Cut Off My Crazy Mom
My mother Zoe, was kneeling on the floor scrubbing the tiles, foam splashing onto her pant legs.
Mom, I'll say this again. My voice was tight, fingertips still warm from the keyboard, "The folder on the study computer, the one labeled 'Graduation Thesis'—don't touch it."
She stood up straight, droplets from her apron falling onto the floor, spreading in small circles.
"Got it, got it," she waved her hand, impatience in her tone, "You keep saying it all day long! I'm not illiterate; how could I possibly delete your files?"
I didn't say another word.
The final draft was due in a week. It was the product of over three months of hard work, from the literature review to the data models, with every page revised at least ten times.
When I returned to the study, the desk lamp's light just covered the keyboard.
I stared at the dense text on the screen and let out a long breath.
After about half an hour, I felt a sharp pressure in my bladder.
I hesitated for a moment but still got up.
"Mom, I'm going to the bathroom. Don't come into the study." When I got to the living room, I added, "Okay?"
Mom was watching TV in the living room and didn't even look up. "Got it, stop nagging."
The bathroom light was voice-activated. When I stomped to turn it on, I was still wondering whether to add two more examples to my thesis conclusion.
Five minutes later, I pushed open the door.
The first thing I saw was she standing at the study door, holding a cup, looking a bit uneasy.
"Mom, what are you doing...?" My heart dropped as I hurried over.
The computer screen was black.
I pressed the power button with shaking hands, and when the screen lit up, the desktop was completely empty.
The folder labeled "Graduation Thesis" was gone.
"Where's my thesis?" My voice trembled as I turned to look at her.
Her eyes darted away as she hid the cup behind her. "I saw you had too many things on your computer, so I deleted some useless stuff for you..."
"Useless?" I practically shouted, tears instantly welling up. "That's my graduation thesis! Three whole months of my hard work!"
Her expression changed, but she still stubbornly said, "I just deleted and so what? Just rewrite it. It's not a big deal."
"Rewrite?" I pointed at the screen, my finger trembling. "There's only one week left to submit! How am I supposed to rewrite it now?"
At that moment, my father, George, came back from outside and walked in, hearing the noise.
"Why are you so noisy? It's the middle of the night." He frowned, saw me crying, then looked over at Zoe.
Zoe immediately put on a hurt expression: "George, I didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted to help Monica clean up her computer, who knew I'd delete her thesis... and she even snapped at me."
"Monica, how can you talk to your mother like that?" George immediately turned to scold me, "Your mom was just trying to help. It's one thing not to appreciate it, but to yell at her too?"
"Trying to help?" I couldn't believe my ears. "She destroyed the results of my graduation project, and you expect me to be grateful?"
"What an ungrateful child, how can you be so clueless!" George raised his voice.
Footsteps came from upstairs as my brother Johnny rubbed his eyes and came downstairs.
"Can you guys stop making noise? I have to work tomorrow." He sounded annoyed, saw me crying, and then glanced at our mother Zoe.
"Johnny, mom deleted my graduation thesis." My voice trembled as I tried to ask for help.
Johnny frowned. "Deleted or not, why bother arguing with her? She's doing it for your own good."
"For my own good?" I looked at the three of them and felt my heart turn cold. "You don't care about my effort at all!"
"Watch your mouth!" Johnny stepped forward, his eyes fierce.
"I said you don't care about me and my effort!" I choked, tears streaming harder.
With a smack, Johnny's fist hit my face.
I staggered backward and crashed into the desk.
My cheek burned with pain, but worse than the pain was the despair.
"You even dare to hit me?" I covered my face, my voice trembling.
Johnny tried to step forward, but George held him back.
"Enough!" George snapped, not even looking at me, but turning to Johnny and saying, "What's the point of arguing with your sister?"
Watching them, I suddenly remembered something from twelve years ago.
That year, Johnny was taking the college entrance exam, and the night before, Zoe had deliberately set an alarm clock.
But the alarm didn't go off the next morning.
Johnny missed the exam, had to repeat the year, and still didn't get into a good university.
At the time, everyone said I had accidentally broken the alarm clock.
I couldn't defend myself against all those accusations.
It wasn't until later, when I overheard Zoe talking to the neighbor, that I realized she had intentionally turned off the alarm.
She said if Johnny got into university and left, there would be no one left to rely on at home.
"Twelve years ago," I said, looking at my mother with a cold voice, "it was you who deliberately turned off Johnny's college entrance exam alarm clock, not me."
The living room fell utterly silent.
