After being diagnosed with hemophilia, I became the family's "Glass Princess." The doctor said I wouldn't live past five. So Mom and Dad put me first in everything, even spending all their savings to treat me. Until my fifth birthday, there was rare laughter in the house. Only my little sister asked innocently: "Sissy, will you die tomorrow?" That was the first time Dad hit her. And Mom knelt beside her, praying desperately, begging God to keep me for a few more years. But on the day my sister started kindergarten, I just said my chest hurt a little. Mom suddenly broke down crying and slapped me: "Why are you so disgusting? Will you only be satisfied if you drive your sister to death?" "We revolve around you every day, can't we even send your sister to school?" "If you want to die, just die! Stop torturing us!" She threw all the medicine at me, grabbed my sister's hand, and slammed the door. I didn't speak, just watched the continuously bleeding wound, my body getting colder and colder. ... When the medicine bottle shattered, I happened to raise my hand to block it. I stared at the wound for two seconds before remembering what the doctor said: "Child, you absolutely cannot have any wounds on your body, or the bleeding won't stop." I hurriedly found a band-aid and put it on. But it was soaked through in less than half a minute. I turned to get a bandage, but blood dripped all over the floor. Mom loves cleanliness the most; I can't cause her any more trouble. I panicked and tore my sleeve to wipe it. But the blood on the floor seemed to explode, smearing more as I wiped. I grabbed a towel and wrapped the wound. My body started to get cold, from fingertips to bone marrow. I walked into the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. Lying in it, I felt a little relief. Blood was still flowing, dyeing the water red. I suddenly missed Mom and Dad very much, dialing Dad's number with my smartwatch. It rang for a long time, no one answered. I called Mom again. It was very noisy over there. Music, children laughing. Lively as if in a different world from me. "Speak quickly if you have something, it's your sister's turn to perform soon." "Mom, I don't feel well, I'm bleeding..." An impatient voice came through the phone: "Uncomfortable again?" "Are you uncomfortable as long as we don't revolve around you?" "Clementine, you are eight years old, a big girl now, can you be more sensible?" Next second, the busy tone sounded in the empty bathroom. I looked at the tub of water slowly turning red, suddenly wanting to cry. Mom was right, I seem to always cause trouble for people. Being sick is trouble, being in a bad mood is trouble, now bleeding is also trouble. Mom's cardigan was draped on the edge of the tub. I gently covered my face with the clothes, which still had the familiar scent of jasmine. It felt like going back to childhood, she guarded me like this when I had a fever. The water slowly cooled. The bleeding seemed to slow down a bit, probably almost drained. When my head started to get dizzy, I wondered, will I be better after the blood runs out? Mom and Dad won't have to worry about their sickly daughter all the time. My sister won't have to yield to me every day. I won't have to pretend to be sensible carefully, won't have to grit my teeth in pain at night daring not to make a sound. I curled up in the bathtub, as safe as in my mother's womb before I was born. Chapter 2 When I opened my eyes again, I only saw my small self soaking in the bathtub, face pale as death. So I am already dead. The sound of the door opening came from outside, followed by my sister's cheerful laughter: "Sissy, I'm back!" I rushed out. Mom and Dad came back holding my sister's hand, carrying a strawberry cake. Dad saw the mess in the living room and froze: "What happened here?" Mom frowned: "She threw a tantrum with me at noon." "Seeing I was going to take her sister to school, she lied about feeling unwell." Dad's face darkened: "Really getting less and less sensible." I wanted to explain, waving desperately in front of them: "No! Clementine didn't mean to make Mom angry!" But my hand passed through Dad's shoulder, they noticed nothing. My sister broke free from Mom's hand and ran to my room door. She knocked gently: "Sissy, come out and eat cake." Silence inside the door. My sister looked up and asked: "Is Sissy asleep?" I hugged my sister: "Thank you, Joy." Mom's voice was cold and hard: "What sleep, just ignoring people on purpose." "Ignore her, let's eat first." Dad put the cake on the dining table. My sister looked eagerly, whispering: "But I want to wait for Sissy to eat together..." Dad opened the box, exchanging a look with Mom: "If Clementine was half as sensible as her sister, we would worry much less." Candles inserted, lit. My sister was lifted onto the chair, blowing out five candles under my parents' gaze. Today is also my sister's fifth birthday. Mom asked gently: "Did Joy make a wish?" My sister's eyes sparkled: "Yes! I wish Sissy..." Dad smiled and patted her head. "Wishes won't come true if you say them out loud." I