Three months after giving birth, I suffered a severe bone fracture. My husband, heartbroken to see me in pain, spent a fortune to hire the most highly-rated, impossible-to-book maternity nurse in the city. He even paid a five-thousand-dollar deposit upfront. My mother was raving about the nurse’s resume and was just about to call her to confirm she was starting tomorrow. I reached out and pressed the end-call button on her phone. "Don't bother," I said. "Aunt Sarah is going to be here any minute to steal her." For as long as I can remember, my mother has played the role of the neighborhood "Mother Teresa." Whenever Aunt Sarah's family cried poverty or played the victim, my family’s best resources were immediately handed over to them. My mom prided herself on being "helpful and generous," completely oblivious to the fact that Aunt Sarah secretly laughed at her behind her back, calling her a "gullible idiot." But my mom always thought I was just being cynical. She insisted Aunt Sarah wasn't like that and picked up her phone to redial. Right at that moment, the front door swung open. Aunt Sarah walked in, grabbed my mother’s hand, and immediately started wiping away fake tears. She sobbed about how her daughter-in-law wasn't producing enough breastmilk and begged her sister-in-law to let them have the maternity nurse. My mom stood there, phone in hand, her face a mask of utter embarrassment. I crossed my arms and let out a cold laugh. "Well, Mom? Are you going to say yes this time, or no?" 1 Aunt Sarah kept wiping her non-existent tears while shooting sideways glances at my mother’s face. "Liz, you know my new grandson was born premature. He’s so frail, and my daughter-in-law’s milk hasn't come in. If we don't have a professional looking after him, I'm terrified the baby might..." She trailed off, swallowing the word "die," expertly tossing the panic straight into my mother's lap. My mother, predictably, took the bait. She glanced at my leg, suspended high in a heavy cast, and then at my newborn daughter sleeping soundly in the bassinet next to me. My mom gritted her teeth, turned to me, and said: "Harper, you heard her. Your aunt is talking about a life-or-death situation." "Your leg is already broken anyway. You just need to rest. If that baby doesn't make it, it would be a sin." I laughed, a sharp, angry sound. I pointed to my casted leg, then to the bassinet. "Mom, I am your biological daughter. I also just gave birth. My leg is broken, and I literally cannot take care of myself." "Mark paid a five-thousand-dollar deposit specifically for this nurse because she has physical rehabilitation certification to help me heal while taking care of the baby." "And you want me to just give her away? What am I supposed to do? What is your granddaughter supposed to do?" My mother frowned, looking at me as if I were being completely unreasonable. "Why are you being so selfish?" "You guys have money. Worst case, you just hire someone else. Your aunt’s family is struggling; they can't afford this." "Saving a life is the greatest good deed you can do. Don't you understand that?" Seeing my mother cave, Aunt Sarah immediately seized the opportunity. "Exactly, Harper. Auntie knows you’re successful, not dirt poor like us." "As for the nurse’s salary... we can chip in a few hundred bucks as a token of appreciation, and you can cover the rest..." Wow. Not only did she want to steal the nurse, but she also expected me to subsidize her salary. She expected me to pay out of my own pocket for someone to go serve her grandson? And my mother was actually standing there nodding. "A few hundred is a nice gesture. Harper doesn't care about the money." The anger in my chest ignited into a blazing inferno. This wasn't a mother. This was an unpaid employee of Aunt Sarah's family. I grabbed the ceramic mug off my nightstand and hurled it violently at the floor. CRASH! Hot tea splattered everywhere, and jagged shards of ceramic exploded right at Aunt Sarah’s feet. Aunt Sarah shrieked, jumping backward in terror. "Oh my god! Are you trying to kill someone?!" My mom jumped too, her face instantly darkening. "Harper Evans! What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have no manners?!" "You want to talk about manners? Fine." "This nurse is under an exclusive contract. The cancellation fee is ten thousand dollars." "Whoever wants to take her can slap ten thousand dollars down on this table right now." "Also, this nurse was arranged through a corporate wellness program at Mark's company. Transferring her privately is considered fraud. Let's call the cops right now and see what the judge has to say." The moment Aunt Sarah heard "ten thousand dollars" and "call the cops," all the color drained from her face. People like her are terrified of spending money, and even more terrified of going to jail. Her eyes darted around shiftily before she resorted to her usual tactic of throwing a tantrum. "Oh, listen to this, Liz! Look at your Harper. The richer she gets, the cheaper she gets. Who is she trying to scare..." "If you won't lend her to us, just say so! Don't act like a psycho! Get a little money and suddenly you're too good for your poor relatives!" Aunt Sarah stomped toward the door, cursing loudly. Right before she left, she turned and spat venomously on the floor. I thought my mom might check on me, ask if I was okay, or if the anger had hurt my injury. Instead, she stood there with a face like thunder, pointing her finger at my nose, and started lecturing me. "You chased your aunt away over something so petty! How am I supposed to face the rest of the family now?" "Everyone praises me for being a saint, and