Her face went ghostly pale, her eyes wild with panic.
Johnny stood frozen, staring at our mother. "Mom, is what she said true?"
Zoe opened her mouth but couldn't utter a word.
I looked at their stunned faces and found it almost laughable.
So, all this time, they never knew the truth.
And I have been falsely accused for twelve years.
The bruise on my cheek hadn't even faded, and my asthma flared up.
That morning, when I got up, I felt tightness in my chest and my breathing got increasingly difficult.
I fumbled around for my asthma inhaler but found the bottle was empty.
"Mom, my asthma inhaler is empty. Please get me a new one." I shouted toward the living room.
No one answered.
I leaned against the wall and slowly walked to the living room, only to find the house empty.
My phone was on the coffee table. I picked it up, trying to dial 911, but my fingers kept getting weaker.
My vision began to darken. I collapsed to the floor, my consciousness fading.
When I woke up again, I was already lying in a hospital bed.
An oxygen tube was in my nose, and my chest felt a bit tight.
A nurse came over and adjusted the oxygen tube for me. "You finally woke up. Fortunately, your neighbor heard the noise and called an ambulance for you."
I nodded, my throat dry and sore.
About half an hour later, the ward door was pushed open.
Zoe walked in carrying a plastic bag, which held a bouquet of fresh flowers—red and yellow, blooming brightly.
"Monica, how are you feeling?" She walked over to the bedside and placed the flowers on the nightstand.
The scent of the flowers suddenly filled the room, and I started coughing violently, my chest tightening.
"Take the flowers away..." I clutched my chest, gasping for breath.
She froze for a moment. "These flowers are so beautiful. I bought them especially to comfort you."
"I have asthma... The pollen will suffocate me..." I coughed too hard to finish my sentence.
Just then, the doctor came in and frowned when he saw the flowers on the bedside table.
"Who brought these flowers?" The doctor said sternly, "The patient has asthma. Pollen is an allergen. Didn't you know that?"
Zoe's face changed. "I... I didn't know. I just wanted to make her a little happier."
"Happier?" The doctor looked at her. "If she'd come any later, she would have been in serious danger! Why is the family only arriving now? The ambulance got here almost two hours ago."
Zoe lowered her head and said nothing.
Another ten minutes passed before George and Johnny arrived.
George held a bunch of wildflowers—droopy and looking like they'd been picked from the roadside.
"Monica, how are you feeling?" George placed the wildflowers on the bedside table next to the fresh flowers, making the whole scene look especially ridiculous.
"Dad, my asthma is flaring up. I can't be around pollen." I looked at the two bouquets and felt like I was suffocating.
"I just wanted to bring you some flowers," George said dismissively. "Your mom means well. It's for your own good."
Those words, "for your own good," stabbed into my heart like a knife.
I looked at them and suddenly felt utterly exhausted.
From my thesis being deleted, to my brother hitting me, to this moment—they've never truly cared about my feelings.
Their so-called "for your own good" was nothing but satisfying their own desires.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see them anymore.
For the first time, the thought of cutting ties with my family surfaced clearly in my mind.
Maybe only by leaving this home can I truly live.
On Christmas Day, my family prepared a table full of dishes.
George took a box from the cabinet and opened it to reveal a ginseng root inside.
"This is wild ginseng I asked someone to get, cost me 150,000 dollars," George carefully held the ginseng with a proud look. "We brewed it today to give everyone a boost."
Zoe leaned in for a closer look: "I heard it was very expensive! We'd better brew it well, then."
Johnny sat on the sofa, holding a cage with a bird inside.
The bird's feathers were striking—black and white, with a red beak.
"Johnny, what kind of bird is this?" I asked curiously.
Johnny smiled. "I found it in the mountains a few days ago. It looks pretty rare, so I brought it back."
The bird looked familiar somehow, but I couldn't recall where I'd seen it before.
Zoe's eyes lit up when she saw the bird. "This bird looks tender and meaty. Why not stew it with ginseng? It'll definitely be nourishing."
"Mom, this bird might be a protected species," I said instinctively. I said it without thinking.
"What protected species?" Zoe waved her hand. "It's just an ordinary bird. Let's stew it for a taste."
Johnny didn't object either: "Stew it then. It's no use just leaving it there."
I looked at them without saying another word, but I had a bad feeling inside.
At dinner, the ginseng and bird stew was placed on the table.
The bird's wing was floated in the soup, which smelled strange.
George was the first to serve himself a bowl. After a sip, he said, "Not bad. This wild ginseng really is something special."
