David paced irritably in the living room. Suddenly, his eyes landed on the punching bag.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
He struck it hard, each punch far stronger than Jason’s. The bag shook violently.
The impact tore through the canvas and slammed into my body.
Crack!
I thought I heard the faint snap of a rib. Agonizing pain surged through me, stealing even the strength to whimper. My consciousness began to blur…
In that haze, I saw my mother’s face again—Margaret Brooks smiling gently as she placed meat in Daniel’s bowl, while casting me only impatient glances.
“You’re the eldest, you should know better. That tuition-free state school is good enough. Graduate quickly so you can support the family.”
“Did you hear me? Don’t even think about going out-of-state for college. If you dare, I’ll break your legs…”
The admission letter from a top university crumpled in my hands, then slipped silently into the trash.
Later, I graduated.
My first paycheck was only $3,500. I sent nearly all of it home, leaving myself just $500 for living expenses.
“You live in the company dorm and have a free cafeteria. Why keep so much? Two hundred a month is plenty…”
I pinched pennies. I wore shoes until they split, never daring to buy new ones.
When colleagues invited me shopping, I smiled and said, “Next time,” then went back to overtime.
When roommates split the bill for dinner, I made excuses—“I already have plans”—then wandered around a free park for two hours before returning.
At last, Daniel graduated from college, and I was preparing for my wedding.
I thought escaping my family would bring relief.
But David was a classic chauvinist. In his eyes, there was only work—nothing else mattered.
The crying children, endless chores, pressure from the job… like countless ropes tightening around me.
Time blurred, Emily entered college, Jason went to high school.
But as graduation neared, Emily failed course after course. Watching her sink deeper into mobile games filled me with panic and anger.
She, however, argued self-righteously:
“Everyone in my class lives off their parents. No school, no job, just the family paying for everything. If you can’t give me what I want, why did you even have me?”
“Why should I live like you—miserable and bitter? Why should I do chores, why can’t I fail my classes, why should I pay bills after graduation?”
“Responsibility, responsibility—blah blah blah. You’re so annoying! If you’re menopausal, go get treatment.”
Each word cut like a knife, slicing away my last fragile hope.
I was always wrong.
Sacrifice was expected; demands were natural.
My life—such a failure. A bitter, crushing failure.
Tears slipped down silently, tasting unbearably sour.
Perhaps dying like this… would be a relief.
At least I wouldn’t see my daughter’s cold eyes anymore.
At least I wouldn’t hear my husband’s constant blame.
At least I wouldn’t have to stretch every miserable dollar.
At least I wouldn’t have to endure my mother’s endless demands.
At least I wouldn’t have to imagine one day becoming a free nanny for my children’s kids, only to be despised again…
I was tired.
So very tired.
My final thread of will to live drowned under this boundless exhaustion and despair.
Slowly, I closed my eyes.
The sounds of the outside world faded away…
Bang!
David’s furious crash echoed outside—probably kicking over a trash can or chair.