here you are, completely humiliating me!" 2 My mother lectured me for a solid thirty minutes. She only stopped when Mark walked in. He looked exhausted from his commute, but he was carrying a box with my favorite strawberry shortcake from the bakery downtown. As soon as he stepped inside, he sensed the toxic atmosphere. The shattered ceramic was still on the floor, my mom was sitting on the sofa wiping away fake tears, and I was lying in bed, my face expressionless. Mark's face changed instantly. He didn't even take his shoes off properly before rushing to my bedside. "Honey, what's wrong? Is your leg hurting?" He anxiously checked my cast, then checked on our sleeping daughter. Only when he confirmed we were both physically unharmed did he let out a breath. Seeing Mark, my mom immediately found a new audience for her grievances. "Mark, you need to talk some sense into her." "Harper is getting more and more selfish. What's wrong with helping out family when they're in a tough spot?" "Her aunt was practically begging on her knees, and Harper actually threatened to call the cops on her!" Mark listened to the whole story. The gentle warmth completely vanished from his face. He stood up, positioning himself defensively in front of my bed, his tone hard and cold: "Liz, that nurse was hired to take care of Harper and the baby." "Harper has a broken bone and desperately needs professional care right now. If we give the nurse away and Harper suffers long-term complications, who's going to take responsibility?" "You are Harper's mother. Is saving face with an outsider really more important to you than your own daughter's leg?" My mom choked on her words. She clearly hadn't expected her usually polite and mild-mannered son-in-law to shut her down so directly. She stood frozen for a few seconds before her embarrassment morphed into anger. She immediately started playing the victim. "Fine! You two are ganging up to bully an old woman!" "Do you think it's been easy for me to help our relatives all these years? Everyone calls me a saint. Is that a crime?" "Who do you think I do it for? I do it to build good karma for Harper!" "Karma?" I finally lost it. I told Mark to go to the study and grab the old ledger from my desk drawer. It was the "Book of Blood and Tears" I had kept since childhood. I had Mark open it and read the entries out loud to my mother, one by one. "Sophomore year of college. My eight-thousand-dollar academic scholarship. You stole it to buy my cousin a new gaming console, telling me it was a 'loan.' It was never repaid." "My first year working. My company gave me a premium imported seafood gift basket. Before I even opened the box, you took it to Aunt Sarah's house. I didn't even get to see a shrimp shell." "When we got married, I had that small starter condo. You forced me to let Aunt Sarah's family use it rent-free as my cousin's 'temporary' bridal suite. They lived there for three years. Never paid a dime in rent, and the utility bills were automatically deducted from my account!" Mark's face grew darker with every word he read. "Mom, your 'good reputation' is entirely built on bleeding me dry." "I am your daughter, not your personal ATM!" Having her ugly history exposed, my mother couldn't maintain her saintly facade anymore. She sprang up, snatched the ledger from Mark's hands, and slammed it onto the floor. "I raised you! What's wrong with spending some of your money? You're exactly like your deadbeat father—ungrateful!" With that, she stormed into the guest room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Mark held me gently, rubbing my back. "Don't let her get to you. It's bad for your recovery. You have me now. I won't let them leech off you anymore." His embrace was warm, but it couldn't chase away the bone-deep chill inside me. Late that night. My phone vibrated. It was a voice memo from Aunt Sarah. Her tone held absolutely no trace of the afternoon's hostility. Instead, it was dripping with her usual, entitled greed. "Harper, honey, never mind about the nurse. But I heard you have some fancy imported physical therapy machine? Your cousin's wife is feeling weak postpartum. Can we borrow it?" "Your leg is already messed up anyway, so missing a couple of days won't kill you." These people were literal leeches. Once they latched on, they never let go. 3 Bright and early the next morning, right after Mark left for work, Aunt Sarah and my cousin, Jake, showed up at our door. They played it smart this time. They didn't come empty-handed; they brought a basket of bruised, overripe apples. "Oh, Harper, Auntie was just too stressed yesterday. I was out of line. Don't take it to heart." Aunt Sarah slammed the apples onto the table, her eyes immediately darting around the room, hunting for her prize. Finally, her gaze locked onto the physical therapy machine actively humming near my leg. Mark had pulled strings to get that machine flown in from Germany. It cost eight thousand dollars and was specifically designed to prevent muscle atrophy after orthopedic surgery. My surgeon had strictly ordered me to use it for four hours every single day. "That's the therapy machine, right? Looks fancy." Aunt Sarah marched over, reaching out to yank the plug from the wall. "Perfect. My husband's back is acting up, and my daughter-in-law is complaining of aches. I'll take it back so the whole family can get some use out of it." I slammed my hand down hard on the machine. "No." "This is medical equipment, not a toy. If you use it wrong, you can get hurt. Plus, I'm actively doing my rehab. I can't stop." Aunt Sarah's face instantly soured. "Harper, why are you so selfish? Letting