This story illustrates how academic integrity and personal resilience can overcome systemic manipulation and family exploitation. The protagonist, Marcus, spent 18 years secretly studying while his sister Sienna exploited his scores to maintain her 'genius' reputation. When Sienna attempted to cheat on the national exam by artificially inflating her score to 751 (exceeding the maximum of 750), Marcus exposed the fraud through video evidence, leading to legal consequences for his family. The narrative demonstrates that education serves as a powerful tool for personal advancement and that honest effort, combined with strategic planning and evidence preservation, can overcome systemic manipulation and family exploitation.
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My sister stole my scores to top the grade — until I scored 741 and exposed everything.Hinzugefügt:
My sister's grades are strange. When I score 600, she scores 610. When I push to 610, she instantly jumps to 620. Her score always lands exactly 10 points above mine. But whenever I take a day off and miss an exam, my sister's grades completely fall apart. And that confirms my theory. My sister's scores are tied to mine. With that as my starting point, a wild plan takes shape in my mind. If I score above 740 on the national exam, what will happen? In the months before the exam, I live like a monk. But Sienna is the opposite. She has me to lean on, so she acts like she owns the world. She drops out of studying entirely and runs around partying with her friends. Every time she gets caught, she rolls her eyes. She slams her phone on the table.
Can you stop nagging me? Relax. The top score is definitely going to be mine, and I don't let her down. Every practice exam, I carry her straight to first place in our grade. I want her drunk on a fake cloud while I quietly close in on 7:41. The second half of senior year cuts into me like a dull blade. Day after day, I wake up at 5:00 every morning, go to bed at midnight, and in between, except for eating and bathroom breaks, all I do is grind problems. I lock myself inside that tiny room that never sees sunlight, running like a machine that never stops. Sienna's room is right next door. I hear her laughing on video calls with friends, or shrieking at whatever show she's binging. Sometimes she cranks the volume up on purpose, like she's rubbing it in that she can do whatever she wants. I don't care. I learned a long time ago to block out every sound. There's only one number looping in my head. 7:41. It's like a nail driven into my chest. And every time I want to quit, I press down hard. The pain keeps me awake. In March, Sienna starts coming in and out of my room constantly. At first, I don't think much of it. Maybe she's just looking for something, but then I notice something is off. The way she looks at me changes.
There's suspicion in her eyes, testing me. One time, I'm working on the hardest math problem on the paper, and she pushes the door open, stands behind me, and stares at my scratch paper for a long time. You've been studying really hard lately. What's going on? I don't even look up. I keep writing. It's fine.
The exam's coming up. What else am I supposed to do? Sienna leans in closer, trying to see what I'm writing. But you've never been this intense before.
My heart skips, but I keep my face blank. I let out a heavy sigh on purpose, put down my pen, and fake exhaustion. Mom and dad are threatening to cut me off if I don't get into a top university. What am I supposed to do?
Sienna's face relaxes, and a smirk creeps across her lips. You a top university? She turns and walks out, tossing one last jab over her shoulder.
Don't burn yourself out. The top score is going to be mine anyway. I watch her leave without a word. Once the door clicks shut, I pick up my pen again, the corner of my mouth curling up. Good.
Keep underestimating me. The less you respect me, the safer I am. But Sienna's guard doesn't drop entirely. Over the next few weeks, she starts digging around for clues about how my studying is going. She asks which subjects are hardest for me, what I'm scoring on practice exams. Sometimes she throws out comments just to mess with my head, trying to shake my confidence. I counter every move. On every practice exam, I deliberately hold back my score, making sure I don't stand out too much. I stay in the top five. Not flashy, not suspicious. My real weapon stays hidden.
The hardest problem types, the trickiest techniques. I only practice alone late at night. When I'm done, I tear my scratch paper to shreds and flush it down the toilet. No trace left behind.
One night, I'm working through competition level problems when I hear voices in the living room. It's mom and Sienna talking. I crack my door open and listen. Sienna, has Mark has been pushing himself too hard lately? I see him locked up in his room every day. He won't even come out to eat. Sienna laughs like it's nothing. Mom, what are you worried about? No matter how hard he tries, how far can he really go?
Whatever he scores, I beat him by 10 points. The harder he works, the higher my score. Right, right, right, right.
That's my smart girl. Let him grind.
He's basically working for you. They both laugh. I listen to every word, my fists clenched so tight, my nails dig into my palms. But on the surface, I stay calm. I quietly close the door and go back to my problems. One night in April, I'm studying in my room as usual when I hear the faintest sound outside my door. I freeze and listen. footsteps soft like someone trying not to be heard. Then the door handle turns painfully slow. I know instantly she's spying on me. I don't turn around. I keep pretending to focus on my work, but I've already swapped the paper in front of me for a basic practice sheet. The real advanced material is locked deep in my drawer. The door cracks open just a sliver, and from the corner of my eye, I catch half of Sienna's face. She's scanning my desk. I sigh on purpose and mutter to myself, "How did I get this wrong again? This is way too hard." I close my notebook and slump over the desk, pretending to rest. The door eases shut. The footsteps fade. I sit back up and let out a cold laugh. Sienna, the more you watch me, the more it proves you're scared. You know better than anyone that those scores aren't yours.
You're just a parasite. Without me, you're nothing. In the May practice exam, I score 695. Sienna gets 705.
First in the grade. The day the results come out, she throws a celebration at home. Mom and dad hover around her, praising her for bringing honor to the family. The dinner table is covered with all her favorite dishes. I sit in the corner eating in silence like I don't exist. Dad puts down his chopsticks and looks at Sienna with pride. Excellent work, Sienna. Keep it up. You've got the exam locked down. That's my daughter.
Smart jeans run the family. Mom chimes in, her voice dripping with pride. She doesn't even try to hide. Sienna throws me a smug glance, a mocking smile playing on her lips. Better step it up, Marcus. Don't fall too far behind me. It would be embarrassing for mom and dad. I grunt a response. No argument. I keep eating, but inside I'm laughing. Enjoy it. Soak it all in. This is the last time you'll ever shine. That night, I lie in bed, wide awake, running through every possible scenario for those two days of the national exam over and over again. June, the national exam arrives right on schedule. The night before, Sienna goes out drinking with friends, calling it a pre-ceelebration. Mom doesn't stop her. She even stuffs a watt of cash into Sienna's hand. You've worked hard, sweetheart. Go have fun. I watch all of this through the crack of my bedroom door, feeling nothing at all.
Just the irony. That night, I'm in bed by 8:00. Alarm set for 6:00 the next morning. Lying in bed, I'm unnaturally calm, like a blade waiting to be drawn.
Everything I've held back will pay off tomorrow. The next morning, I wake up right on time. I grab a few bites of breakfast and head out. Mom drives Sienna to the exam hall. All she says to me is a half-hearted, "Do your best." I nod. No point saying anything. This is the last time. After this, we go our separate ways. The exam is in the old school building. I'm assigned a seat on the third floor, right by the window, sunlight pouring in. I sit down and line up my supplies one by one. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and say to myself, "Marcus, you've waited 18 years for this day. Don't lose." The bell for the language exam rings. The moment I flip open the paper, my mind is sharper than it has ever been. Every question feels like an old friend. Every trap in the reading section, I see it coming.
The essay topic is exactly the type I've practiced hundreds of times. The words pour out of me. After the language exam, I step out and Sienna rushes straight to me. She's wearing perfect makeup, but there's a hint of panic underneath.
How'd it go? Not bad. She frowns. Not bad means how good. How many multiple choice did you miss? I look at her and almost laugh. She's trying to figure out my score so she can calculate her own.
No idea. I didn't check. Sienna pouts, clearly not happy with that answer, but she doesn't push it. She turns and walks away. I watch her go, thinking, "What's the rush? The scores will be out soon enough. Then you'll really have something to panic about." That afternoon during math, something goes wrong halfway through. My stomach cramps up violently. Maybe it's something I ate this morning. Maybe it's the pressure.
Cold sweat drenches me instantly. I slump over my desk for a few seconds before I can even think straight. A proctor walks over and whispers, "Are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse's office?" I shake my head. I grit my teeth. I'm fine. Are you kidding me?
I waited 18 years for this test. Even if it kills me, I'm finishing this paper. I dig my nails hard into my thigh. The sharp pain drowns out my stomach and I push through. The numbers and formulas blur in front of me, but pure muscle memory carries me through every single question. On the final problem, the hardest one, I verify my answer three different ways. Only after I'm sure do I put down my pen. Walking out of the exam hall, I'm nearly collapsing. I find an empty corner, crouch down, and sit there for a long time. Sienna texts me asking how math went. I type two words. It was fine. She fires back instantly with a smug emoji. Obviously, she thinks she's got it in the bag again. I stare at that emoji and think how pathetic. Ignorance really is bliss. That's exactly the kind of person she is. Day is science and English. My energy is mostly back. These are my strongest subjects, especially science. Those physics problems, the chemistry chains, the biology, genetics, I've drilled them all a thousand times.
My pen flows like water across the page.
I finish with 20 minutes to spare. I double check every single answer. Zero room for error. And English, don't even get me started. The graders would have to try not to give me a high score.
