I Was the Child They Never Loved

My parents have never known how to take care of anyone. Growing up, every time I get sick, they just send me money and tell me to go buy medicine myself. One time, my appendicitis flares up, and the doctor says it's best to have a family member present for the surgery. I grip my phone, going back and forth in my head, before I finally call my mom. "Mom, can you come to the hospital and stay with me?" She agrees right away on the phone, but by the time my surgery is over, she still hasn't shown up. The only thing keeping me company is a 200-dollar transfer sitting on my screen. I lie in the hospital bed and tell myself that maybe this is just how my family is. We don't know how to show we care. Someone gets sick, money gets sent, medicine gets bought, and everyone moves on. Then, my sister's exams end, and I happen to be home for a few days that summer when she comes down with a fever. Out of habit, I look over at my mom, expecting her to send my sister 200 dollars. But instead, my mom panics, immediately calls out of work, and insists on taking my sister to the hospital herself. My voice comes out hoarse. "Isn't the deal just to send money and let her buy medicine herself?" My brother glares at me. "How can you be so cold-hearted? People are at their most vulnerable when they're sick. They need family by their side." My dad nods along, and the words "I've always gone to the hospital alone" die in my throat before I can say them. I don't argue. I don't make a scene. I just feel an overwhelming sense of relief that my college is a thousand miles away from all of them. Chapter 1 My sister, Hannah Hayward, only mentioned that she had a bit of a fever, and the whole family sprang into action. Dad grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. "I'll get the car. We're going to the hospital right now." My brother, Drew Hayward, pulled out his phone to look up nearby hospitals. "I'll register at the ER so we don't have to wait in line when we get there." Hannah stood in the middle of all of them with a sheepish little smile. "It's just a mild fever. You really don't have to make such a big deal out of it." Mom had already pulled a jacket out of the closet and draped it over Hannah's shoulders herself, her voice impossibly soft. "Sweetheart, a fever is nothing to mess around with. If you keep putting it off, it could do real damage." Drew jumped in. "Come on, just let us take you. We'll all feel better once a doctor checks you out." I stood off to the side, like I was watching through a pane of glass. So, they knew all along that fevers necessitated the hospital, that someone sick needed to be registered ahead of time, and that they needed family around them. It was just that none of that care had ever been directed at me. From elementary school through high school, I was always made to board on campus. Once I got to college, I spent most of my time holed up in the lab doing research. If it weren't for Hannah finishing her exams and my parents telling me to come home and celebrate with her, I wouldn't have been staying here for more than a few days. But they were my parents too, and Drew was also my brother. My throat was still sore. The night before, I had come down with a fever myself. I texted Mom and told her I wasn't feeling well, and all she wrote back was, "Drink some water and go pick up some medicine yourself." I stared at that message for a long time before I finally went out alone to get medicine. The wind on the way back was brutal, and by the time I got home, my head was spinning. But now, Hannah had barely furrowed her brows, and they were all acting like the sky was falling. Mom took Hannah's hand and walked her toward the door. Just before they stepped out, Hannah stopped and tilted her face up. "Since I'm being so brave about going to the hospital, don't I deserve a reward?" Mom laughed right away. "Of course you do." Hannah beamed, her voice full of the easy confidence that came with being the favorite. "Then, I want a Polaroid camera." Mom scolded her for always sneaking in requests at moments like this, but the smile in her eyes gave her away. I stood there as something twisted in my chest. Our family did have a reward system. Chapter 2 The year Drew got into college, Dad rewarded him with a brand-new laptop. When Hannah placed first in her grade in elementary school, Mom took her to an amusement park and bought her an expensive dress. I had won things too, back then. I placed second in an essay competition, got top marks on my piano exam, and finished in the top ten in my whole school on my entrance exams. But no matter what I brought home, all my parents ever did was nod and say, "Not bad," or "Don't let it go to your head." I always thought it meant I wasn't good enough yet, that I had to come in first, had to be the best, before I deserved even a word of praise. But now, I understood. Hannah could earn a reward just by going to the