He was right, it wasn’t my kid.
But I wouldn’t let them have a single thing.
I crushed the expired formula and said, “If your
can’t afford formula, let him starve.”
Mark and Tiffany were shocked.
“Brenda, how can you be so ruthless?”
Tiffany chimed in, “You thought it through,
く
I stared at her coldly.
“He can die. I’ll call the cops. You’ll live out
your days in prison!”
Mark quickly shielded Tiffany and said, “Fine,
don’t give it!”
I shoved him away and continued to glare at
Tiffany.
“If you don’t have money, does your kid’s dad
not have money? Did he use you and run.
away? Is your kid a bastard?”
Tiffany’s face was red.
“He’s not a deadbeat! My husband loves me!”
But then she seemed happy.
“That reminds me! I haven’t named the baby
yet. Maybe I’ll call him Bastard!”
I laughed.
“Okay. It’s your kid, name him whatever you
want.”
I looked at the baby.
“Bastard? Great name, it’s fitting.”
Tiffany relaxed and laughed too.
“Right, he’s a bastard!”
She thought her baby was my son and
mocked my stupidity.
Г
But I knew my son was in the other room, fast
asleep, and Tiffany was holding her and
Mark’s kid.
Being called “Bastard” was the least of his
worries.
The kid was growing quickly.
When it was time to go to elementary school,
the “bastard” didn’t have a birth certificate
and was locked in the house.
Tiffany didn’t work, and the most fun thing to her was bringing the bastard over for a visit.
The bastard had never seen good food or drinks, and was like a wild animal.
He would run around and steal my son’s food.
That’s when Tiffany would beat him with a big
stick, and watch my reaction.
Back then, I felt bad and protected him.
But I wouldn’t be so stupid now, and watched
her perform.
The bastard never drank formula, so he was
skinny and small, and he was covered with
bruises.
But it wasn’t enough.
Back then, Tiffany had cracked my son’s
head with a stick, turning him into a
vegetable.
One day, Tiffany came over, and the bastard
saw the bananas on the table.
He ran and started eating them.
Tiffany pulled out her stick and beat him.
“Bastard! I didn’t feed you at home? You
embarrass me!”
It was already winter, but the bastard was
wearing a t–shirt.
His pus–filled wounds were exposed.
He hid behind me.
“Aunt Brenda, save me! I was just hungry, I
didn’t mean it!”
く
Tiffany laughed.
“Aunt Brenda, ha ha ha! He called you Aunt
Brenda!”
I looked at her calmly..
“He can call me Aunt Brenda.”
Tiffany paused, and then laughed.
“Sorry, Brenda, that bastard is like a wild
animal. I can’t feed him enough, and I don’t
hit him enough. Or else he wouldn’t steal
Sean’s bananas!”
Sean was my son.
Mark and Tiffany thought Sean was their son,
I said, “You have to teach him, or else Sean
will cry when he sees the bananas are gone.”
Tiffany got angrier and started beating him.
“Bastard! Stealing Sean’s bananas! I’ll beat
you to death!”
The bastard curled up, weak and frail, but he
had a fire in his eyes.
Mark came home with Sean.
Tiffany put down the stick and hugged Sean.
Mark didn’t look at the bastard and said,
“Sean and Tiffany are close! Look at how well
they get along!”
