Not Your Bet to Make Chapter 08

Not Your Bet to Make Chapter 08

When I was older I found my grandmother’s account book. Did the math. All those years. The total they’d transferred to

her account was under five thousand dollars. Half of that,

my grandmother had begged to “borrow” for my medical treatment. Voice low. Dignity gone.

My grandmother sat by my hospital bed. Eyes red. Voice.

hoarse. Comforting me.

“Your parents work so hard out there. Don’t blame them.

Deep down they love you.”

I believed her. Never resented them.

Until I stumbled onto the truth. I had a little brother. He lived

with Mom and Dad. Big house with a garden.

They bought him limited-edition sneakers. The newest PlayStation. Sent him to the best private school.

Christmas and birthdays. Gifts stacked higher than the tree. I barely got a card.

That’s when I understood. They weren’t too busy. They just

didn’t love me.

They hadn’t planned to take responsibility for me at all. But my brother drowned. Accident. I was eight.

That’s when they remembered me. The kid left in the

countryside living with her grandmother. Brought me to the

city.

But they didn’t cherish me the way they cherished him.

They pointed fingers in my face.

“If your brother hadn’t died you’d never have this chance. You

should thank him.”

“Your grades are terrible. Nothing like him. If he were alive he’d be doing so much better than you.”

“He was so little and already knew how to make us smile. You’re a mute. Can’t say one nice thing. We never should’ve

brought you here.”

All those years living with them. I rarely felt love.

I didn’t really understand. If they didn’t love me, why have me

at all.

Doesn’t matter now. I left. From now on I live for me.

I scrolled through their messages. Sent Mom a short reply.

“Stop looking for me. I’m not coming back.”

Blocked. Deleted.

Silence. Finally.