Leah Tina NovelBetter Not Born

1
I bought a small slice of cake for my birthday. A gift to myself.
I got home just as my sister was having one of her episodes.
In the agonizingly slow minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, my mom spotted the small cake box in my hand. All her fear and rage found a target. She lunged at me, and a sharp sting exploded across my cheek as her palm connected with my face.
"Your sister is dying, and you have the nerve to be thinking about cake? How did I give birth to such a cold-hearted monster!"
My dad's foot slammed into the back of my knees, sending me crashing to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a low growl. "If it wasn't for Tina's illness, we never would have had you!"
The cake box hit the wall, splattering cream and crumbs across my shirt. I stared down at the mess, my head bowed. It felt like an eternity before I could speak.
"Then you can just pretend I'm dead."
...
The twisted fury on my parents' faces froze, replaced by disbelief.
"What did you just say?"
I was a pathetic heap on the floor, my worn-out t-shirt smeared with buttercream.
"I said," I repeated, my voice surprisingly steady, a strange calm settling over me, "you can just pretend I'm dead."
My sister, Tina, was diagnosed with a rare congenital immune disease when she was three. She needed a bone marrow transplant. After my parents both proved to be incompatible donors, I was conceived to save her.
Until I was six, I was passed around between relatives. The only time my parents ever appeared was when Tina had a flare-up, and they'd drag me, frantic and panicked, to the hospital.
My entire childhood was a soundtrack of my own screams as thumb-thick needles plunged into my flesh, punctuated by my parents' harsh commands to "hold still."
As I grew older, Tina's staggering medical bills became a crushing weight. They pulled me out of school and forced me to study nursing, all so I could be a better caretaker for her.
"You should be grateful to Tina," they'd say, over and over again. "She's the reason you exist."
"And I'd rather have never been born."
...
Mom must have realized she'd gone too far, but her voice was still dripping with blame.
"You know perfectly well your sister can't eat cake because of her condition. You bought it just to spite her, didn't you? I see right through you!"
She snatched the ruined box and hurled it into the trash, the little fondant rabbit on top shattering into pieces. Then she turned to Tina, her voice melting into gentle sympathy. "Don't you worry, my sweet Tina. In this house, no one will ever make you feel bad!"
Dads face was a thundercloud. "How dare you talk back to us. You're just asking for it, aren't you?"
The shouting had drawn the prying eyes of our neighbors, their faces peeking out from doorways. Mom immediately put on a mask of weary apology for their benefit.
"Oh, please forgive the noise. Leah is just being a bit difficult. Her sister is having an attack, and she started a tantrum over wanting cake."
"Her father and I are trying to teach her some discipline. Tina's so fragile, you know, and Leah will have to take care of her for the rest of her life. She can't be so selfish!"
She effortlessly painted me as the villain, directing the neighbors' chorus of tuts and disapproving glares my way.
But the truth was much simpler.
I was just tired after a long day.
I passed the bakery.
The sweet scent pulled me in.
I remembered it was my birthday.
That's all.
The handprint on my cheek burned.
I lifted my head, my gaze sweeping over the dining table, laden with an elaborate spread of dishes.
"You know all of Tina's favorite foods, her favorite jewelry... you have it all memorized."
A tear threatened to fall, but I blinked it back. My voice was barely a whisper. "Mom, do you even remember when my birthday is?"
Her tirade stopped short. A flicker of confusion crossed her face.
She didn't remember.
Just like she didn't love me.
I'd known this my whole life, but in that single, silent moment, the truth still managed to break me. The tears came, hot and silent.