The Monster They Made Me

Anthony used the purest, most innocent words to expose the rot in my soul. After Grandma left, he was the only one who offered me a shred of pity.

Sobs tore through my throat, breaking the dam I'd built against the pain. I clung to my little brother, two small bodies huddled together in the dark, sharing what little warmth we had against the freezing night.

The next morning, Anthony scrambled back to his room at first light.

Not long after, Mom's frantic scream pierced the air.

"Honey! Hurry! Take Tony to Dr. Zhang at the village entrance! He slept all night but his body's ice cold—did he catch a chill?"

The sheer panic in her voice stirred something buried. I remembered that once, I had been this family's treasure too.

I recalled a winter tantrum I threw over a dress I'd seen on TV. To appease me, Mom had crossed the frozen river in the dead of winter to buy it. On her way back, the ice gave way. She was nearly swept under by the current; if Dad hadn't been a strong swimmer, she would have drowned.

The first thing Mom did when she woke up, coughing water from her lungs, was apologize to me.

"Cathy, I'm sorry. Mom lost the new clothes. Be a good girl—once I'm better, I'll go buy them for you again."

I didn't blame her. She must have just forgotten. That had to be why she never gave me those clothes, even now.

Mom loved me. She definitely loved me.

In the main bedroom, Anthony hugged Mom and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Mom, I rolled off the bed this morning. That's why I'm cold. I'm fine." He rubbed his stomach theatrically. "You must be hungry, right? It's cold out. Let's let Dad eat first too."

Anthony was an angel—far kinder, far more thoughtful than I ever was.

Later in my childhood, when I asked for clothes again, Mom didn't cross a river. She crossed my face with her palm.

"You ungrateful little wretch! Hurting me once wasn't enough? You won't be happy until you see me dead, is that it?"

She had just given birth to Anthony then. I only wanted to steal her attention back; I hadn't cared about her safety.

I was detestable. No wonder Mom hated me.

But I didn't truly wake up to that reality until Anthony died.

After starving for a full day, the clinking of bowls and chopsticks in the courtyard drew me out like a moth to flame.

When Mom saw me emerge, her expression hardened. She tossed an old, dented iron basin onto the dirt. Splashed cold water mixed with leftover rice into it.

"Eat."

Mrs. Harmon happened to be passing by the gate. She paused, her face twisting.

"Mrs. Simmons... Cathy is your daughter, not a stray dog. How can you not even let her sit at the table?"

Mom slammed her chopsticks down.

"Don't you dare lecture me. She came out of me; I'll discipline her however I see fit!" She stood, voice rising. "Besides, who was it back then that called her a monster? Who told me not to bring her back to the village? Now you're pretending to be a saint?"

Years ago, when Mom gave birth to me via IVF, the village gossip mill churned with rumors. They said the blood in my veins wasn't human, that I was a test-tube monster who would grow up to eat people.

If Grandpa Whitney hadn't used his influence to back us up, Mom—who had fiercely protected me back then—would have been driven out of the village along with me.

Mrs. Harmon opened her mouth to argue, but Mom cut her down with a single question.

"When are you going to pay back the money you owe my husband for treating your eldest son's illness?"

Mrs. Harmon snapped her mouth shut. She cast a fleeting, pitying glance at me before hurrying away.

The mother who once shielded me from rot-throwing villagers was gone.

She looked at me with eyes like ice. Stood up, grabbed the basin, and dumped the watery porridge into the chicken coop.

"If you won't eat, fine. Raising a dog is better than raising you. At least a dog knows to bite my enemies." She sneered. "Raising you? You just wait for me to die."

Her words carried a hidden barb. I knew exactly what she meant.

It was a memory from years ago. Mom had taken me to Grandma's house for a visit. We were walking back, her hands full of bags stuffed with my favorite snacks.

We were passing the cornfield when two men lunged out from the tall stalks.

They ripped me from Mom's grip and spiked me into the hard earth. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Then they dragged Mom into the cornfield.

She screamed, thrashing against them, yelling one thing over and over:

"Run! Cathy, go find Dad!"