Mommy, I'll Be Good and Go Die

Mom always said my birthday was her day of suffering, so she never allowed me to celebrate it. But Chloe… she always had a grand birthday party every year. I cried, begging Mom to let me celebrate just once. Mom, however, pulled out the annual statement and threw it in front of me: “This year, I’ve spent a whopping five thousand eight hundred fifty dollars and six cents on you.” “You useless burden, after all the money I’ve poured into you, you still expect a birthday celebration?” I didn’t understand. Our family wasn’t poor, yet Mom remembered every penny, even the cost of an ice cream. “If it weren’t for having you, how would my body be ruined and covered in stretch marks? How else would your father have gone out and found a mistress?” “All my suffering, it’s because of you. If you truly want to repay me, you should just die.” “I almost died in the operating room giving birth to you, and not only are you ungrateful, but you want to celebrate my suffering? Do you even have conscience?” I pulled the covers tightly over myself, afraid to even cry out loud. To make Mom happy, I jumped from the rooftop. But even after I truly died, Mom and Dad still weren’t happy.