I Wrote Don’t Hit Me On My Forehead, But I Am A Boxer

1 On the first day I returned to the wealthy Montgomery estate as their long-lost biological daughter, I wrote three words across my forehead with a black marker: DON'T HIT ME. The fake daughter, Tiffany, burst into hysterical laughter on the spot. Clad in a studded punk jacket, she made a ridiculous face at me. "I thought our long-lost sister would be some kind of tough girl, but you're just a pathetic little coward!" "Seriously, what a loser!" She chewed her bubblegum loudly, leaned over, and spat it directly into my hair. I bit my lower lip tightly, my eyes brimming with tears, but I didn't utter a single sound. My biological older brother, Brandon, sneered in satisfaction. "At least you know your place. The Montgomerys aren't people you want to mess with." My biological parents looked at me with open disgust. "Look at her, weak and useless. How does she carry an ounce of Montgomery blood? I genuinely suspect Tiffany is our real daughter." Our very first family reunion ended in cold mockery and utter disdain. After everyone left, I sat alone in the vast, freezing living room, clutching my deceased adoptive mother's framed portrait to my chest. Tears dripped onto the glass frame. "Mama... they don't seem to like Maddy very much." "But don't worry, Mama. Maddy warned them nicely. As long as they don't hit Maddy first, Maddy won't hit them back. Maddy is the sweetest boxer in the world." … I wept over Mama's portrait for a long time before gently placing it back into my backpack. Inside the bag was an insulated stainless steel thermos that Mama had prepared for me before she passed away. It was packed with warm, soft-boiled eggs, my absolute favorite. I unscrewed the lid, feeling the gentle heat radiating from inside. Taking one out, I carefully rolled the warm egg over my swollen eyes. Back at the underground fighting ring, I used to see injured boxers soothe their bruises like this. Sure enough, the swelling around my eyes subsided quickly. Afraid the eggs would get cold, I hurriedly placed it back inside. I couldn't bring myself to eat even a single one. As I sat there cradling the thermos, Tiffany walked down the grand staircase, puffing on a thin cigarette. The moment I saw her, my eyes lit up with genuine hope. "Sister!" I rushed over, holding up the thermos and opening the lid right in front of her face. I forced the sweetest, brightest smile I could muster. "Sister, have an egg!" I beamed at her. "My mama, I mean, my adoptive mother, boiled these for me before I came here. They're soft-boiled!" "Maddy loves soft-boiled eggs the most. I know you'll love them too!" Mama always told me that good things must be shared with family. I remembered every single word she taught me. If I shared my very best thing with my sister, she would treat me like real family, right? Yet, just as I looked up at her with big, expectant eyes, Tiffany raised her hand and slapped the thermos away. "Get lost, freak!" The stainless steel thermos tumbled down the marble stairs, shattering into pieces. My heart felt as if it shattered right alongside it. The soft-boiled eggs bounced down the steps, their warm yolks breaking and spilling everywhere. "Maddy's eggs!" I scrambled down the stairs like a madwoman, picking up the ruined eggs. Sharp metal fragments from the thermos sliced into my fingers, but I didn't even feel the pain. Tiffany put out her cigarette butt, casually flicking the hot ash right onto my broken eggs. "Are you mentally deficient?" "What disgusting garbage. Dogs wouldn't even eat this trash!" She walked past me, her sharp high heels stepping directly onto the egg yolks, stomping them into a muddy, unrecognizable mess. I couldn't hold back my emotions any longer. Tears flooded my vision. Before walking away, she glared down at me with venom. "And stop playing dumb in front of me. You think acting cute makes Mom and Dad like you and hate me?" I shook my head frantically, trying to explain that I had no such intentions. Tiffany didn't buy a word. She let out a cold, sinister laugh. "Then prove it to me." She pointed her long nails at the blackened, stomped egg yolk on the floor. "Kneel down and eat every bite off the floor. Then I'll believe you." I froze. "Sister... the eggs are dirty..." I whispered timidly. Tiffany's face twisted in rage. She raised her palm to strike me, but right before the slap landed, my biological brother Brandon appeared and caught her wrist. "Tiffany! What are you doing?!" He paused, glancing at Tiffany's shocked expression. Then he turned to me, walking over with a smooth, gentle smile as he patted my head. "Silly girl, these eggs were left for you by your adoptive mother, weren't they?" I nodded vigorously. His smile widened, turning far more twisted than Tiffany's. "Then you must eat them all. Otherwise, your dead mother up in heaven will be very angry with you." My heart skipped a terrifying beat. Without a second thought, I reached down, scooped up the dirty, ash-covered egg yolk from the floor, and shoved it into my mouth. "Mama, don't be mad... please