After the last exam, I walk out and stand at the entrance of the building. I look up at the sky. The sun is blinding.
I don't look away. I just stand there letting it hit my face. 18 years. I finally made it. Sienna is the first to rush over and block my path. She's dressed in bright colors today like a proud peacock. Greed flickers in her eyes. How'd you do? Good. Better than I've ever done. Best exam of my life.
Sienna's eyes light up like she just hit the jackpot. She spins around and sprints toward our parents. Mom. Dad.
Marcus says he did amazing. That means I definitely did even better. Watching her skip away, I smile, too. The smile of a hunter watching his prey walk into the trap. Sienna, do you know what you look like right now? A moth flying straight into the flames, thinking it's the sun.
After the exam, summer break starts and Sienna completely lets loose. She swears to mom and dad she'll be in the top 10 in the entire province. She cashes in a massive advance on her allowance, upgrades her phone and laptop to the most expensive models, and takes the money our parents worked hard to save and blows it all on trips with her deadbeat friends. Her social media updates every single day. Nothing but restaurants and shopping and partying.
She doesn't have a care in the world.
One night, I'm scrolling through her posts and see a photo from some fancy restaurant captioned, "Future top scorer celebrating early." underneath a flood of likes and comments. Sienna, you're incredible. Take us out to dinner. I read through it all and just think, this is absurd. Meanwhile, I want to go visit grandpa in the countryside. I ask mom and dad for bus fair, and before I can even finish my sentence, mom shuts me down. She doesn't even look up. Visit who? We don't have the money. Can't you see Sienna needs it? I stare at her self-righteous face and feel sick. Not a single penny for me, but money flows like water for Sienna. These are my parents. Dad sits on the couch watching TV, doesn't even turn his head and adds, "If you want to go, figure it out yourself. Don't expect anything from us." I don't say another word. I turn around and go to my room. The next morning, I head out to a construction site and find a job hauling bricks. The sun is brutal, baking down until I'm dizzy and seeing spots, but I grit my teeth and push through for 2 weeks.
That's what it takes to save up enough for the trip and something to bring Grandpa. Those two weeks are some of the hardest days of my life. I save up around a,000 yuan, just enough for the round trip and some gifts. The day scores are released happens to be Sienna's 18th birthday party. To crown herself in front of everyone at her greatest moment, she throws an extravagant banquet. Every aunt, uncle, cousin, plus our parents, co-workers, and bosses, all invited. The banquet hall buzzes with flattery. A distant relative sides up to dad with a glass of wine, grinning from ear to ear. Mr. Lynn, your family hit the jackpot.
Fraternal twins, and both of them so talented. Another relative jumps in with a hint of snark. The son just buries himself in books. No social skills, but Sienna, sweet and smart, great grades, sharp personality, a hundred times better than her brother. All the younger cousins crowd around Sienna like she's royalty. One cousin is practically green with envy. Sienna, you're amazing.
Prestige acceptance letter in one hand, hot boyfriend on the other. You're literally winning at life. Hurry, let's check the scores. We want to witness the birth of a top scorer. Hold on. If she's in the top few in the province, the admissions offices from top universities will call first to recruit her. The second those words leave someone's mouth, a phone does ring, but it's not hers, it's mine. Under the stunned gaze of the entire room, I answer call after call, admissions offices from the top universities in the country, one after another. I thank each of them politely and say, "I'll consider my options carefully." Sienna's eyes nearly pop out of her skull. She stares at her own dead silent phone. She forces a smile through gritted teeth. The best always goes last. Finally, the score portal opens.
Everyone swarms around Sienna, urging her to log in. I quietly open the page in my corner. Even though I know exactly what to expect, now that the moment is here, my palms still sweat. Mom turns to me first, her tone casual. What'd you get? I hold up my phone for everyone to see. My voice is steady. 7:41. The room erupts. I hold back the title wave inside me. Stone face. I did it. I really did it. Mom freezes for a second, gives me the tiniest nod, doesn't even bother looking twice, then lunges towards Sienna. Her voice shakes with excitement. Quick, Sienna's must be even higher. Sienna is surrounded, nowhere to hide. Her fingers tremble as she hits confirm. The next second, her face turns to stone. The expression on her face is priceless, like she just swallowed a fly. The screen glows with three red digits. 751. Sienna's voice is shaking.
The room goes dead silent. One clueless relative is still gushing with their eyes closed. Oh my. 751. 10 points higher than Marcus. Sienna really is a genius. Wait, isn't the maximum score 750? The air freezes. Sienna panics.
Cold sweat streaks through her makeup.
It has to be a system glitch. Too many people checking it once. The system crashed. She refreshes the page like a maniac, almost stabbing a hole through her screen. Once, twice, three times.
That cursed 751 is nailed to the total score like it's bolted in place. Someone suggests trying a different phone. Maybe it's a cash issue. Sienna snatches someone else's phone like it's a lifeline. The result is still 751. That one extra point slaps her across the face like a giant hand. Just then, the banquet hall doors swing open. Several officials in uniform, police and education bureau staff walk in with grim faces. The one in front scans the room.
Who is Sienna Lynn? The National Exam Board has detected a critical scoring anomaly. This is being treated as suspected system tampering or major exam fraud. You need to come with us for investigation. Sienna's legs give out.
She collapses to the floor, her face white as a ghost. Mom and dad see the officials in panic, but their first instinct isn't to comfort their daughter. It's to find a scapegoat. In the chaos, mom actually shoves me forward, pointing at me and screaming, "He did it. He's jealous of his sister.
He hacked the system and changed her score. Officers arrest him. This has nothing to do with my daughter. Here we go again. These are my parents." The second things go wrong, they throw me under the bus without a second thought.
It doesn't matter how ridiculous the excuse is, how none of it makes sense.
As long as they can protect their precious little girl, sacrificing me is nothing. Something inside me dies. And strangely, I feel lighter than ever. I shake off mom's hand and stare coldly at the circus. I'm not a hacker. I'm Marcus Lynn, the top scorer in this entire province. Sienna Lynn is right over there, the one who pulled off the miracle of 751. That's her. Dad charges at me, hand raised to slap my face. I grab his wrist. My eyes are so fierce, it stops him cold. Go ahead, try it. The officers are right behind me right now.
Top universities are fighting over me.
The media is lining up to tell my story.
Touch me, I dare you. From this moment on, nobody in this family can control me, and nobody can push me around ever again. This birthday party meant to be Sienna's crowning glory has turned into a complete disaster. Sienna is taken away for investigation. What's left behind is pure wreckage. There's no covering this up. National exam student scores 751 goes viral the same night.
It's trending everywhere. The entire internet is watching the drama unfold, laughing at the spectacle. Someone posts, "Greedier than a snake trying to swallow an elephant. She got so carried away buying her score." Another writes, "If you're going to cheat, at least use your brain. The max is 750 and you score 751. Are you mocking the graders or the system? People dig up Sienna's social media accounts and discover she spent the last 6 months doing nothing but partying. She barely studied at all.
Public opinion turns completely against Sienna. Everyone is convinced she pulled strings to change her score and accidentally bumped it 1.2 high. I scroll through the comments and feel a satisfaction I can't put into words. 18 years. I waited 18 years for this moment. Finally, everyone sees the truth. The investigation wraps up fast.
Sienna's answer sheet has anomalies. Her multiple choice section somehow scanned one point higher than anyone else's, pushing the total past the maximum.
There's no direct proof she tampered with it, but for the sake of fairness, the education bureau orders a solo retake using a backup exam paper. When the news reaches our house, Sienna is lying on the couch scrolling her phone.
The moment she hears retake, she leaps off the couch, her face going white.
What do you mean retake? Why should I have to retake it? My score is real. The system made a mistake. Dad sits nearby, face dark, hissing. Keep your voice down. The neighbors can hear. Mom paces in circles, trying to calm Sienna down while scheming a plan. Don't panic, Sienna. A retake is just a retake.
You're so smart. You'll be fine. But Sienna loses it. She throws herself on the floor, screaming and crying, demanding I take the test with her. No, I'm not doing it without Marcus. I won't. He has to be there. I need him sitting right next to me. She lunges at me and grabs my arm, her nails digging into my flesh, eyes bloodshot. Marcus, you have to take this test with me. Do you hear me? I shake her off. My voice is ice. I already took the exam. Why would I retake it with you? Sienna freezes. She stares at me in pure disbelief, like it never crossed her mind that I'd say no. Mom rushes over immediately, taking Sienna aside.
Marcus, what kind of attitude is that?
Your sister is falling apart. Can't you help her? Marcus, this is about our family's reputation. Just take the test with Sienna one more time. What's the big deal? I look at them and I find it both hilarious and pathetic. Family's reputation? That's Sienna's reputation.
It never had anything to do with me. I say, "No." I turn around, walk to my room, and lock the door behind me. They can knock all they want. They can scream all they want. I don't open it. The education bureau rejects the request, too. Obviously, in the end, Sienna takes the retake alone under full supervision.