watched quietly from the side. On my birthdays in past years, the house was always filled with the smell of medicine. The candle numbers on the cake were like a countdown. And my sister's birthday finally looked like what a birthday should be. When cutting the cake, my sister insisted on cutting the biggest piece: "This is for Sissy!" She carried the plate to my room door and knocked again: "Sissy, eat strawberry cake with Joy!" Still no response. The smile on my sister's face slowly disappeared. She carried the plate back to the table, whispering: "Sissy is ignoring me." Dad suddenly reached out, snatched the plate from my sister's hand. And threw it into the trash can along with that exquisite strawberry cake. Dad slapped the table angrily: "Don't eat then! No one is allowed to call her again." "So insensible, starve a few meals and she'll know she's wrong." My sister was scared, eyes red instantly. Mom hugged her, glaring at Dad: "Why are you fierce to the child?" Then said softly to my sister: "Good girl, we eat first. When Sissy knows she's wrong, she will come out herself." I squatted next to the trash can, looking at the cake inside. The strawberries on the cream were still so fresh, but now mixed with dirty tissues. What a pity, it's my favorite strawberry flavor. My sister ate her cake in small bites, looking at my door from time to time. Mom and Dad stopped talking, eating silently. There should have been four places at the table, now one is empty. I sat in that seat, whispering Happy Birthday to my sister. Chapter 3 At night, Mom bathed my sister. I blocked in front of the shower curtain, heart clenched into a ball. Afraid Mom would open the curtain and see me in the tub. In the steam, Mom soaped my sister. My sister looked up, wet hair sticking to her forehead: "Mommy, why isn't Sissy out yet?" Mom's hand rubbing soap paused. "Sissy might be asleep." My sister whispered: "But I miss Sissy, I haven't seen her all day." Mom turned off the water, wrapped my sister in a big towel, and hugged her. "Joy, do you blame Mommy and Daddy?" "Blame what?" Mom hugged my sister tighter: "Blame us for always revolving around Sissy, giving her the best. Blame us for sometimes neglecting you." My sister wrapped her wet little arms around Mom's neck. "No blame, because Sissy is sick." "Teacher said today, sick people need care the most." "Daddy, Mommy and I must love Sissy together." Mom's shoulders trembled slightly. She buried her face in my sister's towel, silent for a while. "Joy is so sensible." "Actually Sissy is very pitiful." I stuck to the cold tiles, hearing Mom continue: "Sissy was born with bad health, doctor said she might not grow up." Mom sniffled: "So Mommy and Daddy are always afraid she hurts, afraid she feels bad, wishing to pile all good things on her." Her voice got lower and lower: "But sometimes Mommy gets tired too." "Also think, how good if Sissy was healthier. How good if I could spend more time with you." My sister listened half-understandingly, patting Mom's back with her small hand. I squatted in the corner, big transparent tears falling down. "Sorry, Mom, I was insensible..." "If I never existed, how good if Mommy and Daddy only had a sister." But they couldn't hear anything. After bathing, Mom carried my sister to bed and coaxed her to sleep. Then she walked to my door, stood for a long time. Finally, she raised her hand and knocked gently. "Clementine, are you asleep?" I floated to her, wanting to reach out and touch her, but my fingertips only passed through air. "Mommy shouldn't have lost temper at you today, Mommy was wrong." "Today was sister's first day of school, Mommy was too nervous, didn't mean to be fierce to you." She paused again, as if waiting for my response. Of course, I could never respond to her again. Mom sighed: "Left cake in the living room. It's your favorite strawberry flavor, remember to eat." She stood at the door for a few more seconds before returning to her room. Door closed. I walked to the living room, saw a piece of cake on the dining table. Small, on a plate, the strawberry on top a bit crooked. It was late at night. I looked at the small me in the bathtub. The water was cold, my face white as paper. Mom never opened the shower curtain. She didn't know, I could never eat the cake she left. I could never hear her apology again. Chapter 4 I followed Mom into the master bedroom. Dad looked up hearing the sound: "Did Clementine come out?" Mom sat by the bed folding clothes, shook her head: "No movement. Child is growing up, strong self-esteem." Dad took off glasses rubbing the bridge of his nose: "Clementine is bitter inside too." "Never went to school since childhood, made few friends. Seeing her sister go to school, envy is normal." "If really no way, let's hire a tutor for Clementine?" Mom paused: "Hire a tutor? Where's the money? Last month's medicine bill is still owed to the hospital." Dad sighed, turned over: "I'll drive Uber. Drive a few hours after work at night, can scrape some together in a month." Mom turned to look at him. Lamplight shone on Dad's face, dark