My eight-year-old stepbrother was a brat. One day, he thought it would be funny to pour weed killer into a bottle of Coke. My stepdad came home from work thirsty and chugged half the bottle in one go. My mom wanted to taste the last bit at the bottom. I couldn't help it—I slapped the bottle out of her hand and told her there was weed killer in it. Hearing this, my stepdad kicked me hard, twice. Then he grabbed me by the neck and poured the remaining Coke down my throat, every last drop. His eyes were bloodshot as he squeezed my throat. "You little bitch, you just wanted to see me die, didn't you?" The family panicked and rushed to the hospital. I died alone, writhing in agony and starving. When I opened my eyes again, my stepbrother was pouring weed killer into a Coke bottle. I turned around and walked away, pretending I saw nothing. 1 There were two bottles of Coke on the cabinet. My aunt had bought them for me and my stepbrother, Tyler. But my stepdad and grandma had made it clear: if I dared to drink even a sip, they would break my legs when they got home. Tyler opened both bottles, took a big swig from each, and then carefully started pouring weed killer into them. "La la la~ adding some pesticide for the money-loser to drink." Before he could look toward the door, I quickly slipped away. A moment later, Tyler came up to me, grinning, holding a bottle of Coke. "Hey sis, chopping pig feed is tiring work, right? Here, have a drink and take a break." I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. "I'm not thirsty. You drink it." He suddenly spat on my face. "Pfft! Grandma was right, you really are ungrateful! I waited until they weren't home to let you taste something good, and you don't even appreciate it!" I ignored him and kept chopping the feed. If I didn't feed the pigs before my parents got home, I was in for another beating. Bored with cursing at me alone, he left. I heard him slam the Coke back onto the cabinet in the other room. Later, he went into the yard to chase the chickens and the dog, completely forgetting about the pesticide. 2 When my stepdad came home from work, I was cooking. He stormed into the kitchen and slapped me across the face. "Can't you even pour me a glass of water when you see me come home? I feed you and clothe you, and you're less useful than a dog!" Waiting for the ringing in my ears to subside, I looked up and forced a smile. "Dad, go sit down. I'll make you some sugar water right away." "That's more like it. Hurry up, I'm dying of thirst." He walked out of the kitchen. I knew that as soon as he saw the Coke in the other room, he wouldn't be able to wait to drink it. By the time I finished making the sugar water and rushed to the door of the other room, it was just like in my past life—half the bottle of Coke was already in my stepdad's stomach. Grandma was chuckling beside him. "Good, isn't it? Tell your sister to buy two more bottles next time." "Mom, you have some too." Stepdad handed the Coke to Grandma. Grandma gulped down two mouthfuls, her eyes darting to my mom, who was watching her eagerly. "Alright, alright. Since you gave birth to a son for our Wang family, I'll save a sip for you." Mom took the bottle from Grandma and satisfiedly drank the last bit at the bottom. That's when she saw me at the door. She shook the bottle in her hand and poured the last two drops into her mouth. Then, she threw the bottle at my head with all her might. "What are you looking at? Go serve the rice! We've been working all day, don't you have any sense?" Grandma glared at me too. "There's another bottle for your brother. Don't you dare get any ideas." Then she yelled out the door, "Tyler! Come back quick, your good-for-nothing sister is trying to steal your drink!" Tyler came running back like a whirlwind. As he passed me, he slammed his shoulder into mine. I lost my grip on the sugar water, and it spilled all over the floor. Mom slapped the back of my head. "Can't even hold a bowl? What good are you?" I kept my head down, afraid to speak. She scolded again, "Are you mute? You never say anything. Just looking at you makes me angry." Grandma picked up Tyler and unscrewed the other Coke bottle. "Tyler, ignore them. Here, drink some Coke, Grandma will feed you." Tyler knocked the entire bottle to the ground. "I'm not drinking that! I put pesticide in it! It's for the money-loser to drink!" Stepdad froze. His body started trembling as he grabbed Tyler's arm. His lips were already turning purple. "Son, what did you just say?" "I said, I poured pesticide into the Coke!" Stepdad suddenly clutched his stomach and squatted down, his face flushed red. "My stomach... my stomach... it hurts so bad." Grandma saw the uncapped bottle of Paraquat in the corner and slapped her thigh in despair. "Oh no! He poured Paraquat!" The family had no time for me anymore. They scrambled to find someone to drag my stepdad to the hospital. Before leaving, Mom twisted my ear and warned, "Take good care of your brother. If not, you'll get it when I come back." 3 Grandma and Mom drank very little, so they were saved. Stepdad lay in the