The exam room is a conference room at the City Education Bureau. Cameras running around the clock with three proctors watching her every move, making sure nothing goes wrong this time. The result is exactly what you'd expect, a disaster. Her retake score 157. She doesn't even score as high as when she guesses randomly. Her real level was around 300 to begin with, and she spent the last 6 months dating, dreaming about being number one, and never once cracking open a book. The day the results come out, I'm on the construction site hauling bricks. A classmate sends me a message saying Sienna scored 157 on a retake. I freeze for a second. Then I laugh. I squat down on the ground laughing and can't get back up. My co-workers think I have heat stroke. One of them hands me a bottle of water. I wave it off. I'm fine. I'm just really, really happy. This retake rips off every last shred of her disguise.
First 751, then 157. The gap is so massive the internet completely explodes. The comments are pure gold.
157. Now that's her real level. Case closed. The 751 was definitely cheating.
And someone even makes a meme. 751 on one side, 157 on the other, captioned, "From heaven to hell." In one retake.
Sienna can't handle the cyber bullying.
She tries posting her pre-senior year transcripts to defend herself, but the internet digs up everything. Her mysterious jump during senior year compared to her old scores that never broke 300. You can't polish a turd.
Everyone is now dead certain she was cheating since the start of senior year.
While they're at it, they dig up my transcripts, too. Every major exam from elementary school through high school gets pulled up. Top three since day one, rock solid year after year. Now that's the real deal. Someone comments, "Are they really related? How is the gap this huge?" Another says, "One hit 750, the other can't even crack 250." I read through the comments and my feelings are complicated. I used to believe good grades would earn my parents approval, but I learned the truth. No matter how high I score, in their eyes, I will never measure up to Sienna. Because what they need isn't a talented son. They need a tool to prop up their daughter.
The teachers and classmates who once worshiped Sienna now treat her like a plague. Even our parents get whispered about wherever they go. The neighbors gossip non-stop, saying the Lynn daughter is a fraud who cheated her way through. A total disgrace. During that time, Sienna hides in her room like a pariah, too afraid to face anyone.
Curtains drawn tight, meals left at her door by mom. She refuses to see a single soul. Meanwhile, I take my acceptance letter to Prestige Medical School, pack my bags, and head back to the countryside to stay with Grandpa. Once school starts at the end of August, I'll be free for good. At least, that's what I think. Summer in the countryside is like a steam oven, but my heart is at peace. Grandpa's old house sits at the foot of the mountain. Three rooms of packed earth, an old locust tree out front, cicada screaming all day, but somehow it never bothers me. This is my real home. For as long as I can remember, I was dumped here. My parents claimed the country air was good for my health, but the truth is they just didn't want me in the way. They wanted Sienna to have all the love and all the resources to herself. One more kid meant one more competitor. Grandpa never said a bad word about my parents. He just quietly took care of me, taught me to read and write, and told me to rely on myself. The thing he said the most was, "Education is the only way out for a kid with nothing. I carve those words into my bones. I stay at the old house for over 20 days. Every morning, I wake up early and help grandpa feed the chickens. Mornings, I read in the yard.
Afternoons I walk with him through the fields. Evenings we sit under the locust tree and cool off. He tells me stories from the old days. How dad was such a troublemaker as a kid. How mom was so hardworking when she first married into the family. I listen to these unfamiliar memories like they belong to some other family because in my memory my parents were never those people. One evening we're sitting in the yard under a bright moon. Grandpa suddenly asks me how the national exam went. I think for a moment and answer honestly pretty good I think.
Grandpa nods. There's a light in his cloudy eyes. He looks up at the moon and is quiet for a while. Good is good.
That's all I need to hear. He sigh, his voice rough. Grandpa never amounted to much in this life. You're all I've got.
I lower my head. My nose stings my whole life. He's the only one who ever talked to me like this. The only one who truly wanted the best for me. Grandpa, once I finish college and get a job, I'm bringing you to live with me in the city. He waves me off, grinning like a kid. The city's not for me. Just knowing you care is enough. That night, I lie on the old brick bed in the house, listening to the sounds outside my window, thinking once the scores are out, everything will be settled. I'll show everyone. Marcus Lynn is not some pushover to be kicked around and he is nobody's stepping stone. August 12th, a little over 2 weeks until school starts.
I'm in the yard helping grandpa dry corn, spreading basket after basket of golden cobs out flat on bamboo mats. My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's mom. I freeze. She almost never calls me. The last time was before the exam, asking what score I expected. Her tone full of suspicion and calculation. I pick up.
Crying pours through the speaker. Mom's voice is horsearse and urgent. Marcus, you need to come home. Your father, he My heart drops. The winnowing tray almost slips from my hands. What happened? Which hospital? She just keeps crying. She won't answer. All she says over and over is, "Come home. Come home now." Then the line goes dead. I stand there, my mind a mess. Grandpa comes out of the house, sees the look on my face, and asks what happened. I tell him. His face changes too. He urges me to pack and go. Whatever's going on, that's your father. You have to go see him. I nod, go inside, and shove some clothes into my backpack. As I head out, grandpa chases after me and presses a cloth bundle into my hands. It's heavy. Take this. It's what grandpa saved up for emergencies. Inside is a stack of crumpled small bills and a few large ones, adding up to about 2,000 yuan.
That's his retirement money. Save penny by penny from selling eggs and vegetables. I try to give it back, but he's already turned and walked inside.
His hunched silhouette in the doorway looks so small. I clutch the bundle, eyes burning. The bus from the village to the county seat takes 2 hours. The train from the county to the city takes three. Then a transfer to the express rail. The whole trip adds up to nearly 10 hours. I buy the next available bus.
And as I sit on the bumpy ride, scenery flying past the window. My mind starts to cool down. Something's off. Way too many things don't add up. Mom's crying was over the top. Theatrical even. And she didn't say what kind of illness it was. Didn't say which hospital. Didn't even describe how serious it was. All she did was push me to come home. If dad were truly in critical condition, she would have said, "Your father's at such and such hospital. Get here now." Not just come home. Come home to the house.
If he's in the emergency room, how does she have time to sit at home and call me? And her tone. There's an urgency I can't quite place. It doesn't sound like worry for her husband. It sounds more like fear that I won't come back. The more I think, the fishier it gets. I dial dad's phone. Busy. I try again.
Still busy. I change my approach. I call one of dad's co-workers, a man I've met a few times before. I ask politely if something happened to my father. The man sounds confused. Your dad? He treated the whole office to dinner last week.
He's doing great. Why? No reason. Must have heard wrong. I make up an excuse and hang up. Just as I thought. I lean back in my seat, staring at the rolling mountains outside. The weight in my chest actually lifts. It's not that I'm heartless. I just know this family too well. If dad were actually dying, Sienna would already be all over social media crying and milking sympathy. There's no way she'd stay quiet. So, it's a trap.
Then, what do they want me back for? I spend the next few hours working it out.
The answer is obvious. Sienna, her scandal blew up too big. That 751 joke is still trending. Even if she repeats senior year, she'll never get into a decent school because without me, she's nothing. And I'm about to leave for Prestige and start a new life, cutting myself free from this swamp for good.
They won't allow that to happen. In their eyes, my only purpose is to be Sienna's stepping stone, her tool, her blood bag. Once I figure that out, I actually calm down. I even feel a quiet confidence like a hunter who's already set the trap, waiting for the prey to walk in. Except this time, the hunter and the prey are about to switch places.
If they want to play games, I'll play along to the very end. But the final script is mine to write. On the train, I use Grandpa's money to buy a cheap backup phone. I also get a power bank and charge both phones to full. I download a recording app that auto uploads to the cloud. I test it three times to make sure it works perfectly.
Then I message a few future roommates I met in the freshman group chat and briefly explain the situation. I tell them if they can't reach me for more than 48 hours, call the police. I share my live location with them. Better safe than sorry. Dude, your family is that messed up. Don't worry about it. We've got your back. Go. If anything happens, we're calling the cops immediately. Stay safe. Keep us posted. I read those messages and feel a wave of warmth.
People I've never even met are willing to help me while my own flesh and blood are trying to push me into a fire. This world is truly ironic. By the time I get home, it's the next evening. The setting sun stretches my shadow long as I stand downstairs with my suitcase, looking up at the place I lived for 12 years, but never once felt I belonged. I take a deep breath, walk upstairs, and knock.
The door opens. Mom's face appears in the doorway. Her eyes are red like she's been crying. She sees me and freezes for a second, then immediately plasters on a warm smile. Oh, Marcus, you're finally here. Come in. Come in. Her warmth is so unlike her, it gives me goosebumps. In my entire life, when has she ever been this welcoming? I walk inside without showing a thing, my eyes quickly sweeping the living room. Dad is sitting on the couch watching TV, remote control in hand, looking perfectly healthy, not a trace of illness. I stand at the entrance, still gripping my suitcase handle and ask calmly, "I thought dad was sick. Why is he sitting here watching TV?" The living room goes still for a beat. Dad glances up at me, looking a little uncomfortable. Mom's smile cracks, then she patches it up.
