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My older brother never wanted to marry or have kids. When he was twenty-five, our parents decided to have another child so the family line wouldn't end with him. That child was me. Mom died giving birth to me. Dad disappeared soon after. I was passed back and forth between my aunt's and uncle's homes. By the time I turned seven, every relative had had enough. They took my brother to court and demanded that he take responsibility for me. The day the judge ordered him to take me in, I dragged a tiny suitcase behind me with practiced effort. Hands trembling, I grabbed his arm as he walked out of the courthouse. He frowned and turned around. For the first time in my life, I looked into my brother's eyes. They were cold. And full of hatred.