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Born amidst blessings, I was nonetheless a short-lived soul with a defective heart. My mother gave up her passion for painting to take care of me, while my father sold off our possessions and took me from doctor to doctor in search of a cure. But after five years, there was still no improvement in my condition. At the age of six, I was kidnapped. My father was brutally attacked, suffering ten knife wounds, which left him unable to have more children. I suffered severe head injuries that led to a gradual mental decline. Upon hearing the news, my mother fainted on the spot, only to find out she was three months pregnant. My grandmother threatened suicide if she didn't keep the baby. All my mother did was hold me close, crying endlessly. "Don't worry, Charlotte. Mom will definitely heal you," she cried. From that day on, it was as if my mother had transformed into someone else. One day, I snatched a doll from my little brother, Samuel Sutton. Unable to contain herself any longer, my mother broke down in tears. Once she had cried her fill, she shouted, "We've given up everything for you. Why do you have to haunt us?" "I'm sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have taken Samuel's toy," I said, terrified. My mother froze. Suddenly, she pulled me into her arms, whispering apologies. That night, Dad broke his own rule and took me to the street. As I turned around with a carefully chosen pearl bracelet for Mom, I found myself utterly alone. This was the sixth time he had lost me. But this time, I didn't wait for him to come back for me. Instead, when an out-of-control truck headed straight for me, I closed my eyes with a smile.