Oh, it was a false alarm. Your dad felt unwell yesterday, but we went to the hospital and it turned out to be nothing serious. We figured since you're leaving for school soon, we wanted you home for a proper get together. We're family after all. Family. Those two words coming from her mouth are almost laughable. I don't call her out. I just nod, say, "Okay," and slip off my shoes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sienna curled up on the other end of the couch. In her pajamas, hair a tangled mess, skin salow, dark circles like bruises under her eyes. Compared to a few months ago when she strutdded around like she owned the world, she's a completely different person. She looks up when I come in. Her eyes are complicated. resentment, fear, and something I can't quite read. I pretend I don't notice and walk straight to my room to drop off my bags. My room is at the far end of the apartment, about 150 square feet, no sunlight ever. It used to be a storage closet. They only cleared it out when I came back from Grandpa's to start school. Sienna's room faces south. The master bedroom, big and bright. That's how resources have always been divided in this house. Clear as a line in the sand. I close my door and start checking the room. desk, bookshelf, closet, under the bed, one by one, making sure nothing's been tampered with. Then, from my backpack, I pull out the backup phone, find a hidden angle, and prop it up in the clutter on my bookshelf. The camera points straight at the door. I set it to record, turn on silent mode, and make sure there's no shutter sound, no notification, nothing.
With that done, I lie down on the bed and close my eyes, but my ears are wide open, catching every sound from the living room. At dinner, mom makes a full spread and for the first time ever, calls me out to eat. She even puts food on my plate. Marcus, you've lost weight.
You're leaving soon. Eat up. I eat without tasting a thing. My mind racing, analyzing what they're really up to.
What are they planning? When will they show their teeth? After dinner, dad clears his throat like he's about to give a speech. Marcus, the reason we called you back is because there's something we want to discuss with you.
Here it comes. I look up, my face showing just the right amount of confusion. Here's the thing. Your sister hasn't been doing well lately. You know, the exam situation hit her really hard.
She's been deeply depressed. She won't even leave her room. Your mother and I talked it over. You're her brother.
You're the closest person to her. Could you spend some time with her? Help her through this. That's it. I'm waiting for them to show their true hand. Sure enough, mom picks up right where he leaves off, testing the waters. Exactly, Marcus. You two are twins. Blood is thicker than water. What's wrong with helping your sister? I still don't respond. I just watch them. The silence stretches. Then Sienna suddenly lifts her head, eyes rimmed red, staring at me. Her voice cracks. Marcus, I know I was wrong, okay? I've been thinking about it. Everything before that was all on me. I shouldn't have treated you like that. Can you just give me one more chance? I almost laugh out loud. Her acting has improved. Too bad I'm not buying it. I ask them what they really want from me. I rip the curtain right off. I don't have the patience for games. Mom and dad exchange a glance as if checking whether it's time. Finally, Dad lays his cards on the table. Marcus, here's the thing. We came up with a plan that could get Sienna into college, too.
I raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. Sienna told us about the exam score situation, that 10-point pattern.
You probably understand it better than we do. There's some kind of special connection between you two. As long as you're there, she scores high. My heart jolts. She actually told them the secret. Dad stands up and walks over to me, his tone leaving no room for argument. So, your mother and I discussed it. How about you hold off for a year? Repeat senior year and take the exam again with Sienna next year. She'll get into a great school, too. Two kids from one family at Prestige. Wouldn't that bring glory to the whole family? I stare at them, not because the request is absurd, though it is. What stuns me is how righteous they sound saying it, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. As if throwing away my future so Sienna can have one is just expected.
Mom presses the advantage, moves in closer, grabs my hand, her eyes glinting with calculation. Marcus, this doesn't hurt you at all. You're so smart. You'll definitely get in again next year. With the fame of being a top scorer, plus another year of prep, the top universities will be fighting over you.
And Sienna gets a bright future, too.
All four of us successful. Isn't that a win for everyone? A win for everyone.
What a joke. I already have my acceptance letter. Why on earth would I repeat a year? Dad waves his hand dismissively. The acceptance letter? So what? If you don't show up, it expires on its own. Marcus, you're the older brother. What's wrong with giving your sister a hand? Once Sienna is successful, she won't forget you. You'll get your share of her earnings. I've just heard the funniest joke in human history. I say two words. I refuse. The room turns to ice. Dad's face darkens.
Mom freezes. Sienna's head snaps up and the pleading in her eyes turns to something cold and vicious. Dad rises to his feet, towers over me, threat lacing his voice. Marcus, what kind of attitude is this? We're trying to have a civil conversation and you just shut it down because there's nothing to discuss. I stand up too, staring them down. You want me to give up prestige you to babysit someone who scored 157 on the national exam, then use my score to carry her into a top university. Why should I? Mom shrieks. Because she's your sister and you're her brother.
Helping your sister is what brothers do.
I've been helping her for 18 years. You gave her everything since the day we were born. You dumped me in the countryside and forgot I existed. Now she's destroyed herself and suddenly you remember you have a son. You want me to throw away my future to clean up her mess? Dad slams the table. The dishes jump. Marcus, watch your attitude. What attitude? This attitude. I'm not doing it. I turn and walk toward my room.
Behind me, Sienna screams hysterically.
Marcus, how dare you? Those points were supposed to be mine without me. What are you? I stop. I turn around. I look at her twisted face. Sienna, listen carefully. Every single point I earned, I wrote with my own hand. It has nothing to do with you. That you can leech off my score is your dumb luck, not your talent, and definitely not your leverage to threaten me. Sienna chokes. She can't find a single word. Tears spill down her face from anger or desperation. I can't tell. Mom charges over, stands in front of Sienna, pointing at me. Marcus, you made your sister cry like this. Do you have any conscience at all? I look her in the eye. Do you? I'm done arguing. I walk into my room and lock the door behind me. Outside, things start crashing. Dad's cursing. Mom's wailing.
Sienna's shrieking. All tangled together like a pot boiling over. I lean against the door, close my eyes, and let the noise wash over me. My mind is strangely calm. Tonight is just round one. The real fight is still coming. I have a feeling they won't give up this easily.
Let them try. I've got all the patience in the world. That night, I don't sleep.
Eyes locked on the ceiling, ears on high alert. A little after 2:00 in the morning, I hear rustling outside my door, whispered voices. I hold my breath and listen. It's mom and dad. Mom's voice is barely a whisper, but I catch every word. Let's do it while he's asleep. Take his stuff. Without his ID and his acceptance letter, he can't go anywhere. Look, his lights's already off. He's definitely asleep. We do it tonight. No more waiting. Footsteps approach my door. My heart pounds faster, but I don't move a muscle. I lie perfectly still, faking deep sleep. The door handle turns slowly. Thank god I locked it. Mom curses under her breath outside. He locked the damn door. Forget it. We'll deal with it tomorrow. He's not going anywhere anyway. The footsteps fade. I open my eyes and stare into the dark. A cold smile forming inside, just as I thought. They never planned to let me leave. The second I walked through that door, I stepped into their trap.
But what they don't know is I came prepared. This chess game, it's far from over. The next morning, I try the door handle, locked from the outside. My stomach sinks. I walk to the window and look out. Security bars welded solid. No way out. My phone still has signal, but the Wi-Fi is cut. I use my mobile data to text my roommates. I tell them I'm alive, that I'm okay for now, but things are bad. I ask them to stay on standby.
Around 10:00 in the morning, the lock clicks. Mom walks in holding a bowl of kanji. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
Hungry? Eat something. Have you come to your senses yet? I don't take the bowl.
She sets it on the desk size and her voice takes on an edge. Marcus, let me give you some advice. A smart person knows when to give in. So what if you got into prestige? Who's paying for tuition, for food, for rent? You think we'll give you a single scent? You won't even be able to afford school. You'll come crawling right back. I look at her.
I say nothing. She takes my silence is wavering and pushes harder. That acceptance letter of yours might not even be around much longer. If you behave and repeat the year, we'll fully support you next time. But if you don't, she trails off. The threat hangs in the air. I still don't speak. After she leaves, I hear the lock click shut again. From this moment on, I'm officially under house arrest. The first day, I manage to stay calm. By the second day, the anxiety kicks in. Not from fear. From the clock ticking. The start of school is creeping closer. I have to find a way out. On the third night, I decide to take a risk. 2:00 in the morning, everyone's asleep. I slip out of bed and use the file on a nail clipper to pick the lock. It's an old springbolt. It takes me about 10 minutes, and then I hear a soft click.
The door opens. I hold my breath and inch forward step by step. The living room is pitch black. I feel my way along the wall toward the front door. Heart hammering so loud I can feel it in my throat. The floor caks under my feet.
Every creek. I freeze and listen. No one moving. Then I keep going. Just as my fingers are about to touch the front door handle. The lights snap on. I freeze. Dad is standing at the end of the hallway holding a wooden stick. His face like stone. He's been waiting for me. I try to bolt. No time to explain. I spin around and run, but it's too late.
He closes the gap in three strides and the stick crashes across my back. The pain drops me flat on the ground. Then it's a storm. I curl up and shield my head. The stick comes down again and again. Each hit drilling into my bones.
Try running. Try disobeying me. I'll beat the ungrateful out of you. Mom and Sienna appear at some point, standing off to the side watching. Neither of them says a word to stop him. Sienna even has a small satisfied smile on her face. Dad finally tires himself out, panting hard. Let me make this clear, Marcus. For the rest of your life, don't even think about leaving this house. Not unless you agree to repeat the year. I lie on the ground shaking. Not from fear, from rage. 18 years of holding back nearly erupts out of my chest, but I hold it in. Not yet. I don't have enough evidence. My backup plan isn't in position yet. They drag me back to my room and throw me on the bed. The door is locked again with a new padlock. This time, hung from the outside. No picking this one. I lie on my bed, my back burning with pain. But the pain only sharpens my mind. Marcus, what's the rush? You've waited 18 years. A few more days won't matter. Let them have their little victory. Once you've collected enough evidence, none of them escape.
