Chapter 3The Monster I Raised

My parents had a massive blowout argument.

My dad was screaming in the bedroom. “We never should have kept him! He’s a monster!”

My mom pointed a finger in his face, screaming back hysterically, “Even if he is a monster, he’s your flesh and blood! And he’s already born! What’s the point of saying this now?!”

My dad wanted to argue back but couldn’t find the words. He left my mom crying alone in the room.

My mom tried desperately to send him to other preschools, but he either bullied the little girls—cutting off their braids—or bullied the younger boys, shoving their heads into the toilets and forcing them to drink the water.

When he saw a teacher who was seven months pregnant, he actually told the other kids he wanted to kick her hard in the stomach.

And later, he actually did it. When the pregnant teacher was walking to the bathroom, he sneaked up and tripped her.

She lost her balance and fell forward. If someone nearby hadn’t caught her in time, the outcome would have been unthinkable.

The teacher’s husband caused a massive scene. He demanded the preschool pay for emotional distress and demanded to know why my brother was so purely malicious at such a young age.

The principal had no choice. She refunded our tuition and practically begged my mom, “Please, take your child and go. Our little school can’t handle him! I’ve been running preschools for thirty years, and I’ve never seen a child like this!”

Neither my dad’s anger nor my mom’s pleading worked.

Eventually, my mom gave up. She had my grandma watch him at home until he was old enough for elementary school.

As the only grandson in the family, my grandma doted on him. She gave him whatever he wanted.

Because of her age, her legs weren’t great, making stairs difficult. But even so, she would gladly walk to the grocery store every single day to buy whatever food he wanted to eat.

One day, just as my grandma was heading out for groceries, the moment she reached the top of the stairs, I saw my brother charge out with a wicked grin and violently shove her from behind.

The grocery basket tumbled down the steps, followed immediately by the sickening thud of my grandma’s body rolling down the stairs.

My brother clapped his hands and laughed. His laughter echoed through the entire stairwell.

I saw the whole thing with my own eyes.

After that, my grandma was paralyzed.

My dad slapped my brother like a madman. He looked like he wanted to kill him. My mom cried and clung to his legs, screaming, “He’s just a child!”

My dad roared, “That is not a child! That’s a monster!”

He slumped into a chair, muttering to himself, “We should have aborted him. We should have aborted him back then.”

My brother glared at him with pure hatred. I was the only one who walked over to my dad. I told him not to be sad, that Grandma would get better.

My dad hugged me tight, tears suddenly falling from his eyes.

When I got home from the hospital, I was in a great mood. I hummed a song while feeding my bunny some lettuce. My poor bunny was still traumatized from seeing its companion killed; it shivered whenever someone came near.

I shoved the lettuce against its mouth. “Eat it.”

The bunny wouldn't open its mouth.

“Why aren't you eating?”

Finally, I opened the cage, and personally watched the lettuce go into the bunny's stomach before I left, satisfied.