I was being bullied. My bullies threatened to come to my house. I begged them not to. Because they didn't know that I am the only normal person in my family. My father is a serial killer. My mother is a psychopath. My brother is a sociopath. And me? I'm just a delicate, innocent little flower. 01 I returned home with a heavy heart. My father opened the door. He was wearing an apron, smiling gently. "Hungry? Dad made you some snacks." The smile on his face deepened. But I felt a chill run down my spine. Dad's apron was splattered with mottled bloodstains. Fresh blood. Clearly, it had just sprayed onto him. Dad followed my horrified gaze downwards, then laughed: "Ah... accidentally got the apron dirty again. Your mom is going to scold me later." Trembling, I took off my shoes and walked inside. Tied to a chair was a young woman. Her hair was messy, her face covered in blood and grime, and her lips were sewn together with thread. Seeing me enter, she made excited whimpering sounds, casting a pleading look my way. I shuddered and looked away. "This lady left her five-year-old daughter outside while she went fooling around with men. "That poor child was crushed by a car into a bloody mess. Imagine how painful her last moments were?" Dad said softly. I sat stiffly on the sofa, not daring to look in that direction. Soon, shrill screams rang out. The woman's agonized screams lasted for over ten minutes before gradually fading. Dad took off his glasses, wiped the blood from the lenses, and smiled at me: "Lily, Dad is going to chop this lady into pieces now. It might be a bit unappetizing, so go to your room." With permission, I ran to my room as fast as I could. Behind me, I heard Dad sigh. I heard him mutter, "Why is this child's personality nothing like ours?" At this moment, my legs were weak and trembling. I was covered in cold sweat. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Dad kill someone. The first time was when I was five. Dad slit a man's throat right in front of my terrified eyes. He said the man had abused his wife for years, driving her to jump off a building. But the man received no punishment. So, Dad decided to punish him personally. I took a deep breath, finally managing to calm down. But what made me most nervous was tomorrow night. The group who bullied me everyday was coming to my house. Just thinking of their faces made my stomach cramp in pain. I had begged them many times not to come. But they grabbed my hair, slapped me a few times, and laughed, saying they wanted to see what kind of family raised a bug like me. But they had no idea... no one who entered my house ever came out alive. 02 There was a knock on the door. I opened it to find my mother standing there. Mom had a very innocent, beautiful face, but only I knew how terrifying she was. Mom smiled and stared at me: "Take off your clothes." "Mom..." I looked at her pleadingly. But I still tremblingly took off my clothes, revealing a body covered in bruises and scars. "Who did this? Hmm?" Mom's smile deepened. But only I knew that Mom was very angry right now. When she got angry, she liked to do terrible things. When I was five, a boy in kindergarten pulled out a handful of my hair. The next day, that boy went missing. The news said he accidentally fell from a building and died. But only I knew about the lollipop clutched in the boy's hand when he died. It was the brand Mom liked to buy for me. In elementary school, a female teacher thought I was poor and often mocked me. Even though my desk mate and I shared cleaning duties, she always assigned the dirtiest, most tiring tasks to me. Watching me slip and fall in the bathroom while carrying a heavy bucket of water, the teacher laughed loudly. I didn't dare tell my family. Although I hated that teacher, I didn't want my family to do bad things. But Mom, being sharp, found out anyway. Not long after, I saw the news of that teacher's death. She was tortured to death by several thugs on her way home at night. Her arms and legs were broken while she was alive. When I saw the photos of those thugs, my blood froze. Because I had clearly seen Mom chatting and laughing with them near our house. 03 Mom's cold fingers touched my wounds. My thoughts were pulled back, and I shivered violently. Mom sighed softly: "Sometimes I really doubt if you are my child." I looked at her face, silent. Because I knew, I really wasn't their biological child. 04 I had been soft-hearted and prone to tears since I was little. I remember when I was young, my cat accidentally ran out when I opened the door. When we found it, it had been tortured to the brink of death by someone. One of the cat's legs was sawed off, and an eye had been gouged out. I cried until I couldn't breathe. My brother couldn't stand it. He looked at me coldly and said: "You don't want it to continue suffering, right?" I nodded tearfully. The next second, I saw my brother snap the kitten's neck. The sound of bones breaking was clear. But I clearly remember the corners of my brother's mouth turning up slightly. Later, Dad checked the surveillance footage and saw that the cat was tortured by two boys in the same neighborhood. We found the parents of those two boys. They said lightly: "It's just a stray cat, isn't it? We'll pay you whatever it costs." "Call the police? Don't be ridiculous, our kids are only fourteen. And honestly, you let the cat run out. I haven't even complained about your cat scaring my kids yet..." One boy peeked out from behind his mother, smiling arrogantly and maliciously: "Mom, that cat scratched us first!" "Did you hear that? I haven't asked you for money yet, and you come looking for us first. Who knows if your cat has rabies?" The woman sneered. I was so angry that tears fell: "I saw on the video that they deliberately stepped on Mimi's tail, that's why Mimi scratched them!" The boy said without any guilt: "Who said I did it on purpose? It was an accident! Cats that scratch people deserve to die!" I rushed up to argue with him but was pushed to the ground by the boy's mother. My brother helped me up and said lightly: "True, animals that scratch people should be killed..." There was an extreme coldness in his tone. Mom and Dad didn't speak, just smiled at the woman and her children. The woman seemed to have never encountered parents like mine. She stopped arguing, her expression unchanging. She chased us away guiltily. A few nights later, I woke up crying and went to the kitchen for water. The front door opened. I saw my brother walk in. In the dark, his face was obscured. I smelled a faint scent of blood. There was a glaring crimson stain on my brother's jacket. "Brother... what did you do..." I asked tremblingly. Although I already had a terrifying suspicion in my heart. He grinned: "Brother went to deal with some animals that scratch people." The next day, many police officers came to our neighborhood. It turned out those two boys were disemboweled alive last night, their intestines spilling all over the floor. This is my family. They seem to spoil me, love me, but they make me... Feel terrified.
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