Chapter 4

Ugly child, ugly child.

Light, casual laughter. Light, casual criticism.

Pressing down on little me, it became a mountain.

Never letting me straighten my back again.

Mom and Dad laughed at me:

"Being ugly is one thing, but your personality is so strange too."

"Petty and small-minded. You'll never amount to anything."

But Mom, Dad, did you ever think about why I became this way?

When I smiled with my teeth showing, you said it looked ugly.

When I wanted to learn ballet, you said I was clumsy like a toad.

When I hosted at school, you said I looked ridiculous in a formal dress and people laughed at me.

Time and time again I tried to improve.

You dragged me back down into the mud each time.

"I hate you!"

"I hate that you raised me to be like this!"

The words I'd held in my heart for so many years finally came roaring out.

Mom froze.

She and Dad exchanged a quick glance.

Shame and embarrassment flashed across their faces.

"Your wings have grown hard, haven't they? You dare talk to us like this?"

Mom screeched at the top of her lungs.

Her beautiful eyes furrowed as she pointed at my nose and scolded:

"We're just telling you the truth—it's for your own good. Who else would be honest with you?"

I bit my teeth, fists clenched.

Tears dropped one by one onto the floor.

"I don't want to hear your so-called truth!"

I wanted to hear your praise too...

Even if not about being pretty—hardworking, studious, thoughtful...

Any word would do.

But Mom and Dad never really looked at me.

Mom's voice was still buzzing in my ears:

"Besides, ask yourself—what have we ever denied you since you were little? You had food and drink. How did we wrong you?"

I suddenly wanted to laugh.

What had I ever had since childhood?

My sister was beautiful and precious.

Her clothes were bought in sets, filling her closet.

Her fruit was peeled and cut, arranged on fancy plates.

Even after my sister graduated, Mom and Dad drove her to and from work. At home, they even set out her dishes and utensils.

And me?

Since elementary school, I went to and from school by myself, just because my sister said, "She's too ugly. Being with her is embarrassing."

Several times during typhoons, I watched other kids get picked up by their parents.

Only I struggled through wind and rain.

I'd walked the lonely road for over twenty years.

My underbite could have been easily corrected when I was little. My puberty acne scars could have been easily treated.

Not only did Mom and Dad not take these things seriously.

They became their jokes instead.

Many times, watching my sister, I wondered.

Why, when we were growing up under the same sky.

My side was always raining.

Dampness seeping into my flesh and blood, corroding my bones.

Her side was always sunny and peaceful.

"You're just biased! Biased toward my sister!"

I wailed, hoarsely accusing them:

"Why? Just because I'm ugly, you don't like me?

"I want to be pretty too! Give me back my money—my plastic surgery money! Give it back!"

The relatives started whispering among themselves.

Mom and Dad didn't expect me to make such an endless scene. They were already getting angry.

Mom lowered her voice, warning me:

"Get upstairs right now. Stop embarrassing me here!"

"I won't go! Give me back my money! You're so biased, stealing my money to buy my sister a bag?"

Slap.

Mom couldn't take it anymore. She swung her arm and backhanded me across the face.

The force was so strong it made me stagger back several steps.

My ears started ringing.

"How did I raise something like you! Get out!"

Her shrill scolding echoed in my ears.

I lifted my head in a daze.

Mom was a recognized beauty. Even when she looked like a shrew in anger, she was still pretty.

Dad frowned beside her, looking handsome even with a cold face.

My sister stood with folded arms, laughing lightly, full of haughty disdain.

The three of them stood in a row, like there was an unbridgeable chasm between them and me.

After a long, long time, I heard my hoarse voice:

"Fine. You don't have to return the money. Consider it compensation for raising me."

"I'll leave. An ugly girl like me doesn't deserve to be part of your family."