hospital. She didn't need to beat anyone or prove anything. All she had to do was say she felt bad, and everyone rushed to comfort her. It wasn't that I wasn't good enough. I just wasn't loved enough. The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water. I didn't want to watch anymore. Every second I stood there felt like ripping apart every lie I had ever told myself to feel better. I turned to go back to my room, but I barely made it two steps before Mom called after me. "Claire, don't just sit around while you're home. Make your sister some soup and brew her some calming tea. She won't have much of an appetite when she gets back, so keep it light." She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, not a request but an expectation. I looked at her, my throat dry and raw from my own fever. For some reason, I didn't want to just nod and go along with it the way I always had. "I don't feel well either. I don't want to." Mom froze, like she hadn't expected me to say no. Her brows furrowed. "What's wrong with you now?" That one word "now" hit me right in the chest. I hardly ever asked them for anything, but the moment I said I wasn't feeling well, they acted like I was being dramatic. I clenched my fists and forced myself to speak. "I had a fever yesterday too. I texted you about it, and you told me to go buy medicine myself. So why is it that when it's Hannah, all of you have to take her to the hospital?" The living room went dead quiet. Drew was the first to react, his expression darkening. "Claire, do you really have to throw a tantrum right now? Hannah has a fever, and you're standing here keeping score?" Mom's face hardened. "I asked you to make soup, not move mountains. You're her older sister. What's wrong with looking after her?" I stared at her, my chest so tight it hurt. There it was again, the sister card. My whole life, whenever Hannah wanted something, they told me I was the older sister and I should give in. Whenever I felt hurt, they told me I was the older sister and I should be the bigger person. But when I was sick, did any of them stop to think that I was their daughter too, that I was Drew's little sister? My voice came out hoarse. "So when I was sick, who was there for me?" Mom's lips parted like she was about to lecture me, but Drew spoke first. "Alright, we didn't pay attention this time. Next time you're sick, we'll take you to the hospital too. Happy now?" Every word out of his mouth had that placating tone people use on someone being unreasonable. "Hannah still has a fever, so stop making this harder than it needs to be. Just get the soup started and brew some tea. That way, it'll be ready for her by the time we're back." Then, he turned to Mom. "Let's go. Dad's waiting downstairs. We don't want to hold up Hannah's appointment." Mom glanced at me one last time. There was no sympathy in that look, only blame. They ushered Hannah out the door, and the moment it shut behind them, the apartment went completely still. I stood alone in the living room, and the cold settled in all at once. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Drew. "Don't forget the soup." "And stop starting things. This family doesn't need your drama." I stared at the screen for a long time. Chapter 3 I ended up in the kitchen anyway. I set a pot of soup on the stove and turned on the burner. I stood there watching it heat up, the steam stinging my eyes until they burned, and I thought about my junior year of high school. My stomach had cramped so badly I couldn't stand up straight. I called Mom, and she told me to stop being dramatic. She said if I just toughed it out, it would pass. I went to the school nurse by myself, and when the nurse asked where my parents were, I told her they were busy. They weren't busy. They just didn't want to come. The soup slowly filled the kitchen with a warm smell. The kettle was on beside it, heating water for tea. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe and pulled out my phone to check the time, but the first thing I saw was Mom's latest post on her feed. The photo was taken in the hospital hallway. Hannah was leaning against Drew's shoulder with a cooling strip on her forehead. Mom had captioned it, "When your baby gets sick, a mother's heart just aches." Dad had liked it. My finger hovered on the screen. Before I could back out, I scrolled down and saw that Drew had posted something new too. It was a photo of a store display case showing the newest Polaroid model, with a neatly wrapped gift box sitting next to it. His caption read, "A get-well present for the kid, plus a belated graduation gift." I stared at the words "graduation gift" for a long time. Hannah had taken her exams this year, and her scores were barely enough to get accepted. But the day the results came back, the whole family celebrated like it was a holiday. Mom said she had tried her best. Dad said getting in was all that mattered and they shouldn't put pressure on