circles obvious under eyes. "You are tired enough working day time, this is dangerous." Dad waved hand: "It's fine, I'm healthy." "Just shoulders a bit sore recently, put a patch on me." Dad turned over, Mom lifted his pajama collar, that patch of skin red and swollen. I stood by the bed, looking at the redness on Dad's shoulder, tears fell on the quilt. I used to say he came home late, say he didn't play with me. Never thought, every day he came home late was paying for me. I threw myself into his arms: "Sorry, Dad. Please forgive my willfulness." Mom put on the patch, both lay down and turned off the light. I lay down between them, like when I was little. Mom's warm breath on the left, Dad's steady heartbeat on the right. I reached out, hugging them loosely. At this moment, I felt especially happy. Next morning, Mom called us for breakfast. Passing the dining table she found that piece of strawberry cake still on the plate, untouched. Cream collapsed, strawberry withered. Gentleness on Mom's face faded bit by bit. She put down the plate, walking towards my room. She knocked twice: "Clementine, come out." No response. Her eyes started to redden: "Mommy apologized yesterday, what more do you want?" "Not eating cake, want to hunger strike?" "Who are you showing attitude to? Want to anger Mommy to death?" Still no sound. Mom held the door handle, pushed open the door. Room empty. Mom turned pale, turned around shouting fearfully to Dad: "Honey, Clementine is missing!" Dad ran over scared: "What? Don't be afraid, let's look properly, must be at home." Just then, my sister's voice came: "Mommy, Sissy is playing with water in the bathroom." I was so anxious I didn't know what to do. I shouted at my sister: "Joy, get out quickly, don't let Mom see me!" But my sister couldn't hear, she pulled the shower curtain fully open. Mom breathed a sigh of relief: "Clementine, you went too far this time! Mommy is really angry!" Next moment, she saw me soaked in bloody water. Chapter 5 In the bathtub, I lay quietly. Water was dark red, my face transparently white, lips blue-purple. Long hair spread like seaweed, still wearing that pink pajama from yesterday. "Ah!" Mom let out a piercing scream. She stumbled to the bathtub, trying to lift me out. "Clementine! My daughter!" Mom incoherent: "Baby don't be afraid, Mommy is here!" My body was stiff and cold, like a heavy stone. Mom used all her strength, slipping several times, finally fishing me out of the bloody water. She hugged me tightly, as if trying to warm me with her body heat. Mom lowered her head, cheek against my forehead: "My daughter, open your eyes and look at Mommy." Tears fell one by one on my blue-white face: "Mommy was wrong, Mommy was really wrong! Mommy didn't mean to ignore you, wake up and scold Mommy okay?" "Hit Mommy is fine too, I only beg you to open your eyes and look at me!" She called my name over and over. Fingers trembling combing my wet sticky hair, wiping water stains and blood from my face. But my eyes never opened again. I knelt beside her, reaching out futilely to wipe tears from her face. But my fingers passed through her cheek again and again, touching nothing. Could only watch her grief drown me. My sister was stunned by this huge change: "Sissy?" She walked timidly to Mom, pulling my clothes: "Sissy get up, water is cold." "Get up and play blocks with Joy okay?" She didn't understand why I didn't move, why Mom cried so scarily. Mom hearing my sister's voice, collapsed even more. She hugged my body tighter, as if letting go meant losing: "My child, Mommy failed you!" She cried out of breath, almost fainting. Body convulsing violently, eyes unfocused, on the verge of passing out. Dad heard Mom's crying, rushed to the bathroom door too. But when he saw the scene in the bathroom clearly, blood drained from his face instantly. Lips trembling, eyes staring dead at me, as if unable to understand what happened. Next second, his legs went soft, tall body collapsing on the floor directly. "Clementine?" Dad's gaze moved from my face to Mom's collapsed face, then back. He shook his head, crawling over on hands and feet: "Impossible! This isn't real!" After feeling I had no pulse, Dad slammed his head against the bathtub violently. "Why? Why does God treat me like this?" He looked up sharply, face covered in snot and tears: "Where is my phone? Call, call 911!" He trembled so much he could barely hold the phone, entered wrong password several times, finally unlocked it. When dialing, fingers shook missing numbers. Tears blurred vision, barely seeing the screen. Dad spoke to the phone, voice broken into pieces. He reported the address intermittently. After hanging up, he hugged Mom and me tightly again. My sister was completely scared, crying loudly on the spot. I was beside them, soul aching like being torn. I wanted so much to tell them stop crying, wanted to hug them. But I could do nothing. I could only say silently: "Sorry, Mom and Dad, I'm a burden even in death." "Sorry, sister, Sissy was bad, scared you."
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