I Became The Family Scapegoat

After the chaos, the customers lost all appetite. One by one, they left with dark expressions on their faces.

“You’re such a brat! Get out!” the restaurant owner roared. He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out the door.

At the same time, my mother and father led Maggie into the restaurant.

I tried to follow them inside, but Maggie shot me a vicious glare.

She leaned close to my ear and warned me.

“If you don’t want us getting yelled at, stay the hell away from us.”

I remained outside the restaurant and endured the terrible burning pain on my face and in my eye. I watched them feast through the window. I felt hungry and indignant.

“Little one, are your parents bad to you? How about I find you a new mom and dad who will actually love you?”

A scar-faced man had crouched down in front of me with a stiff smile. He spoke in a high, sweet voice, as if he were talking to a baby.

Really? New parents who would not make me do those terrible things? Parents who would treat me the way my parents treated my sister?

Looking at the scar-faced man, I nodded with a hopeful look on my face. Then, I took his hand and walked away with him.

He led me away from the restaurant, weaving through several streets before turning into a dark, isolated alley.

Suddenly, he pulled out a sack and tried shoving it over my head.

“Help! Somebody help! A man is trying to kidnap me!” I sensed something wrong and started fighting with all my strength.

The man clamped a hand over my mouth and nose. His expression turned vicious and cruel.

“Stay still! This place is too far out for anyone to hear you. No one is coming to save you. You should just cooperate. It would hurt less that way.”

No! If he took me away, I would only end up living a worse life than before. I did not want to go with him.

I shook my head wildly beneath his grip. I clawed at the large hands that covered my mouth and nose.

However, he only pressed harder and harder.

Slowly, my strength faded.

A crushing pain spread through my chest. My throat filled with the metallic taste of blood.

My vision darkened around the edges. My arms and legs grew numb and heavy. Little by little, consciousness slipped away.

When I opened my eyes again, I was floating above the alley. Below me, the man was still gripping my limp body tightly in his arms.

I was dead.

The moment I understood what had happened, a strange sense of relief washed over me.

Finally! I would never have to be the family scapegoat again. I would never have to be hated by everyone around me.

When the scar-faced man saw that I had stopped struggling, he loosened his grip. He finally realized I was no longer breathing.

His face twisted with annoyance, and he kicked my body.

“What rotten luck. I finally find an easy boy to trick, and he goes and dies on me. Darn it.”

He walked away without looking back.

My soul drifted and came back to my parents.

They had just finished eating at the restaurant. My mother and father walked out holding Maggie by the hand.

Watching the three of them together, a happy little family, it did not hurt anymore.

I did not feel sad or jealous.

“That little brat must’ve run off and played again. Where is he now? We even packed up some of his favorite dishes since he actually helped us out today. What a waste of our effort.”

Mom snorted angrily and tossed the takeout container straight into a nearby trash can.

“He doesn’t deserve such good food. Let’s go home.”

I had thought I no longer cared about anything. But seeing those dishes, food I had never once been allowed to eat before, thrown casually into the garbage still made something ache inside me.

There was a time when Mom and Dad really loved me. They used to buy me toys, snacks, and all kinds of little things that made me happy.

Everything changed after the day I accidentally broke a thousand-dollar vase at a porcelain shop. The owner had simply smiled and waved it off. He said, “Little boys will be little boys. Kids are mischievous. It’s fine. There’s no need to pay for anything.” After that, my parents changed.

“You’re a kid. People forgive children no matter what kids do. Your mother and I have been working very hard. Would you be willing to help us out and make life easier for us?”

I was too little and naive back then. When I heard I could be of some help to them, I nodded without hesitation.

From that day on, I became the family scapegoat.

That night, Mom received a call.

“Hello, this is the organizing committee for the figure skating competition. After reviewing surveillance footage, we found evidence suggesting a participant may have deliberately placed razor blades inside another competitor’s skates. A formal investigation has been opened. Please report to the local police station tomorrow for questioning.”