her. Drew even ordered a cake. But two years ago, when I got into my school in Alderton, I had scored high enough to get into any school I wanted. There was no cake that night and no gift. Mom just said, "Good, you got in." Dad said, "It's far, but that's fine. Just don't pick somewhere too expensive." Drew was even more blunt. "Just come back for the holidays. No point wearing yourself out on the road." I had told myself at the time that they just weren't good at expressing it. But now, every single photo on their feeds was telling me otherwise. They knew how to express it. They knew how to celebrate, how to worry, and how to treat someone's minor illness like the end of the world. It was just that someone was never me. A sudden hissing sound snapped me back. The pot was boiling over. I dropped my phone and scrambled to turn off the stove, and the scalding soup splashed onto the back of my hand. I sucked in a sharp breath. I looked down at the patch of skin already turning red and almost laughed. They wanted me to make soup for my sister, and it didn't cross anyone's mind that the person making it still had a fever of her own. Right then, my phone buzzed again. It was a message from my advisor. "Claire, the research group schedule got moved up. If it works for you, report back to Alderton tomorrow." I stared at those two lines, and something clicked into place. I didn't want to wait until the semester started. I wanted to leave now. I didn't want to stay in this house a single day longer, watching them remind me over and over again how little I mattered here. I turned off the kettle and went to my room to pack. I didn't have many clothes, so it didn't take long. Then, I pulled open the drawer where I kept my savings, the money I had been putting away little by little since high school. All of it came from scholarship stipends, part-time job earnings, and holiday cash from relatives—1,300 dollars in total. I had never touched it. That money was my ticket back to school and my living expenses, and more than that, it was my way out. But the moment I opened the drawer, I froze. It was empty. I tore through every book and every pocket in that drawer, and there was nothing. My hands started to shake. Before I could even begin to process it, the front door opened. Mom, Dad, and Drew walked in with Hannah, and the second she stepped through the door, she held up a brand-new Polaroid camera right in my face. "Do you like it, Claire?" Chapter 4 "Drew bought it for me," Hannah said. Then, she pulled a stack of cash out of her bag and told me with a beaming smile, "Mom also gave me 1,300 dollars as a reward for being so brave about my shot today." The number—1,300 dollars—drove into me like a nail. I looked up and stared hard at Mom. "Did you take the money in my drawer?" The living room went dead quiet. The smile on Mom's face stiffened for a second, and she instinctively looked away from me. At that moment, I already knew the answer. My drawer had always been locked, and nobody knew where I kept the key except her. She was the only one who could have taken it. I didn't look away. "Did you take it?" Mom reacted like I had hit a nerve, her voice going sharp. "Look at you, Claire, all grown up now. Your family just walked in the door, and the first thing you do is interrogate your own mother like she's some kind of thief?" She didn't explain where the money came from. She just doubled down on me being difficult. Hannah's eyes turned red right away. "Do you just hate seeing me happy? I got sick, and Mom felt bad for me, so she gave me a reward. How does that make it your money? If you wanted a reward, you could have just asked. Why would you accuse Mom like that?" Drew stepped in front of her immediately, his face dark. "Claire, do you have to be this petty? Hannah just got back from the hospital, and you're making her cry over money? Can you act like an older sister for once?" Dad spoke up with a cold expression, "Your money? You eat under this roof, you sleep under this roof, and you're already keeping tabs? Forget whether your mother even took it. Even if she did, she spent it on your sister. What's the problem?" My hands were shaking with anger, but I forced the words out through clenched teeth. "Give me my money back. That's my bus fare back to Alderton and my living expenses." They hadn't given me a single dollar since I started college. Every bit of that 1,300 dollars was money I had saved on my own. I stepped forward to grab the stack of cash. Hannah burst into tears, and Drew smacked my hand away. "Enough! You're making a scene like this over a little money? Do you have no shame?" The back of my hand was already burned from the soup. When he hit it, the pain flashed so hard that my vision went black. But Mom's only concern was pulling Hannah into her arms. "Don't be scared, sweetie. I'm right here." I stood there and watched all of them huddle around Hannah to comfort her. I was the one who had been robbed