I watched her, envious, as she fed her
daughter bite by bite. My reflection in the
window looked small and lonely.
“They are,” I said, a little too loudly, trying to
convince myself, trying to convince the world.
“They love me very much.‘
The door burst open. Mom and Dad rushed in.
A wave of relief washed over me. I struggled
to sit up, tears streaming down my face.
“Mom…Dad…” I was so scared. So close to
dying. I just wanted them to hold me. Just for
a second.
Mom grabbed my shirt and threw me to the
floor. The IV ripped out of my arm, spraying
blood “You little bitchl Faking an allergic
L
reaction! Faking a suicide attempt! Trying to
make us look bad?! Why don’t you just die for
real?!”
I curled up, protecting my head as she kicked
me, I wasn’t trying
o make them look bad. I
just…didn’t want to die.
I’d survived the fall, but I hadn’t survived their hatred. I saw Dad’s reflection in the window,
standing against the wall, watching impassively as Mom dug her nails into my skin. I saw the woman in the next bed
comforting her frightened daughter. I saw the nurses and doctors staring, their expressions a mix of pity and disdain. I was the villain in
this story.
L
The fragile illusion I’d built, that they loved
me…shattered. I’d been lying. They didn’t love
- me. They never had.