hospital for three days before he died. When they brought Stepdad's body back, I was adding wood to the fire. Grandma rushed in, pressed me onto the woodpile, and started pinching me hard. "It's all you, you jinx! Did our family owe you something in a past life? Tyler added the pesticide for you to drink, why didn't you drink it? You killed my son! I want you to pay with your life!" She grabbed handfuls of ash from the ground and shoved them into my nose and mouth. I choked and coughed tears. Struggling, I saw Mom and Tyler standing at the door. They had no intention of stopping her. I even saw the word "revenge" in their eyes. So even with a second chance at life, it was the same ending, just a different way to die. Whatever. I was tired. I closed my eyes and stopped struggling. Just when I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore, someone picked me up. She held me up with one hand and patted my back repeatedly with the other. "Spring, listen to me, spit out the ash! You can't give up, you hear me? Boohoo... what do I do? Help! Someone help!" It was my Aunt Sarah. The only person in this world who treated me like a human being, even though we weren't related by blood. A sudden, powerful will to live surged through me. I bent over, coughing violently, blowing air out of my nose. When I finally caught my breath, I held onto Aunt Sarah's hand tightly. I could feel her whole body trembling. Grandma stood by, cursing, spittle flying everywhere. "Sarah, do you even know what's going on? This little bitch killed your own brother! I raised you just so you could help an outsider piss me off?" She sat on the ground, throwing a tantrum, tears streaming down her face instantly. "My poor son! You just left, and they're already bullying me! What am I going to do?" Seeing I was okay, Aunt Sarah went to comfort Grandma. "Mom, I know you're sad about brother's death. But you can't blame it on a child." Grandma glared at me viciously. "If I don't blame her, who do I blame? She's a jinx! Saving her today is useless. Don't give her food or water. Let's see how long she lasts." "Mom!" Aunt Sarah suppressed her anger and coaxed Grandma. "Brother is gone, but you still have me, and you have Tyler. We'll take care of you." At the mention of Tyler, Grandma smiled a little. "Tyler, you must be tired. Come here, Grandma will put you down for a nap." Before leaving, Grandma gritted her teeth and said, "Once the funeral is over, you and your mother get out of here!" She was talking about me and Mom. Mom glared at her back but didn't say a word. 4 That night, Grandma wouldn't let me sleep. I had to keep watch by Stepdad's coffin. Dozing off, I heard rustling outside. I crept to the door and looked out. It was my mom. She was leaning against the yard fence, talking to a man. In the quiet night, their conversation drifted clearly to my ears. "This is some private money I saved up recently. You'll be busy these next couple of days, buy yourself something good to eat." It was my Uncle Dave's voice. Aunt Sarah was so good, yet he was... with my mom behind her back. Mom pocketed the money. "I called you here for something else. Mom says she's kicking me out after the funeral." "How can she do that? Then I won't be able to see you?" Mom leaned her head into Uncle Dave's chest. "I can only rely on you now. Help me think of a way. Ideally, get rid of..." I didn't hear the rest because I had quietly slipped into Grandma's room. I shook her. "Grandma, I think someone's stealing stuff outside!" She woke up instantly, jumped out of bed, and went outside. I lay by the door watching. This was going to be a good show. Dog eat dog. "Who's there?" Hearing Grandma's voice, Uncle Dave ran away immediately, leaving my mom standing there dumbfounded. Grandma picked up a broom from the yard and started hitting my mom. "You little tramp! My son's bones aren't even cold yet, and you're meeting other men? Do you think I'm dead?" Mom was beaten so hard she ran around in circles. "Don't you dare slander me! There was no man!" "I saw him with my own eyes! Were you cuckolding my son long ago? I'm going to break your legs today!" Grandma swung her arm with all her might, and Mom howled in pain. "Help! Murder!" Tyler, woken by the noise, ran out rubbing his eyes. Then he picked up a hoe leaning against the wall. He walked up behind Grandma menacingly. Grandma turned back and said, "Tyler, your mom found a wild man. Help me catch her. We'll lock her in the cow shed to reflect." Then she turned back to continue beating Mom. The next second, the hoe in Tyler's hand smashed into the back of her head. "Old hag! How dare you hit my mom! Who gave you the guts?" Grandma made a gurgling sound, then fell straight to the ground. Tyler hit her back with the hoe again. "I'm asking you a question! Stop playing dead!" Mom ran over and hugged Tyler, her voice trembling. "Our Tyler... really is Mom's little man!" Tyler smiled, triumphantly saying, "Let's see who dares to bully Mom now!" I quickly climbed into Grandma's bed and pretended to be asleep.
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