a few days, he couldn't wait to be discharged.

During this time, my mother stayed by his side 24/7, catering to his every whim. Both of them completely forgot about me, who had been missing for days.

To prevent Liam from getting upset upon seeing me after his discharge, my mother took him straight to the new suburban house they had bought behind my back.

Looking at the luxurious villa and my father who was waiting anxiously at the door, I felt a world away.

No wonder my parents always used business trips as an excuse not to come home. No wonder Liam kept saying he liked "the other house."

It turned out they had another home all along. A home that didn't include me.

My father rushed forward the moment he saw Liam. "How is my boy? Are you feeling any better?"

Before Liam could say anything, my mother rolled her eyes.

"He would have been fine if it weren't for your other worthless son. He had to throw a jealous fit and make Liam suffer!"

My father, of course, looked disgusted.

"We spoiled him too much. We should kick him out permanently so he can clear his head. If he doesn't fix his rotten attitude, I'll beat him to death myself."

Those words felt like a bullet straight through my heart.

Indeed, every time they beat me, they did it with brutal force. If killing wasn't illegal, I probably would have died by their hands a long time ago.

I remembered one time when I couldn't take the abuse anymore. For the first time in my life, I yelled back:

"I told you I didn't do it! Why can't you believe me! I'm your child too!"

They only paused for a second before sneering in disgust:

"You? A worthless piece of trash like you doesn't deserve to be our child. We'd rather raise a dog than you!"

The painful memories flashed by, ending as quickly as they came.

In the blink of an eye, my parents were happily chatting in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

The dining table was filled with Liams favorite dishes.

How ironic. Not only did they not know what I liked to eat, but they didn't even care that I was severely allergic to some foods.

The difference between being loved and being hated was truly vast.

As the food in Liams bowl piled up like a small mountain, my parents showed no signs of stopping.

Liam finally blocked his bowl with a helpless laugh. "Okay, okay, that's enough, guys. You've given me too much."

But my parents ignored him, using their forks to pile even more food onto his plate until there was physically no room left.

They smiled warmly at Liam.

"Eat up, Liam. You're recovering. You're always so scared of your brother. Now that hes finally not around, the three of us can have a peaceful family dinner."

"The three of us." So, from beginning to end, I was never considered family.

What "recovery"? Liam only had a tiny scratch, yet they made such a massive scene out of it.

Meanwhile, my body was lying mutilated and rotting in a deserted ravine. Did anyone care?

Liam nodded, looking around the house with a hint of worry. "But Ethan will find out about this house sooner or later. What if he throws a tantrum? You guys work so hard, and I hate to see you stressed..."

He choked up, grabbing my mother's hand as a few tears rolled down his cheeks.

My mother's heart melted instantly. She quickly comforted him, "Don't worry, sweetie! Even if he finds out, there's nothing he can do. I'm going to transfer the deeds of both houses to your name. That parasite won't get a single penny."

Hearing this, a flash of pure excitement shot through Liam's eyes, so fast he barely managed to hide it. "Really?"

My mother smiled, patting his hand. "When has Mom ever lied to you?"

Liam was ecstatic, his filial act completely vanishing in his excitement.

I stood there, watching him, a cold sneer forming in my ghostly heart.

They ignored the son who genuinely cared for them, yet cherished the one who only saw them as ATMs.

I just wanted to leave this suffocating room.

After dinner, the family snuggled on the couch watching TV. My mother finally remembered me, whom she had abandoned in the wild.

Frowning, she opened Snapchat. It was filled with old messages I had sent her.

[Mom, its getting cold. Please dress warmly.]

[Mom, I bought you some vitamins. Remember to take them.]

[Mom, I cleaned the whole house. You don't have to worry about anything.]

But all this care and warmth was met with only one cold response from her.

[You are so annoying. Can you stop texting me? Don't you have your own life? Stop bugging me every day.]

That was our very last chat. For days, I hadn't sent her a single text.

My mother tossed her phone in front of my father, laughing mockingly.

"Look at your precious son. Quite the attitude, isn't he? Just because I scolded him a bit, he stops texting me to throw a silent tantrum. He hasn't even graduated yet, and he's already acting like this. What will happen when he grows up?"

She typed a few angry words, mocking me for being unfilial and having a big ego.

But before sending it, she deleted the draft with a look of disgust.

"He's just trying to force me to text him first. In his dreams! What a pathetic trick. Who does he think he is?"