Chapter 3
One morning in seventh grade, I woke up with a stomachache so fierce that it felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all at once. I curled up into a ball, desperate for the pain to stop.
My mind went hazy from the agony, and before I knew it, I passed out.
Not long after, a sharp kick to my stomach jolted me awake.
I opened my eyes to see my mom staring down at me with a look of resentment.
Before I could even say anything, she started yelling, "Do you want me to starve to death? Why aren't you up making breakfast? I'm already exhausted taking care of your brother, and now you're just making things worse!"
My mom had just given birth to my little brother, and suddenly he was the precious one everyone had been waiting for, the only one anyone cared about.
So, I got saddled with making breakfast for the whole family every single morning before heading off to school.
I was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, clutching my stomach as I pleaded, "Mom, my stomach hurts so much. Can you please take me to the hospital?"
My mom didn't even hesitate. She ripped the blanket off me with a cold, hard motion.
The northern winter wind was brutal, slicing through me and making my whole body tremble uncontrollably.
She snapped, "We give you food and a roof over your head, and you still want to be lazy? If I'd known, I would've let your dad sell you off.
"You're only here because I stood up for you. You heartless little wretch, get up and make breakfast, now!"
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep going, my legs trembling with pain.
Stumbling into the kitchen, shaking all over, I somehow managed to make breakfast before hurrying off to school.
If I could just make it to school, maybe the teacher would help me.
The wind was especially fierce that day, whipping against my face and leaving me dazed.
I couldn't make it through the forty-minute trek from home. Halfway there, the pain finally got the best of me, and I collapsed right there on the side of the road.
When I finally came to, I was lying in a hospital bed.
The nurse told me I had acute appendicitis. If I'd gotten there any later, they'd have had to take out a chunk of my guts.
My mom stood there, clearly annoyed. "All you ever do is make trouble for me. Now I have to pay $600 for your hospital stay.
"Your brother still needs me to look after him. I don't have time to waste on you."
She just kept getting nastier, and if the nurse hadn't finally told her to quiet down, I wished the ground would just swallow me up.
Just like she said, not a single person from my family bothered to visit me while I was stuck in the hospital. They were all wrapped up in taking care of my little brother, like I didn't even exist.
The hospital bill came to over three thousand, and even after insurance, I still had to pay one thousand out of pocket.
Turned out, I didn't even have insurance.
Thankfully, the doctor rallied donations and managed to pull together enough to pay the bill.
The lady in the next bed felt sorry for me, so whenever she brought food for her son, she'd always bring me a plate, too.
I didn't just freeload. I did my part by helping her make the bed and fetching water.
Every time she caught me, she'd gently stop my hands and tell me not to bother.
"You're such a good kid. Your family really doesn't deserve you," she'd say, her voice full of sympathy.
Her words sent sharp pangs through my heart, and I had to blink back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
When the cold scalpel glided over my body, I didn't feel a thing. Even when they stuck tubes into me, it didn't hurt at all.
But those gentle words—every time I remembered them, my nose would sting and my heart would ache with a thousand tiny pains.
If I ever had even a trace of family affection left for them, that surgery ground it to dust and scattered it to the wind.
Edwin would grab his lunch and eat it in our classroom every day.
Senior year was all about squeezing every second out of the day, so as soon as I finished eating, I'd pull out my practice tests and get to work.
Edwin just sat there, his chin in his hands, staring straight at me.
When I finally finished my test and looked up, I locked eyes with him. His gaze was warm and gentle, soft as water.
His long lashes fluttered, tugging at my heartstrings.
"W-Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?" I asked, quickly wiping my face.
"Because you're pretty," he said, his voice soft and sincere.
My heart started racing, skipping a beat at his words.
I said, "Maybe I could help you study? What do you think?"
His smile suddenly vanished.
Noticing his reaction, I pressed on, "Don't you want us to go to the same college?"
He fell silent, lost in thought.
He said, "Honey, you know my grades are just barely brushing the cutoff for an elite university. If I actually make it, that'd be me performing way above my usual level."
"We still have over two hundred days left," I reminded him.
Seeing that smile on his face that looked more like he was about to cry, I kept going.
I said, "You know how likely it is for long-distance couples to break up. If we're not at the same college, we might split up before the first month's even over."
He said, "Alright, as long as you promise we'll stay together, I'll study my ass off."