Zoe and Johnny also served themselves soup, eating it with great relish.
I sat beside them, watching, not taking a single bite.
That bowl of soup looked like a bowl of poison to me.
About half an hour later, the doorbell rang.
Zoe went to open the door, and two uniformed men were standing there.
"May I ask if you are George Lincoln?" One of them asked.
George put down his bowl and walked over. "That's me. What's the matter?"
"We're from the Wildlife Conservation Bureau," the man showed his ID. "Someone reported that you are illegally hunting and eating a protected species. We're here to investigate."
George's face changed instantly: "A protected species? No, we haven't hunted any animals."
Zoe quickly said, "Yeah, we just eat at home. There's no protected species involved."
"Then what's that soup on the table made of?" Another person pointed to the dining table.
Zoe followed his finger nervously and said, "It's... it's just regular chicken soup."
"Regular chicken?" That person walked over, picked up a feather from the soup, and said, "This is a Black-Boned Chicken feather. The Black-Boned Chicken is a protected species. Don't you know that?"
Johnny's face instantly went pale, and the spoon in his hand dropped to the floor with a sharp clink.
"B- Black-Boned Chicken?" His voice trembled, "I... I just found it on the mountain. I didn't know it was a protected species."
"Even picking it up isn't allowed," the staff said sternly. "According to the law, illegal hunting, killing, purchasing, transporting, or selling nationally protected wild animals or their products carries legal consequences."
Zoe tried to argue, "It's just a chicken. Is it really necessary to make such a big deal out of this?"
"This isn't an ordinary chicken — it's a protected species!" the officer raised his voice. "What you're doing is already suspected to be illegal!"
I sat beside them, watching their panicked faces, without a shred of sympathy.
All these years, they never cared about my feelings. Now, finally, it's their turn to feel this kind of despair.
We were taken to the police station.
The interrogation room was brightly lit, the light stinging my eyes.
Zoe sat in the chair, rubbing her hands nervously, her eyes wild with panic.
"Sir, I really didn't know it was a protected species," Zoe wailed, "It was all my daughter Monica Lincoln—she was the one who told me to stew it. She said those birds are good for our health, so I cooked it."
I was stunned; I hadn't expected her to shift the blame onto me.
"Mom, how can you say that?" I looked at her, my voice cold. "You were the one who insisted on stewing it. I even warned you it might be a protected species."
"It was you!" She pointed at me, crying even harder. "If you hadn't said it was good for your health, how would I have cooked it? You're trying to ruin us!"
The interrogator frowned and glanced at the recorder beside him. "Call in everyone who was at the scene to question them."
Soon after, the leader from the Wildlife Conservation Bureau entered.
"Sir, when we arrived at the scene, Miss Lincoln clearly opposed cooking that bird and warned her family it might be a protected species," the leader said. "We can testify to that."
Zoe's crying stopped abruptly, her face turning pale.
"You... how can you say that?" She stared at the leader, disbelief written all over her face.
"We're stating the facts," the leader said, pulling out a law enforcement recorder. "Here are the audio and video recordings from that time—they prove everything."
Zoe collapsed into the chair, speechless.
Just then, George walked in from outside, holding a piece of paper.
It was the receipt for the wild ginseng purchase, showing 150,000 dollars.
"My ginseng, fifteen thousand just vanished like that!" George saw Zoe and his anger boiled over. He stepped forward and, with a sharp slap, struck her across the face.
Zoe covered her face as tears fell again. "Why did you hit me? I didn't mean to."
"You didn't mean to?" George pointed at her, trembling with rage. "Do you know how expensive that ginseng was? And that bird! Now look— not only is the ginseng gone, we're also facing legal trouble!"
Johnny came in too, his face grim.
"Johnny, how are you holding up?" I asked him.
Johnny gave me a complicated look. "The company found out about this and wants to fire me. My career is over."
I said nothing, feeling nothing at all.
They only have themselves to blame.
After the interrogation, Zoe was handcuffed and taken away for illegally consuming a protected species.
I went home and packed my bags.
A family photo from last New Year's hung on the living room wall.
In the photo, the four of us are all smiling, looking harmonious.
But only I know that behind this harmony, there are lies and pain.
I reached out, took down the family portrait, and threw it to the ground.
The glass shattered all over the floor, and the photo broke into several pieces.
Just like this family—broken beyond repair.
My phone rang; it was a message from the lawyer, attached with a Family Estrangement Agreement.
I stared at the agreement, then tapped "Agree" on the screen.
From today on, I am no longer a member of this family.
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