Over the next 2 days, I play along. No more escape attempts. I eat when they bring food. I sleep when it's time. On the surface, I look broken. Mom and dad think the beating worked. Their guard drops slightly, but the door stays locked. I still can't get out. I use these two days to study their routines.
I memorize when each of them goes to sleep. When they get up, every detail logged in my mind, waiting for the perfect moment. On the fourth night, they finally make their move. At 2:07 in the morning, I hear the lock click. Not the tentative kind. Someone is unlocking the door. My eyes stay shut. My breathing stays even. I fake deep sleep, but every nerve in my body is on fire.
The door swings open. The footsteps are soft like they're afraid to wake me. Two people I can tell from their breathing.
One is mom. The other is dad. They creep to my desk and start rifling through everything. I hold my sleeping pose, but my heart races on its own. I know exactly what they're looking for. My national ID and my acceptance letter.
Those two things are my keys out of this hell and their leverage to keep me trapped. The rumaging goes on for several minutes. I hear mom whisper, "I can't find them. Where do you think he hid them?" Dad mutters impatiently. Keep looking. They've got to be in this room.
It's not like he can leave. They tear through every desk drawer, rip through the bookshelf, dig through my backpack, even pat down every pocket of my clothes. I feel someone walk to my bedside, and stand there, probably deciding whether to check under my pillow. Then a third voice comes from the doorway. Sienna, did you find them?
Shh. Don't wake him up. Sienna marches in, her footsteps way louder than our parents. She obviously doesn't care if I hear her. I feel her standing right next to my bed, staring down at me, her gaze cold as a snakes. I can almost feel her breath on my face. Then her voice cuts through the dark, ice cold and certain.
Drop the act. I know you're awake. I don't move. I keep my breathing steady, but inside I'm cursing. This psycho has terrifyingly sharp instincts. Sienna doesn't bother pressing the point. She just joins the search. Her movements are far rougher than our parents. Things get thrown everywhere. Books yanked off the shelf one by one. Drawers ripped out entirely. I hid my national ID in a secret pocket sewn into my pillowcase.
And the acceptance letter was folded tiny and stitched into the lining of my suitcase. I thought they'd never find them, but I underestimated Sienna's obsession. She rips my pillow away and starts feeling every inch of the pillowcase, running her fingers over it like a drug search, missing nothing.
When her hand hits the hidden pocket, she freezes. Then, she lets out a gleeful shriek. Found it. My chest tightens, but I still don't move. Next, she lunges at my suitcase like a wild animal, dumping everything out, then starts tearing at the lining. The sound of fabric ripping is piercing. Her nails claw across the lining until she feels something hard. I can't hold back anymore. I bolt upright and slam the bedside lamp switch. Light floods the room. Everyone squints. I see it all clearly now. Dad and mom stand by the desk holding my national ID. They look slightly guilty but mostly righteous.
Sienna stands by the suitcase clutching an envelope. The envelope that holds my acceptance letter. Her face looks like she just struck gold. Greedy, thrilled.
I stare at all three of them, my voice like ice. I ask them what they're doing in the middle of the night. They exchange a look, then they drop the act.
Dad slaps my ID onto the desk, bold as brass. Marcus, we're done playing nice.
Sienna told us everything. As long as you're around, she scores high. That's just how it works between you two.
Accept it. Mom steps closer. Calculation and threats swirling in her eyes.
Marcus, listen to me. One more year won't hurt you. You're smart enough to get in again next year. And then Sienna gets into college, too. Two kids from one family at top universities. Isn't that a win for everyone? I said, "No." I stand up to grab back my ID, but dad shoves me away. He's stronger than I expected. I stagger back two steps and crash into the wall. The wounds on my back scream with pain. Dad leans in close, his voice a cold threat. You're saying no? You think you have a choice?
Starting today, you're going nowhere.
Without your ID and your letter, you can't get to prestige. You You'll stay home and repeat the year. After you take the exam next year, everything goes back to normal. You still go to your precious school. Nobody loses. Nobody loses.
Forcing me to waste a year wrecking my entire plan, turning me into a stepping stone for someone who can't even score 200 on her own. And nobody loses. I take a deep breath and push the rage down.
Now is not the time to explode. I need more evidence. I ask them. So, you came here tonight to confiscate my things?
Mom sneers. She doesn't even bother pretending anymore. Confiscate?
Everything in this house is under your parents authority. You're still a child.
What's wrong with us holding on to something as important as your ID? I look at Sienna. She's pulling the acceptance letter out of the envelope, her face glowing with the satisfaction of revenge. She holds the letter up like a trophy. Then she does something I will never forget as long as I live. She grips the letter, her eyes burning with crazed hatred, and right in front of me, slowly, deliberately tears it in half.
rip. The sound is crisp and piercing, like something snapping apart. She's not done. She tears the halves again and again until it's a pile of fragments drifting to the floor like snowflakes.
Her movements are slow, savoring every second. With each rip, her smirk grows a little wider. I stare at the pieces on the floor. My mind goes blank for a second. That letter was 12 years of sacrifice, countless nights of grinding through problems, the starting point of my new life, and she just shredded it to pieces. Sienna watches my face and laughs like a maniac. The letter's gone.
I'd like to see you try to register now, Marcus. You'll be my stepping stone for the rest of your life. I want you to rot in the mud with me. She gets more and more worked up, her whole body shaking, hair wild, looking like a ghost. Why do you get to be better than me? Why does everyone praise you? Why do you get to go to prestige while I'm stuck here being laughed at? Those scores were supposed to be mine. Tears stream down her face, but they're not tears of sadness. They're fury, jealousy, madness. But then her voice suddenly drops. Half talking to herself, half talking to me. Do you have any idea how scared I've been? My whole life I've known my grades were fake, stolen from you. Her face twists as she confesses.
Before every exam, she was terrified.
Terrified I'd skip a test one day or bomb one and everyone would find out she was a fraud. Through her sobs, she spits the word hate. I hate that you're smarter and more hardworking. You act like it costs you nothing to score that high. I hate myself even more. Without you, I'm nothing, so you can't leave.
You have to stay. You have to be my stepping stone forever. That's the only way I survive. I look at her at this person I've called my sister for 18 years. For the first time, I feel pity.
But pity is not a reason to forgive. And pity is not an excuse for her to destroy my life. Dad and mom stand to the side watching Sienna's breakdown. Neither of them lifts a finger to stop her. If anything, there's approval on their faces as if she just did something admirable. Looking at this scene, I feel the absurdity hit me and the sadness.
These are my family members. This is what blood is thicker than water looks like. I lower my head, staring at the shredded pieces on the floor. My shoulders start to tremble. They think I'm crying. They think I've broken. Mom lets out a mocking laugh, her tone dripping with condescension. Oh, stop crying. It's not a big deal. Just take the exam again next year. Consider this a lesson. Be more obedient from now on.
I say nothing. I just crouch down and start picking up the pieces with shaking hands. Sienna watches me scramble on the floor, her grin spreading even wider.
Cry. Keep crying. You deserve it. This is your fate. I lift my head and look at her. She freezes because there are no tears in my eyes. only ice cold hatred and a flash of a smile that vanishes in an instant. That smile scares her. She takes a step back instinctively and asks what I'm smiling about. I slowly rise to my feet. My voice is horsearo but calm.
Nothing. I was just thinking that performance was incredible. If things don't work out for you, try acting. I stop there. Instead, I collapse onto the edge of the bed, faking despair. My eyes go hollow. I mutter, "It's over. It's all over." Sienna watches me and her guard slowly drops. Victory takes its place. Scared now. Should have thought of that sooner. Dad scoffs, slides my ID into his own pocket. All right, everyone back to bed. Starting today, this kid isn't going anywhere. The three of them file out of my room like they've just finished a mission. Before she leaves, mom locks the door from the outside. The click of the lock is quiet, but it hits me like a thunderclap. I'm locked in again. The room sinks back into darkness. I sit on the edge of the bed, listening to their footsteps fade, listening to the house settle into silence. Then I stand up, walk to the bookshelf, and pull the backup phone from the pile of junk. Its red recording light is still glowing. They never thought to check it. They tore the whole room apart, but overlooked a pile of clutter they assumed was trash. The camera caught everything. Sienna ripping the acceptance letter to shreds. Our parents watching coldly from the side, even encouraging her. Their own words confessing the entire plot. It's all on this video. I upload it to the cloud.
Backup. Backup. And back up again.
Bulletproof. Then I edit a short version and post it online with a caption. This is the family I'm trying to escape.
After that, I dial the police. I need to report a crime. My family is holding me against my will. The dispatcher asks for my address and details. I answer everything. She says officers are on the way. Just hang tight. After the call, I switch the phone to silent, tuck it back into the junk pile, and lie down again.
