Dead and Gone: No, Not Really

Mom came back to her senses first. She pulled me away. "How dare you, Yvette Skye? You wouldn't be here if it weren't for your sister!"

Both of them looked at me with hate and disbelief in their eyes. They did not seem to think that anything was wrong with the way they were treating me.

I lowered my hand to my sides tiredly.

Mom was right.

My birth was a mistake from the start, especially where Yvonne was concerned.

When Yvonne was born, Mom had high hopes for her. She wanted her to become a dancer, as it was her own unrealized dream.

Yvonne hadn't disappointed her. She was talented at dancing. Even her teacher said that she would be able to become a world-class dancer if she continued working hard.

Mom had been ecstatic at the time. She had brought Yvonne out to buy her some new clothes. It was then that tragedy struck; a car lost control and barrelled toward Mom.

It was Yvonne who had pushed her away and saved her life, sacrificing herself in return. She collapsed in a pool of blood and was rushed to the hospital. Even so, the doctors still weren't able to save her legs.

At the hospital, Mom also found out that she was two months pregnant with me.

Dad did not want her to give birth to me, as he was afraid that Yvonne would be upset.

After multiple arguments, I was born.

I had always known, even from a young age, that I wasn't wanted. My birth was nothing but stubbornness on Mom's part.

I had no right to resist.

If I explained myself, they would take it as talking back. If I kept silent, I was sulking. If I didn't do well in my studies, I was useless, and if I cried, I was dramatic.

"Everyone else is fine. Why are you the only one depressed?" Mom said as she locked me up.

The room was dark, with only a red light flashing every so often in the corner. I could hear the mechanical sound of a camera turning back and forth.

I knew that Mom was watching me.

I curled up in a corner, hugging my knees to my chest.

I hated this room more than anywhere else in the world, yet this was the room that I was most often in.

Every time I disappointed Mom, she would throw me into this room and lock me up until her anger subsided.

Once, she locked me up for three whole days.

The entire family seemed to have forgotten about me. No matter how much I cried and screamed, they ignored me.

When they finally opened the door, I had already passed out, barely alive.

…

It was fine. It wouldn't be so bad if I just fell asleep.

The next second, I blacked out.

When I woke up again, I found myself in a hospital room.

There were bandages wrapped around my head, and my cheeks were stinging in pain.

What had happened?

The room was quiet. It was so quiet that I could hear the argument outside the room.

"Why is God so cruel? I shouldn't have given birth to her in the first place!"

"She's just being childish. This depression thing is just something she made up to scare you. This might all just be an act!"

I could imagine Dad's expression when she said that.

Yvonne spoke next. "That's right. Have you forgotten? Yvette has always been good at acting, even when she was young."

I smiled self-deprecatingly. Right, I had always been good at acting.

Back then, Dad lost 50 dollars mysteriously, and Yvonne had insisted that I was the one who had taken the money.

"It wasn't me!" I had tried defending myself, taking out all of my belongings so that my parents could check.

They had checked my drawers and my pillow. When they got to my bag, a 50-dollar note fell out of my bag.

Dad was livid. He slapped me hard across the face.

Yvonne kept repeating how good at acting I was as she watched our parents punish me.

I hadn't taken the money.

Later, I found out that this was all Yvonne's idea of a joke. She had framed me because she hated me.

She hated me because Mom had transferred all her hopes and dreams onto me. She hated me because I had taken away Mom and Dad's attention from her.

The entire family knew how much Yvonne's injuries had devastated her.

"She can't accept the fact that she can't walk again, Yvette. Just let her have what she wants."

"She just hit you a little. What's the big deal? Why are you so cruel?"

My surroundings became blurred as reality and fantasy blurred together. The voices outside jumbled together incomprehensibly.

Sweat dripped from the side of my forehead. My stomach was churning.

My existence was a mistake. Why did Mom give birth to me?