When my mom heard me, she started
screaming.
“Emily, you think you’re so grown up now,
huh? Your life belongs to us! How dare you
leave?”
“Get back here now! Or I swear, if I find you,
I’ll kill you! Your life belongs to us!”
When I didn’t respond, she panicked, her
voice softening.
“Your sister is sick because of you! She’s pregnant! How can you be so cruel?”
Cruel? He was the one who killed me in my
く
past life.
Mark had aggressive autism, and
communication with him was incredibly
difficult.
His mother’s health deteriorated after giving
birth to him, and he was their only child.
His whole life, she’d drilled the importance of
carrying on the family name into him.
Their sole objective was a healthy son.
Anyone who stood in his way was a target.
No one was exempt, not even Sarah, I
<
suspected.
In reality, people with autism, if properly
supported, could be incredible contributors to
society.
Einstein, Beethoven, Edison – many brilliant
minds were thought to be on the spectrum.
If Mark had been raised differently, he
wouldn’t be like this. He wouldn’t be
threatening people with knives.
I said calmly, “Sarah is pregnant. You’re her
mother. You take care of her.”
“I’ve taken care of her for over twenty years.
く
I’ve done my part.”
“I’m not her mother. I have no obligation to
take care of her.”
My mom went ballistic.
“Emily, have you no conscience? If it weren’t
for your sister, you wouldn’t even be here!”
Oh, please. Not that tired old line again.
I was so sick of hearing it.
They’d only had me to avoid responsibility.
They’d only had me so someone would take
<
זי
care of them.
Why didn’t she ever ask me if I wanted to be
born into that family?
