Parents Killed The Best Children

As the child born after my parents remarried into a blended family, everyone said I was the most well-behaved, the most obedient. The perfect cautionary example for my stepsister and stepbrother. My stepsister loved causing trouble. She once stole and sold our father's limited-edition watch to buy pretty clothes. But since he was only her stepfather, he couldn't bring himself to discipline her—so he caught me eating chips and beat me half to death instead. "Did you buy those chips? You just helped yourself without asking—that's stealing!" My stepbrother was born defiant. He spent his days holed up in internet cafés gaming, refusing to go to school. But since she was only his stepmother, my mother couldn't bring herself to scold him—so she shipped me off to the family's correctional camp for dropping one place in the midterm rankings. "If you won't take school seriously, then you can spend your whole life doing manual labor!" Later, my stepsister and stepbrother made plans to skip town the night before the family inheritance qualification exam. One ran off to meet an online boyfriend, the other to see a concert. My parents ignored my pleading. They strung me up with rope, left me dangling in midair, then locked the door behind them. The more I struggled, the tighter the ropes pulled. I stared at that locked door, and I couldn't help thinking— If there's a next life, I don't want to be the good kid anymore. The choking pain was still lodged in my throat. I snapped my eyes open—only to find myself floating in midair. Below me was the narrow bed I'd slept in for over a decade, the blankets twisted into a knot. My body lay rigid on the mattress, my face purple. Sailor's constrictor knots were cinched tight around my wrists, the loops biting deep into the flesh, dark red blood seeping through in places. I froze for a moment, instinctively reaching out to touch my own face. My hand passed through empty air. I looked down at my hands. Transparent. My heart plummeted. It finally hit me. I was dead. Dead inside those knots. My father had tied them himself. He said this kind of knot was the most secure—the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. I'd struggled with everything I had. Until my breath was squeezed away, bit by bit. Until my vision blurred. Until the world went completely silent. And now I was floating in midair, looking down at my own stiff body. There was no fear. Just a strange, hollow emptiness. The sound of a key turning came from outside. I drifted out of the room. The door opened. My parents walked in, carrying bags. Mother's brow was furrowed, still muttering under her breath. "Are we really letting those two go on their own? What if something happens? The exam is the day after tomorrow." Father changed his shoes and sighed. "What else can we do? It's precisely because of the exam that we have to go along with them. If we let them go now, they've promised they'll be back by the day after tomorrow. But if we say no and they sneak off anyway—what if they don't even come back for the exam? That would truly be ruined." I hovered in midair, an ache blooming where my heart should have been. So you'd already agreed to let them go. Then why did you tie me up? Mother glanced instinctively toward my bedroom and softened her tone slightly. "Well, if that's the case, let's untie Fiona. She must be uncomfortable by now." She was already heading toward my room when Father grabbed her arm. "Wait. Wait until the kids leave, then we'll let her out. Otherwise I'm worried they'll think we don't actually disapprove, and they'll push their luck even more. Then something else might go wrong." Mother's face lit up with understanding, and she nodded eagerly. "Right, right, right. We can't have anything else go sideways. Fiona will just have to put up with it a little longer." Father draped his arm over her shoulders, his tone light and dismissive. "It's fine. It's just a few hours tied up. She'll sleep through it and it'll be over. She's used to it—it's not like this is the first time." "I'm not used to it!" I couldn't stop myself from shouting. But no one heard me. No one could see me. I stood there like an outsider, watching my parents treat my life as a tool—a prop to intimidate their stepchildren. Mother picked up the beef and headed for the kitchen. "The beef today is really fresh. Fiona loves this—I'll give her a couple extra pieces later, help her build up her strength." I froze. So she still remembered I loved beef. Too bad I'd never taste it again. Before entering the kitchen, Mother called back to Father. "Oh—put that little cake in the fridge. Gina can take it with her when she leaves. And Marco's new jacket—cut the tags off for him." Father grunted in acknowledgment and began opening the shopping bags one by one. The first thing he pulled out was the high-end limited-edition strawberry cake my stepsister had been talking about for two weeks straight. The last time I'd had a birthday, I'd begged my mother for one. She'd said sixty-eight dollars for a tiny slice was too expensive, not worth it. Next to it sat a case of yogurt—the brand endorsed by my stepsister's idol. A streetwear bag held the limited-edition jacket my stepbrother had been wanting forever. Beside that, several limited-run figurines he'd been mentioning for weeks. A whole table full of things. All for my stepsister and stepbrother. Not a single one for me. It had always been this way, for as long as I could remember. My stepsister caused trouble—Father couldn't bring himself to scold her, so he screamed at me instead. He made her stand there and watch, said if she ever did it again, she'd end up like me. My stepbrother acted out—Mother couldn't bring herself to discipline him, so she sent me to correctional camp. Said my mind wasn't right, that he should take me as a warning. I was the only chicken in this blended family. They slaughtered me to scare the monkeys.