My heart is pounding, but on the surface, I have to stay calm. I don't know how long it'll take for the police to arrive or what will happen before they get here. But I know that if I survive tonight, everything changes. The minutes crawl by. The sky outside begins to lighten. My eyes stay open, locked on the ceiling, ears catching every tiny sound in the house. 4:23. I hear footsteps. Sienna's. Her steps are light, like she's trying not to wake anyone, but in the dead silence, they're crystal clear. She stops outside my door. I hold my breath. Don't move a muscle. The lock clicks. She's back. I keep my eyes shut, faking sleep. My heartbeat pounds in my ears like a drum.
She walks to my bed and stands there. I can feel her eyes on me, full of suspicion and doubt. Then she starts moving around the room, her footsteps drifting near and far, like a predator patrolling its territory. I don't know what she's looking for, but I have a terrible feeling. The footsteps stop at the bookshelf. My chest seizes. I hear rumaging. She's digging through the pile of junk. My fingers secretly clench the blanket. My mind races. If she finds the phone, what do I do? Suddenly, the rumaging stops. The air freezes. I can almost hear my own heartbeat. What's this? I know she found it. It's over. My eyes snap open. I sit bold upright. I see the backup phone in her hand. The red recording dot still glowing on the screen. Her face shifts from confusion to shock, then to pure rage. Marcus, you've been recording. She screams and lunges at me like a rabid animal. I don't have time to dodge. Her nails rake straight across my face, burning pain. I grab her wrist. We wrestle, tangled together. She may be a girl, but right now she's fighting like she's possessed.
Her strength is terrifying. We knock over the nightstand. The lamp crashes to the floor, shattering everywhere. The noise is loud enough to wake our parents instantly. Dad storms in, sees the scene, and shoves me away. The back of my skull hits the wall. "You dare hit your sister?" I clutch my head, gasping.
I didn't hit her. She attacked me first.
Sienna is already back on her feet, still gripping the phone. She runs behind Dad like she's found a shield.
Dad, he was secretly recording. He recorded everything. Dad's face changes instantly. He snatches the phone, looks down at the screen, and his expression gets darker and darker. Veins bulge on his forehead. Marcus, you're really something. Really something. He hurls the phone at the floor. The screen shatters. He stomps on it over and over until it's nothing but a mangled pile of metal. I watched the destroyed phone without a shred of panic because the video was uploaded to the cloud a long time ago. This phone is just an empty shell, but I don't let that show.
Instead, I put on a look of total despair, as if my last lifeline just got ripped away. Mom rushes in, takes one look, and her face goes dark. This ungrateful brat tried to call the cops on us. He wants to send us all to jail.
He was definitely going to put that video online just like he exposed Sienna. Without another word, Dad slaps me across the face. My cheek swells up instantly. I taste blood at the corner of my mouth. Listen here, Marcus. This isn't over. You sit here and don't move.
Don't even think about going anywhere.
Call the cops or post anything online and I'll break your legs. He storms out, cursing, telling mom to keep an eye on me. Mom stands in the doorway. Marcus, you really let me down. Everything we're doing is for this family. Why can't you understand that? Think about what you've done. She leaves, too. The door locks from outside again. This time, she pushes something against it. I hear a chair scraping across the floor. The room is mine alone now. Wreckage everywhere. I lean against the wall, touching my swollen face, and think they have no idea the police are already on the way. They have no idea the video is already online. They think smashing one phone solves everything. They have no clue. The real storm is just getting started. Time keeps ticking. The sky grows brighter. I hear birds outside.
Around 6, I hear dad's phone ring. Then his panicked voice. What video? Who posted it? Then mom's shrill scream and Sienna's wailing. The whole house erupts into chaos. I know. The video went viral. Sometime later, maybe half an hour, maybe an hour, I hear knocking.
Loud urgent knocking and shouting. Open the door. This is the police. Someone called in a report. Dad's voice echoes from the living room, panicked and guilty. Police? Who called them? What do we do? Don't panic. Hide the kid. Just say he's not home. I listen from my room. Hide me. Where? The knocking gets louder. Open this door now or we will use force. Dad finally caves. I hear the front door open, followed by a rush of voices. I can't make out the words, but I can tell dad is trying to explain, trying to talk his way out of it. A few minutes later, the barricade outside my door is removed. The door opens. Two uniformed officers stand in the doorway.
The moment they see me, their brows furrow. The younger one walks over. Are you Marcus Lynn, the one who called? I nod. He looks at the scratches on my face, the swollen corner of my mouth, then scans the wreckage of the room. His expression turns serious. You're injured. Who did this? My father. From the living room, dad's voice rings out, angry and nervous. Officer, this is a family matter. I was just disciplining my son. What's wrong with that? The older officer turns and gives him a look. A family matter. Unlawful detention and restricting someone's freedom is a family matter. We received a report that someone was being locked inside their home by family members. And we also received a video. Take a look for yourself and tell me this is a family matter. The screen plays the exact video I recorded. My parents and Sienna tearing through my belongings.
Sienna ripping the acceptance letter apart in a frenzy. Their own words spoken aloud. All of it crystal clear.
Dad's face goes white. Mom's legs nearly give out. She almost collapses on the spot. Sienna hides in a corner. Hair a mess. Eyes vacant like a bug that's been crushed. Marcus, can you walk? We need you to come to the station for a statement. I nod, stand up, and step over the debris toward the door. As I pass Dad, he reaches out to stop me, but an officer pushes his arm away. You are now suspected of unlawful detention and assault. Cooperate. Dad's hand hangs frozen in the air, his face twisted like he swallowed a fly, furious, scared, helpless. I don't look at him. I walk straight out that door. Behind me, mom wales. Marcus, you can't do this to us.
We're your parents. How are we supposed to show our faces after this? I stop.
You stopped treating me like a person a long time ago. Now it's your turn to know how that feels. Mom freezes like she's seeing me for the first time.
Sienna suddenly rushes at me. Marcus, you'll regret this. I'll never let you go. Just wait. I look at her twisted face and say one thing calmly. Sienna, remember this. From today, we are done.
For good. Then I turn around, get into the police car, and don't look back. By the time I finish giving my statement at the station, it's already noon. Based on the video evidence and your injuries, your father is suspected of assault and unlawful detention. He will be dealt with according to the law. As for Sienna, destroying someone else's personal property. Even though the acceptance letter was issued by the school, it belongs to you. She'll face legal consequences for that, too. What about my acceptance letter? Can it be reissued? The officer says, "I'll need to contact the school and they'll provide supporting documents to help." I nod and say, "Thank you." Walking out of the station, the sunlight is blinding. I stand on the steps, squinting up at the sky. It feels like waking up from the longest nightmare of my life. Finally awake, my phone rings. A strange number.
I pick up. A familiar voice comes through. Marcus, is that you? Are you okay? We saw the video. His voice is urgent. I can hear other people talking in the background. The roommates, all of them. I'm fine. I already called the police. Cheers erupt on the other end.
Nolan's voice breaks through. Thank God, man. We were worried. Sick. Where are you? Want us to come get you? I smile.
No need. I hang up. I stand there thinking for a long time. What now? My ID is with dad. My letter is in shreds.
I have no money, nowhere to go. But I'm not worried at all because the hardest step is already behind me. Everything else is just paperwork. I can go to the school and explain. get the letter reissued, get a new ID at the station, apply for a student loan to cover tuition. These problems all have solutions. The only thing that couldn't be fixed was my family. And now I've cut that poison out with my own hands. I go to the station and get a temporary ID. I use my last bit of money to buy a train ticket to the city. By the time I board, it's already evening. Sunset pours through the window onto my seat. I lean against the glass, watching the scenery fly past. A feeling I've never known washes over me. Lightness. Freedom. So this is what freedom feels like. I close my eyes and fall asleep. It's the most peaceful sleep I've had in weeks. No nightmares, no jolting awake, just a long, gentle darkness. When I wake up, the train has arrived. I drag my small bag out of the station. In front of me stands an unfamiliar city. Skyscrapers, nothing like that suffocating little town. There's something in the air I can't quite name. Hope, future, the scent of a new life. I find the cheapest motel I can and check in. Then I start contacting the school to explain my situation. The admissions officer is shocked by my story and says they'll process everything as fast as possible.
They tell me not to worry. 3 days later, I'm holding a brand new acceptance letter. The same red cover as the old one, but it means something completely different now. I press it to my chest and stand at the school gate, looking up at the sign that reads Prestige University. My eyes sting. For as long as I can remember, I was dumped in the countryside, ignored, neglected, treated like I didn't exist. I thought my whole life would be lived in Sienna's shadow, her stepping stone forever. But now I'm here, standing at the gates of the top university in the country on my own strength. No one dragging me down anymore. My life from this moment on truly belongs to me and me alone. On the first day of school, I meet the roommates I've been chatting with online. Dererick is tall with dark skin, clearly a sports guy. Nolan wears glasses, quiet and studious, admitted through a competition scholarship. And then there's Miles, a man of few words, but solid. The first thing they say to me is, "So, you're the Marcus from that video? You're way better looking in person. I don't know whether to laugh or cry." "Betterl looking? My face hasn't even healed yet." Nolan leans in for a closer look and frowns. still bruised.