and the one who was hurt, and somehow, I had ended up as the villain. After that day, I locked myself in my bedroom and stopped talking and eating. When the glass of water on my nightstand ran empty, I didn't even bother to refill it. And they went on as though I didn't exist. The only acknowledgment I got was Mom yelling through my door a couple of times. "That temper of yours keeps getting worse! Who's going to put up with that? When you get hungry enough, you'll come out and apologize." I didn't bother answering and just buried my face in my pillow. My fever still hadn't fully broken, and I was drifting in and out of a haze. On the third day, my door opened. I looked up, and it was Dad. He was holding a brown paper envelope with money inside, and my eyes welled up the moment I saw it. For one ridiculous second, I felt something like hope. I thought that maybe Dad had finally realized how unfairly I had been treated, that maybe he was here to give me my money back. After all, before Hannah was born, he used to love me too. When I fell, he would scoop me up. When I came home with a first-place grade, he would put me on his shoulders and carry me to the candy store. Back then, Hannah hadn't come along yet, and I was the one he adored. Dad walked up to me, set the envelope on the desk, and spoke in a low, heavy voice, "There's 1,300 dollars in here." Chapter 5 I stared at the envelope, my throat tight. "So you're admitting the money was mine?" Dad frowned. "Now's not the time for that. I'll give you the money, but you need to go out there and apologize to your mother and Hannah." I froze. The faint trace of warmth I had just felt turned ice cold in an instant. "I'm the one who has to apologize?" My question only made his expression worse. "Who else? This whole mess is because of you. Your mother hasn't been able to eat for days because of how upset she is, and Hannah keeps crying and saying she never should have accepted the reward. "Would it kill you to make this easy? Just go out there, say something nice, and apologize, and we can all move on." My fingers went numb from how hard I was clenching them. "It was my money that was taken. Why should I be the one apologizing?" Dad let out a sigh and looked at me like I was the biggest disappointment of his life. "Claire, what happened to you? What matters more, money or this family being happy? "Your mother only took the money to cheer Hannah up. Hannah had just come home from the hospital. She was already in a fragile state, and you blew up in front of everyone. How do you think that made her feel?" A laugh escaped me before I could stop it, and somewhere in the middle of laughing, the tears started falling. "What about me? Did any of you stop to wonder if something might happen to me locked in my room for days without eating or drinking? Did any of you think about what it felt like to have the money I worked so hard to save taken from me?" Dad looked away, but his voice only got harder. "Stop acting like you're the victim here. Everyone in this family deals with things. But the second you throw a fit, your mother's upset, Hannah's scared, your brother's angry, and a perfectly fine household gets turned upside down." Hearing that, I finally understood. He wasn't here to make things right or because he felt bad for me. He was holding my own money hostage to make me bow my head, and on top of that, I was supposed to be grateful and apologize. I took a deep breath and reached for the envelope. Dad's expression softened slightly, thinking I had finally given in. "That's more like it. Go say something nice to your mother and apologize to Hannah, and this whole thing is over." Before he could finish, I grabbed the envelope and threw it out of the room. "Take the money. I'm never apologizing." Dad's face went dark. He opened his mouth several times but couldn't find words. In the end, he just slammed the door behind him and left. The room went quiet again. I lay on my bed and let the tears roll down in silence. Then, my phone screen lit up. It was a notification from my bank that 800 dollars had been deposited. It was my scholarship money. I stared at the number, and something sparked back to life. With that money, I could leave without waiting another day or apologizing to anyone. I didn't hesitate. I booked the next bus to Alderton, grabbed the suitcase I had already packed, and walked out of the house I had lived in for nearly 20 years. … That evening, Mom, Dad, and Drew came home from shopping with Hannah. Hannah was holding an armful of new things and asked quietly, "Mom, Claire hasn't come out of her room in three days. Do you think something's wrong?" Mom's expression flickered, but she walked to my bedroom door and knocked twice. "Claire, that's enough. How long are you planning to keep this up?" There was no answer. Her patience ran out immediately. She pushed the door open, and the next second, she froze in the doorway and spun around, shouting.