My Parents Neglected Me Until I Died Novel by yueji

Since that day, I hadn’t left the house, nor did I take my medication.

The only time I would swallow a pill was when Janet made me take it in front of her. Afterwards, I’d stand over the sink, forcing myself to vomit it out.

I didn’t know when I’d decide to end my life.

Nothing interested me anymore; all I could feel was sadness.This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

It was my fault for not being good enough, not trying hard enough, that made my parents not love me.

It was my fault for not being mature enough to leave the family, that made Victoria hate me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have existed at all?

Pain rippled through my body.

Where did it hurt?

I didn’t know.

A child unloved isn’t worthy of calling anything pain.

“You should come home. so we can dissolve the adoption.”

I received the message from my father on WeChat.

Those words burned into my eyes.

I replied with a simple “okay,” packed my things, and returned to a house that never felt like mine.

My father sat in the center of the sofa, while my mother leaned against the other side, refusing to look at me.

In the middle of the coffee table, a few sheets of paper were laid out, staring me in the face.

Termination of Adoption Agreement.

It only needed my signature.

“Your character is corrupt, and your mind is malicious. I don’t think it’s suitable for you to stay in our family any longer.”

Victoria came rushing out of her room, frantic. “No! Don’t make sister leave!”

I picked up the agreement and looked at them. “How is my character corrupt? How am I malicious?”

“Hmph, you’ve got the nerve to ask. Ever since you came to this house, you’ve done nothing but bully your sister!”

My mother spat the words at me.

“Sister never bullied me, it’s always been my fault for making her angry.” Victoria stood by, pretending to defend me.

Such an actress.

I bent down to grab the pen, my fingers stiff and unsteady as I scribbled my name across the paper, then tossed the pen aside.

I stared at Victoria. “You know very well John was whose boyfriend before, so why act innocent now?”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” My father slammed his hand on the table, shouting at me, but I ignored him.

Victoria frantically waved her hands, saying she didn’t not know, and rushed over to pull me.

“It’s such a hot day, sister, why are you wearing such thick clothes? You must be hot and confused.”

As she said this, she reached for my coat.

Panic surged through me, and I quickly grabbed at my clothes.

I couldn’t let her take it off! No, not the clothes!

“Get away!” I shoved Victoria, and as she fell, she yanked at my coat, dragging it down with her.

The cold air hit the exposed skin on my arm, sending a chill through me.

I heard them gasp.

I trembled as I quickly pulled my clothes back on.

Why did they have to strip me? Why? I was already dressed like this, why did they want to take my clothes off?

Nervously, I clutched my clothes tighter.

“Where did you get these wounds?!” my father demanded.

But what right did he have to question me?

“I got hurt by accident.”

“An accident left you with this many knife scars?!” He stormed over, grabbing my arm, trying to tear off my clothes.

I struggled, fighting back.

Fear clawed its way into my chest.

“No, no…!” I cried, breaking down as I resisted his hands. “Don’t take off my clothes.”

Startled, he let go and stepped back.

My mother muttered in annoyance, “He just wants to see the wounds. Why scream like something worse is happening?”

I grabbed the ashtray from the table, ready to smash it over my father’s head.

He wasn’t my father. He was a monster.

Victoria pushed me aside, gripping my wrist to wrestle the ashtray out of my hand.

“Sister, are you crazy?!” she shouted, her fingers tightening around my wristband.

I felt a sharp, intense pain as my wound tore open, and I capitalized on her hold on my wrist to forcefully slam the ashtray down onto the floor.

The glass exploded into fragments, sc**ing at everyone’s feet.

The eerie silence before the storm.

My father’s hand lashed across my face in an instant. “You were going to hit me?”

I slapped him back. “You blame me without knowing the truth. You deserved it.”

He moved to strike again, but Victoria stepped between us.

Pointing at my wrist, she trembled. “Sister, your… your wrist is bleeding.”

Blood dripped from my fingertips, splattering onto the floor.

Like little blood blossoms.

They froze, terrified by the sight of me.

I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped it away carelessly. “Don’t worry about me.”

I wasn’t coming back to this house.

“Maybe one day I’ll be dead anyway.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve all been hoping for?”