They really went at you. Miles doesn't say anything. He just quietly pulls a tube of ointment from his bag and hands it to me for the swelling. I take it, warmth spreading through my chest. I say, "Thanks." That night, the four of us sit in our dorm and talk for hours.
They ask me what happened after. The police are still handling it. I don't know the outcome yet. Nolan sigh. Man, you've been through a lot. Miles, still quiet, pours me a glass of water. Later, we talk about our majors, clubs, and plans for the next four years. Normal college kid stuff. It suddenly hits me.
This is what a normal life looks like.
This is what being 18 is supposed to feel like. That night, I lie in my dorm bed listening to my roommate snoring, gazing at the moonlight outside. I think of grandpa of what he always said.
Education is the only way out for a kid with nothing. Grandpa, I made it. I call him, tell him I've arrived at school, that everything is good. On the other end, he's so happy he can barely speak.
He just keeps repeating, "Good, good, good. You made it. You really made it."
I don't tell him what happened. I don't want him to worry. I just say the campus is big and beautiful and the cafeteria food is great. He sounds thrilled. He tells me to study hard and not to worry about him. He's doing just fine. After hanging up, I lie back down and think.
Once I'm able, I'll bring grandpa to live with me. Give him the good life he deserves. I owe him that. He's the only family I ever want to repay. College life unfolds one step at a time.
Military training, classes, clubs. Busy and full. I throw myself into studying and competitions, desperate to prove myself and to make up for all those lost years. A month later, I get a notice from the police. Dad is sentenced to 3 months detention for unlawful imprisonment and assault, suspended for 6 months. Mom gets 15 days administrative detention as an accomplice. Sienna is fined for destruction of personal property and order to pay damages. Light sentences, but for them, it's more than enough because that video destroys their reputation completely. Dad loses his job. Mom can't step outside without people whispering and pointing. And Sienna, well, her name becomes a punchline on the internet. 751 plus ripping up an acceptance letter from the top university in the country. Those two things are enough to publicly ruin her for life. I hear she later develops mental health problems. She gets sent to see a therapist. I don't know the details and I don't want to. They try to reach me. Calls, texts, all begging me to forgive them to drop the charges to take down the video. I ignore every single one. Eventually, they give up and the silence settles in. That chapter of my life is a drawer I lock shut and never plan to open. Days turn into years. Freshman, sophomore, junior year.
I keep my grades in the top three of my class. Earn scholarships. join the party and publish two academic papers.
Everyone says Marcus has a bright future ahead. I smile and stay humble, but I know these achievements are bought with everything I have. Every late night, every wave of exhaustion is one more step away from that swamp. The summer after junior year, I go back to see grandpa. He has aged so much. His back is more bent, his hair completely white, but his spirit is strong. When he sees me, he lights up like a child. I sit with him in the yard just like when I was little. He shells peanuts for me. I tell him about school. The sun is warm.
The locust tree casts long shadows on the ground. Grandpa suddenly asks, "Are you still in touch with your parents?"
"No." He goes quiet for a moment, then sigh. "They're still your parents no matter what. No matter how badly they acted. They're the ones who gave you life." Grandpa, I understand what you mean. But some things can't just be forgiven on command. They hurt me too deeply. Grandpa doesn't push it. I won't force you. You have your own mind. As long as you're doing well, that's enough for me. That night, I lie on the old brick bed. Same as when I was a boy. But my heart is completely different now.
The insects outside are still loud as ever, but I find them strangely comforting. This is my only home.
Grandpa is my only family. Everyone else is already dead to me. Senior year, I get admitted to graduate school without the entrance exam. I stay at Prestige U for my master's degree and receive internship offers from several major companies. Everything is moving in the right direction. On graduation day, I stand at the school gate in my cap and gown and ask my roommates to take a photo. The same prestige university sign behind me exactly like 4 years ago. But I am no longer the battered kid who first stood here. I am taller, stronger.
The darkness in my eyes has been replaced by confidence. The scars are still there, but they have healed over.
No more bleeding, just reminders of the road I've walked. Dererick throws his arm around my shoulder. So, what's the plan now, Marcus? Grad school first, then work, then bring Grandpa to live with me. Sounds perfect. Dinner's on you when that happens. Deal. That day, the four of us drink way too much, talk about the past and the future, and pass out in the dorm. The next morning, my head is killing me, but my heart is full. Youth slips away just like that.
Four years of college closed. A new chapter begins. During graduate school, I am busier than ever. Classes and internships leave almost no room to breathe. But I love every minute of it.
Because with each busy day, I move a little further from the person I used to be. The winter of my second year, Grandpa passes away in his sleep.
Peaceful, no pain. Someone from the village calls me while I am in the lab running an experiment. The moment I hear the news, the test tube slips from my hand and shatters on the floor. I take leave and rush home overnight. I push open the door of the old house. A coffin sits in the main room. Grandpa lies inside wearing the navy blue cotton coat I bought him. A faint trace of a smile on his face. I kneel before the coffin.
No sound comes out, just tears that won't stop. The elders call it a peaceful passing at old age. They say grandpa lived past 80. His grandson turned out well. He went quietly. A blessed life, they say. But I don't want blessings. I just want him to stay a few more years until the first start working, earning money, bringing him to the city to live in a real house, eating good food. I haven't done any of it yet.
How can he be gone? On the day of the burial, it is snowing. I carry grandpa's ashes myself and bury them on the hillside behind the old house. From up there, you can see the whole village and that old locust tree. I stand at his grave for a long time until the snow turns my shoulders white. Grandpa, just wait. I will make something of myself.
I'll make you proud. Wherever you are, the wind carries my words away. But I know he hears them. After the funeral, I go back to school. I bury all the grief deep inside and push harder than ever. I will make it. That is my promise to grandpa and my promise to myself. In my final year, I graduate with honors and receive offers from several top companies. I choose a tech giant.
Starting salary, 500,000 yuan a year.
For a kid who came from a village, that is a number I never dared dream of. On my first day at work, I stand below that gleaming office tower, look up at the blue sky, and think, "Grandpa, I did it." After I start working, I rent a small one-bedroom apartment, clean and neat. Not big, but mine. I put Grandpa's photo on my desk. Every morning before leaving, I look at it and say good morning. Every night when I come home, I tell him about my day. Simple days, but solid. 3 years later, I buy an apartment. 30-year mortgage, just over 10,000 a month. Not easy, but manageable. The place isn't big. Two bedrooms, one living room, but it is more than enough. The day I move in, I stand at the window looking down at the busy streets below. I suddenly think of that boy from years ago, locked in the storage room. That boy never could have imagined that one day he would own an apartment in this city, hold a respectable career, have real friends who truly care, and own a brand new life. Life dealt me the worst hand. But I played it into a winning one. That evening, I pour myself a drink, raise it to grandpa's photo, and say, "You were right, Grandpa. Education really is the only way out for a kid with nothing." I walked out. The moonlight outside is bright, just as bright as that summer night so many years ago. Grandpa sitting under the old locust tree, telling me stories. It feels like yesterday. Life goes on, quiet and steady. Work is going well. I meet up with my old roommates now and then, simple but full, until one day the calm shatters. It is a weekend in my fourth year on the job. I am home reading when my phone rings. Unknown number. I hesitate then pick up. An old unfamiliar woman's voice comes through.
Is this Marcus? Yes. Who is this? She pauses then says something that sends a chill through my whole body. I'm your grandmother. Grandmother. That word feels so foreign to me. So foreign I've almost forgotten she exists. Marcus, can you come to the hospital? Your mother?
She's not going to make it. I go silent for a long time. My mind goes completely blank. Grandma's voice cracks. Marcus, your mother. I know they wronged you, but she's your mother. She's on her last breath. She wants to see you one final time. What happened to her? Latestage liver cancer. By the time they found it, it had already spread. The doctors say she has days. I lean back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. I don't know what to say. 7 years since that day. I haven't seen any of them. Not one phone call, not a single text. I thought we would never cross paths again. I never imagined this would be the reason.
Grandma waits on the line. I can hear her muffled crying. Send me the address.
I hang up and sit on the couch for a long time. My mind is a mess. Memories flood back. Those days locked in that room. Those nights of beatings and screaming. That shredded acceptance letter. Those wounds scarred over long ago, but now they ache again. Should I go? The question haunts me all day. In the end, I decide to go, not to forgive, just to put a period at the end of this chapter. The next day, I take off work and drive to the hospital, a municipal hospital. I find the ward using the address grandma sent. The moment I push open the door, I see her. Mom lying in the hospital bed, thin beyond recognition. Skin yellow as wax, nothing but bones, her hair sparse and gray. A completely different person from the sharp tonged woman of 7 years ago.
Grandma sees me and rushes over, grabbing my hand. Marcus, you came. You came. That's all that matters. She keeps repeating herself. I say nothing. I just stand by the bed, looking down at the dying woman. Mom opens her eyes. Her clouded gaze finds my face. Her lips move. A faint whisper. Marcus. Tears suddenly well in her eyes, running down her hollow cheeks. She tries to raise her hand but doesn't have the strength.