us borrow it for a few days isn't going to break it!" My cousin Jake, who had been standing silently, suddenly lunged forward and violently shoved my hand away. "Mom, why are you wasting breath on her! Aunt Liz already said we could take it!" He grabbed the sides of the heavy machine and started lifting. Panic seized me. Forgetting the heavy cast on my leg, I lunged forward, trying to stop him. "That is mine! I'm not lending it to you! You're literally robbing me!" Right at that moment, my mom walked out of the kitchen. She was still holding a spatula. Without even glancing at me, she barked: "Harper! Let go!" "It's just a stupid machine! Let your cousin use it for a few days! What's the big deal?!" "His wife has postpartum complications! You missing a couple of days won't kill you!" I stared at my mother in utter disbelief. "Mom, this is my lifeline for recovery! The doctor said if I stop using it for even one day, my muscles could atrophy!" My mom rolled her eyes impatiently and marched over. "Stop listening to doctors trying to scare you! You're just being dramatic!" Determined to help Jake steal the machine, she actually reached out and shoved me hard. "Let go of it right now! Why do you have to be such a brat?!" I was sitting in a wheelchair. Her violent shove hit me right in the shoulder. The wheelchair tipped backward. I crashed heavily onto the hard tile floor. The newly set bone in my leg slammed brutally against the solid marble. CRACK! Blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my entire body like a surge of electricity. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, cold sweat instantly soaking through my clothes. Aunt Sarah and Jake jumped back in shock, nearly dropping the heavy machine. But they didn't put it down. Instead, they seized the opportunity, hoisted the machine, and bolted for the door. Jake yelled over his shoulder, "She fell on her own! We didn't touch her!" Aunt Sarah sprinted faster than a rabbit. "Exactly! You saw it, Liz! We didn't lay a finger on her!" Clutching my lifeline of a medical device, they sprinted out the front door. And my own mother stood frozen in place. She looked down at me writhing on the floor. A flash of panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resentment. "Stop screaming! You're fine!" "If you hadn't fought your own family for it, you wouldn't have fallen! It's your own fault!" 4 The sheer agony made my vision swim with black spots. I felt a warm, thick liquid seeping out from under my cast, rapidly soaking into the fabric of my pajama pants, turning them a dark, horrifying red. The bone had displaced again. It had likely punctured an artery. My daughter, startled awake by my screaming, began wailing from her bassinet. I forced my heavy head up and looked at my mother. "Mom... help me..." "There's so much blood... take me to the hospital..." My mom saw the expanding pool of blood on the floor. The color drained from her face. She instinctively took a step toward me, reaching out her hands to help. Just then, Aunt Sarah's frantic voice echoed from the hallway: "Liz! Get down here and help! This machine is too heavy, we can't get it in the trunk!" My mom's footsteps halted. She looked down at me, drenched in cold sweat, hovering on the edge of unconsciousness. Then, she looked toward the open door. Aunt Sarah yelled again, "Liz! Hurry up! Don't let that brat Harper change her mind and chase us down!" My mom hesitated for exactly one second. She turned her back to me, pointing a finger in my direction, and scolded: "Stop faking it! A little blood isn't going to kill you!" "I'm going to help your aunt load the car. I'll deal with you when I get back!" With that, she turned and walked out. I watched in absolute despair as she pulled the heavy front door shut behind her. This was my biological mother. In a life-or-death moment, she chose to go help robbers load stolen goods into a getaway car rather than call an ambulance for her bleeding daughter. The excruciating pain was dragging me into darkness. But I couldn't die. My baby was crying. I bit down on my lip until I tasted copper, using my elbows to drag my heavy, broken body across the floor, inching my way toward the coffee table. A long, thick trail of blood smeared across the pristine marble behind me. It was a horrifying sight. Finally, my shaking fingers brushed against my phone. It took three tries for the fingerprint scanner to read through the blood on my thumb. I dialed Mark's number. "Hey, honey?" The moment the call connected, I used the very last ounce of breath in my lungs to force out a single word: "Help..." The phone slipped from my grasp. Absolute darkness swallowed me whole. I don't know how much time passed. I heard the violent, splintering sound of the front door being kicked in. "HARPER!!!" It was Mark's voice, tearing with raw, primal panic. Followed by the sound of frantic footsteps and the horrified gasps of the building's security guards. And right then, another voice drifted in from the hallway, humming a cheerful little tune. It was my mom. She had finished loading the stolen goods and was leisurely strolling back upstairs. "What is all this noise? Are you trying to tear my door down?!" "She just took a little tumble! Do you really need to make such a massive scene..." Her voice died in her throat the moment she saw the room full of people and the massive pool of blood I was lying in. Mark was kneeling on the floor, holding my blood-soaked body. He looked up at her, his eyes blazing with a feral, murderous rage. I wasn't "faking it." I was actually, truly, dying.
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