don't be mad..." "Maddy didn't mean to hurt Mama's feelings..." As I chewed the bitter, dirty egg, tears streamed down my face in heavy rivers. Mama, you lied to me. You said they would treat me like family. But they hate me so much. 2 My brain had never worked quite right. Doctors told my adoptive mother that a childhood brain injury had permanently arrested my mental development. Intellectually, I would remain five years old forever. Fortunately, nature gave me extraordinary physical gifts. Though I looked slender and frail, I possessed terrifying, explosive physical strength. When my adoptive mother fell gravely ill from kidney failure, she couldn't afford dialysis on her meager income from collecting recyclable trash. To raise money for her treatments, I entered the underground bare-knuckle boxing circuit. One victory paid a thousand dollars, exactly enough for one dialysis session. On my very first day in the ring, I lacked technique and suffered three broken ribs. I didn't cry. During my second fight, I lost again, my lower jaw dislocated by a heavy hook. I still didn't cry. My third fight, my fourth fight, defeat after defeat. My body was covered in severe fractures and dark bruises, yet I stood back up on that canvas every single time, battered and bleeding, without shedding a single tear. I had to earn money. I had to save my mama. It wasn't until my fifth match, when my opponent locked me in a brutal chokehold that nearly knocked me unconscious, that a spectator shouted from the crowd that the hospital was calling for payment and my mother was dying. In that precise moment, I burst into tears. I bit my lip so hard it bled, forcing my muscles past their physical limits. My joints popped and cracked as I tore through my opponent's lock. The moment I broke free, I swung my fists blindly through my tears. That night, weeping uncontrollably, I beat every fighter in that arena until they cried. When I dragged my blood-soaked body into the hospital, the doctors had stabilized Mama, but the ongoing medical fees remained a bottomless pit. So, I became a full-time underground cage fighter. I evolved from a terrified rookie into an undisputed, terrifying queen of the ring who defeated massive opponents purely through brutal muscle memory. I never ran out of cash again. Yet, a month later, even when I slammed stacks of hundred-dollar bills onto the chief doctor's desk and fell to my knees begging him, money could no longer save Mama. On her final day, she told me she hated the smell of the hospital and wanted to go home. I carried her on my back, walking miles down the road. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she whispered that she had boiled soft-boiled eggs for me in her thermos, my favorite treat. She apologized, saying she should never have picked me out of that trash dump years ago, forcing me to suffer a hard life with her. She told me that the wealthy Montgomery family had finally found me. Her dying wish was for me to return to my biological family and live a happy, comfortable life. She told me to be sincere, to work hard to fit into my new home. I remembered every single word she said. But was the Montgomery house really my home? On my second morning at the estate, laughter echoed constantly across the breakfast table between Tiffany and Brandon. I kept my head down, shoveling food into my mouth, pretending I didn't hear them making fun of me. "Dad, Mom, ever since Maddy came back, you haven't assigned her a bedroom yet," Tiffany said, giving our parents a meaningful look. My biological father didn't even bother raising his eyes from his newspaper. Finally, my biological mother, Victoria, chimed in indifferently, "Whatever. She's a brain-damaged dummy. Does it matter where she sleeps?" I buried my face deeper into my bowl, gripping my fork tightly, saying nothing. Mama had told me that her biggest wish was for Maddy to be happy in her new home. So, I pretended to be deaf and kept eating. The atmosphere at the table grew suffocatingly cold, punctuated only by Tiffany's sharp, ringing laughter. "How about we put her in the guest bathroom?" Tiffany suggested brightly. "She grew up living in a literal garbage dump anyway. Our guest bathroom is practically a palace compared to her old home!" Brandon immediately chimed in with a laugh. "Great idea! Her brain is full of garbage anyway. Maybe she'll get flushed down the toilet one day!" The siblings burst into loud laughter. My biological parents' faces darkened instantly. My father slammed his fork onto the table. "We're eating breakfast! What are you talking about?!" He glared at me with deep disgust. "Disgusting. I lost my appetite." My biological mother pushed her plate away, muttering aloud without the slightest hesitation, "I knew the moment she was born that she was defective. That's why I tossed her in the trash dump and brought our sweet Tiffany home instead." "I thought I was rid of that useless girl forever, but that homeless trash lady actually dragged her back right before dying. What a nuisance." "She even fell to her knees begging me, saying she was dying and afraid no one would take care of the dummy. She threatened to call the news media if I didn't take her back. Absolute psychos, the both of them." My hands stopped moving. So... I was abandoned at birth? Mama had begged them on her knees just so I could have a place to live? Tears dripped into my food bowl. I don't even remember how I was dragged across the floor and thrown into the dark guest bathroom. When the heavy door slammed shut and locked from the outside, the entire world fell silent, leaving only me and my backpack. I pulled out Mama's framed portrait from my bag and cried like a pathetic child. "Mama... why were you so foolish?" "Mama, I miss you so much." "Is this really my home? Are these people really my family?" 