She just trembles. You came. You actually came to see me. I don't respond. I just stand there. My heart is strangely calm. No hatred, no sadness, just a numbness I can't name. Mom speaks in broken fragments, her voice barely squeezed from her throat. Marcus, I'm sorry. All these years I've wanted to find you, to tell you I was sorry, but I couldn't face you. She coughs several times. Grandma rushes over to pat her back. I stand to the side, still not moving. It takes mom a long time to catch her breath. She continues, "I've done so many wrong things in my life.
The person I wronged the most is you. I always favored your sister, abandoned you in the countryside, and never looked back. I'm not even human. Stop." But she grows more and more agitated, as if spending the very last of her strength.
She locks her eyes on me, her gaze filled with desperation and pleading.
Marcus, can you forgive me? I know I don't deserve it, but before I go, I just want to hear you call me mom. One time, the room goes deathly quiet. Only the steady beep of the heart monitor fills the silence. I look at her, at this woman who gave me life but never gave me love. At her withered shell of a body, a wave of complicated emotions rises inside me. Do I hate her? I did.
Those nights locked in the storage room.
Those years of being invisible. The moment my dream was ripped apart with her blessing. Every single scene is carved into my bones. But standing here now, looking at this woman on the edge of death, I realize the hatred faded a long time ago. Not forgiveness, indifference. I speak, my voice is calm.
I don't hate you anymore. Mom freezes.
But I can't forgive you either. I continue. You ask me to call you mom. I can't. All these years, there has never been a place in my heart for the word mom. Only grandpa. Mom's body shakes violently as if her last threat of strength is pulled out. Her mouth opens, but only broken sobs come out. Grandma panics, grabbing my hand. Marcus, please just say it once. Let her go in peace. I shake my head and turn to leave. At the doorway, mom's horse cry reaches me from behind. Marcus, I was wrong. I was truly wrong. I stop. I don't turn around. I stand there for a few seconds. Then I push through the door and walk out. The hallway is quiet. I lean against the wall, eyes closed, breathing deep. My heart is racing, but I have no regrets.
I sit on a bench outside the hospital for a long time. Smoke half a pack.
Watch people come and go. Some walk in crying. Some walk out smiling. Birth, aging, sickness, death. That's all there is. My phone rings. Grandma. I hesitate then answer. Her voice is exhausted.
Marcus, don't blame me for asking you to come. Your mother really is at the end.
I know what they did was wrong, but she truly regrets it. These past few years, she never stops talking about you. I stay silent. After what happened, she never sleeps a peaceful night. Your father loses his job. He drinks all day.
The two of them fight constantly. They end up divorcing. And your sister, the family falls apart completely. I ask, "What happened to Sienna?" Grandma is quiet for a moment. Don't even bring it up. That girl is ruined. After everything blew up, the shock broke something in her. It keeps getting worse. She's in a psychiatric facility now. Good days and bad days. I listen. I feel nothing. No satisfaction, no sympathy, just the quiet certainty that karma is real. Marcus, I know, but your mother really only has days left. Can't you go see her? Grandma, I came. I saw her. That's all I can give. Grandma cries on the other end. How can your heart be so hard? It's not that my heart is hard. It was broken by them a long time ago. You should ask them what they did to me back then. Grandma goes silent. After a long pause, she sigh.
All right, I won't push you. You have your own life. Just take care of yourself. I hang up, sit on the bench a while longer, then drive home. 3 days later, Grandma calls again. She tells me mom is gone. She was still murmuring my name at the very end. I listen and say I understand. I ask when the funeral is the day after tomorrow. I tell her I'll be there. After hanging up, I stand at the window looking out at the city lights. I can't name what I feel. A small ache maybe, but mostly relief. The woman who gave birth to me is gone. Yet, I feel no grief for a lost mother. Only the feeling that the dust has finally settled, like a book finally turned to its last page. No matter how terrible the story, at least it is over. On the day of the funeral, I go. I stand in the crowd looking at mom's portrait. The photo is from 7 years ago before the illness. That sharp cutting smile on her face. Not many people come. A few distant relatives, grandma and grandpa and mom's side. And one person I don't expect to see, my father. He has aged terribly, hair gone gray, back hunched, his whole frame shrunken. He stands in the morning hall dressed in white, face blank. When he sees me, something flickers in his eyes like he wants to speak. But in the end, he says nothing.
He just lowers his head and keeps burning paper offerings. I don't acknowledge him. I follow the ritual.
Light the incense. Bow, then stand in the corner. Grandma comes over. Marcus, it's enough that you came. Your mother can rest in peace now. I nod. Nothing more to say. After the service, guests filter out one by one. Only close family remains. Dad is still kneeling, burning paper. The fire light flickers across his aged face. I look at his back and feel a strange distance. This is my father. The man who once towered over everyone. The man who beat me with his fists and a stick. The man who locked me in a room. now kneeling here like a broken man with nowhere left to go. He must feel my gaze. He turns to look at me, eyes rimmed red, his lips move.
Marcus, I don't respond. I just watch him in silence. He stands up and walks toward me, unsteady on his feet. When he stands in front of me, I catch the smell of alcohol. Marcus, I'm sorry. All these years, I've wanted to find you, to apologize, but I couldn't face you. Your mother is gone now. I don't have many years left either. Can you forgive me? I look at him at this man I once hated with every fiber of my being. Now he stands before me, humbled to nothing. I speak, my voice is calm. You know what?
When I was a kid, there was one thing I could never figure out. Why did other parents love their children while mine treated me like a burden? I figured it out eventually. It wasn't that something was wrong with me. It's that you didn't deserve to be parents. Dad's face twitches as if he's been slapped hard.
You ask if I can forgive you. My answer is the same as what I told her. I don't hate you anymore, but I will never forgive you. Not in this lifetime. Dad freezes. Tears stream down harder. He reaches for my arm. I step aside. One more thing. From now on, we have no connection. You live your life. I live mine. Birth, aging, sickness, death.
None of it concerns the other. This is the last time you'll see me. I turn and walk away. I don't look back. Behind me, Dad's wailing echoes and grandma's calls, but I hear none of it. Step by step, I walk out of the morning hall, out of that suffocating place. I get in the car, start the engine, and pull onto the highway, heading home. The night is deep, few cars on the road. I drive, my mind racing through everything. 12 years abandoned in the countryside. Six years treated like a ghost. At 18, locked in a room, my acceptance letter shredded by my own sister. Those memories play back like a film. At 29, I own an apartment, a car, and a career in the city. I've become someone I never dare dream of being. And them? Dad lost his job.
Destitute. Mom died of misery. Sienna lost her mind. The family that once tried to crush me has completely fallen apart. This isn't my revenge. This is their own karma. Halfway home, I pull into a rest stop. I stand in the night wind, look up at the stars, and suddenly think of grandpa. Of him sitting under the old locust tree, telling me stories of what he always said. Education is the only way out for a kid with nothing.
Grandpa, I walked out. I've become everything you hoped I'd be. My eyes sting, but I don't let the tears fall. I just take a deep breath, get back in the car, and keep driving. 3:00 in the morning, I'm home. I lie in bed, watching the sky lighten outside my window. A lightness I've never known before fills my chest. All that bitterness, all that tangled love and hate. From this day forward, none of it has anything to do with me. I can finally let go of the past and start a new life. One year later, I get promoted. The youngest manager in my department, my salary doubles. That same year, I meet someone. Her name is Ren, a designer in the department next to mine.
Beautiful. When she smiles, her eyes curve like crescent moons. We meet through a work project and hit it off.
She knows about my past. She knows every painful detail, but she never looks at me differently. She just listens, then says one thing. None of that was your fault. You've done more than enough. In that moment, something fills a hollow place inside me I didn't even know was empty. We get together, dating, moving in together, and then the proposal. On that day, I take her to the countryside, to grandpa's grave. I kneel and introduce her. Grandpa, this is my girlfriend. Her name is Ren. She's a wonderful person. I want to marry her.
Ren stands beside me, eyes red, and kneels down to bow three times. The wind blows hard that day, rustling the wild grass around the grave. I could swear it is grandpa answering me saying, "Good, good, good. My grandson made it. The year I turn 32, we get married. It is a small wedding. Just a few close friends.
All my old roommates are there." Derek is my best man. He drinks too much at the reception, throws his arm around me, and says, "Marcus, I'm so happy for you, man. You finally made it." I smile.
"Yeah, I finally made it." A year later, Ren gets pregnant. 10 months after that, our daughter is born. I name her CC C as in remembrance. in memory of grandpa.
The moment I hold her, I break down crying. A feeling I've never known in over 30 years of living. So this is what it means to be connected by blood. This is what it feels like to be needed. This is what family means. I look at the tiny person in my arms and swear I will be a good father. I will never let her go through what I went through. I will give her the best love, the best protection.
I will let her grow up in the sunlight, never knowing the kind of darkness that exists in this world. Ren lies in the hospital bed. What are you thinking about? I'm thinking that the luckiest thing in my life is surviving those hard years and then meeting you. She reaches out and holds my hand. Me, too. Sunlight falls across the three of us, warm and bright. In that moment, I realize that every bit of suffering is worth it because it shapes me into who I am today. It teaches me to cherish what matters. It leads me to the person I am meant to find. It gives me this family that is truly mine. What life owes me, I take back with my own hands. And then some. Never give up on yourself because you never know what view is waiting for you on the other side.
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