3 I spent the entire night curled up on the cold bathroom tile, cradling Mama's portrait in my arms. Suddenly, a bucket of ice-cold water slammed through the doorway. The freezing water drenched me from head to toe. I gasped, jerking awake, only to see Tiffany leaning against the doorframe, smirking down at me. "Time to wake up, trash lady's daughter!" She insulted Mama the second she opened her mouth. My fists clenched tight, then slowly uncurled. Mama told me never to hit family members, no matter how hurt I felt. Maddy wanted to be an obedient girl. "My mama wasn't a trash lady," I replied in a quiet, trembling voice. The smirk on Tiffany's face instantly vanished. She called for Brandon. With a heavy kick, Brandon busted open the locked bathroom door. The moment they walked in, they saw me holding Mama's portrait tight against my chest. Brandon crossed his arms, his face twisted in disgust. "What kind of creepy trash is that?" Tiffany initially hid behind Brandon's back out of instinct, but hearing Brandon's words, she let out a loud laugh. "You're so right, Brandon! It really is creepy trash! Hahaha!" My fists hardened again. "Stop calling my mama creepy trash!" I glared at them, my voice raised several decibels. "Your trash mother is a ghost now! She's dead and rotting!" Tiffany screamed back viciously. Before I could react, she lunged forward and ripped Mama's portrait right out of my hands. "Give it back to me!" I yelled. Tiffany pulled a thick permanent marker from her pocket and began scribbling directly over Mama's face. "Make me! What are you gonna do about it, dummy?" Brandon stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the show with an amused smile. "Be careful, Tiffany. She's not just dumb, she might be crazy too." Tiffany scoffed, holding up her artwork to show me. She had drawn a mustache over Mama's lip and a crude turtle across her cheek. I reached my breaking point. I lunged forward and grabbed Tiffany hard by her collar! "Give it back!" My entire body shook with violent rage. Yet Mama's final words echoed inside my mind: Never hit your family! I forced myself to hold back! Tiffany panicked, terror flashing through her eyes as her voice trembled. "Dad! Mom! Maddy is going to beat me up!" I instinctively let go of her collar, but it was already too late. My biological parents had rushed down the hallway. Tiffany threw herself into their arms, weeping tears of fake terror. "Dad, Mom, Maddy is insane! I just made a little joke with her picture, and she tried to murder me!" Brandon chimed in from the side. "Tiffany was just putting a little makeup on that trash lady's face. Maddy has only been home for two days, and her temper is already out of control." I looked helplessly at my biological parents. Their faces remained cold and disappointed. My father waved his hand impatiently. "It's just a harmless joke! The drawing looks fine. You should thank Tiffany for beautifying the frame, why are you trying to hit her?" My biological mother waved her hand in utter disgust. "Take that hideously ugly picture away! It's creeping me out!" "Throw it in the trash!" "Quick, throw it away! Don't let me see it again! It's bringing terrible luck to our home!" Uncertain of how to dispose of the frame, Tiffany looked around the bathroom. With a cruel laugh, she tossed Mama's portrait straight into the open toilet bowl! Dirty water splashed over Mama's face, making it look as though she was crying. Tiffany burst into laughter. "Hey, look at that! The toilet is the perfect washing machine for her face!" "I really am a genius!" Brandon and my biological parents nodded in total approval. "Tiffany is right. That's our smart daughter." "Close the toilet lid. We'll have the maid scrub it later." "Don't let that trash dirty our toilet." They discussed the matter casually, completely ignoring the fact that I had already reached into the toilet bowl and pulled Mama's portrait out. Looking at Mama's stained, dirty face, my hand trembled as I carefully wiped the water away. "Mama, I'm sorry." "Maddy is going to be a bad girl today." "I promised I would never hit family members... but Mama forgot that long, long ago, Maddy swore a solemn oath to protect Mama no matter what." I cracked my knuckles, flexing my iron wrists. "And besides, Maddy only promised never to hit family." "You monsters are NOT my family."