After undergoing a gallbladder removal surgery, I get discharged while having to hunch over in pain. In fact, I have to go home while attached to a surgical drainage bag.

Before I even reach the front door, I hear Rayne Randall, my sister who's ten years younger than me, wailing at the top of her lungs.

"Dad, there's a splinter in my finger! It hurts so much!"

"Let me blow your booboo away for you, Ray. It won't hurt anymore once I'm done."

As soon as I open the front door, I see my dad rolling his eyes at me. His previously happy disposition quickly morphs into an annoyed one.

"Why are you home this late? It's just a small surgery, isn't it? Look at how much of a wuss you're being! Ray wants to have fish for dinner, so you'd better take your ass to the market and buy a fresh one for her!"

My surgical wound hurts so much that I keep trembling in pain. I can barely move an inch.

Having noticed that I'm not moving at all, he chucks a slipper at me right away.

"Just go! What's with that gloomy look of yours? It's all thanks to you that our luck is gone! Every time I see a jinx like you walking around, I feel even unluckier!"

As far as I remember, my dad keeps calling me a jinx who has ruined his family.

Now that I've had a close brush with death, I don't want to keep living in this world like a pathetic loser.

In that case, I might as well let everyone in this family have a real dose of my misfortune.

Finn's First-Person POV

Strictly speaking, I was the second child in the family. I had an older brother who was lost in a miscarriage at just over five months.

A year after losing him, Derek Randall and Alessia Johnson adopted me from an orphanage.

Their biological child was gone, and they were told they might never be able to have children again. Dad went crazy with rage.

In his mind, I was the reason his son was gone.

Although Mom didn't go so far as to call me a jinx out loud, she never gave me a kind look. She was on the same page as Dad, and whenever she saw me, she either shook her head or sighed.

From the time I was young, I imagined that when I died, my parents would hold me and cry their hearts out, regretting that they hadn't treated me better. I didn't want much love. Just a little bit would have been enough.

But after being their son for 18 years, I realized I was deluding myself.

At five years old, I took on all the household chores—laundry, cooking, everything. If I didn't do the chores well, I was forced to kneel as punishment.

In winter, I knelt in the snow. In summer, I knelt in a small storage room without windows.

Dad cursed me to die every day, but I just wouldn't die. When I was eight, my little sister, Rayne Randall, was born, and I became her nanny and punching bag.

Taking care of her meals was one thing, but I also bore her punches and kicks as she vented her emotions. When I winced in pain, even if I just furrowed my brow, Dad would slap me across the face.

"Stop pretending. If you couldn't take good care of our little treasure, you jinx, we would have stopped raising you a long time ago."

I didn't dare talk back. One extra word would earn me a beating from both of them. My skin was rarely its normal color. Before the bruises faded, new injuries appeared.

At 14 years old, I got into a top high school, but I dropped out. My family wouldn't let me continue. Dad made me go out to work and earn more money to pay for Rayne's private elementary school fees.

I worked three jobs and was severely sleep-deprived. If I dozed off at home, Dad would beat me awake and scold me for being lazy and not doing anything.

He held all my payroll cards. When I got my salary, I didn't see a single cent of it.

My stomach had hurt for several months. I was sick but had no money to see a doctor, and he called me melodramatic.

"You're young and already whining about every little ache and pain. You're spoiled. Work harder and you'll be fine."

When I vomited blood at home, he told me to go somewhere far away to vomit and said I was greedy for stealing food and deserved to suffer.

Afterward, I fainted from stomach pain at the company. My gallbladder was full of stones, and I had multiple severe abdominal infections. Without surgery, I would die.

All the money I earned was in Dad's hands. I had no money for medical expenses.

The hospital called to tell him I was in critical condition, but it took him five hours to come to the hospital. He wouldn't pay a single cent and stood there with his hands on his hips, looking completely self-righteous.

"That jinx fainted at the company, so this counts as a work injury. Our family has no money."

The company manager saw me writhing in pain on the hospital bed. Afraid I would die, he softened and helped cover the hospital fees. Dad left, leaving me barely alive. No one from the family came to see me.

All I wanted was a little bit of love. How naive I was.

After nearly dying, I realized I should have cut ties with them years ago. But if I left home just as pathetically as I'd lived there, I would be unworthy of the "jinx" nickname I'd been called for years.

Looking back now, if we were stuck together as a family, I might as well make sure everyone got exactly what they deserved.

I stretched out my hand and asked for money. "I need money to buy fish."

Dad—Derek—was always generous when it came to buying things for Rayne.

He pulled out 20 dollars and handed it to me. "You're the only one who knows how to put on a show, acting like you're dying. What a drama queen.

"Whatever's left over from buying the fish, you bring every cent back to me. If I find out you dared to keep any of it for yourself, I'll beat you to death!"

"It's not enough."

"What did you say?"

The moment Derek heard me ask for more money, he exploded. "You little beast, are you trying to secretly save up your own stash? Since you came into this house, have you done a single thing right? We're already being generous by not making you pay rent."

Alessia, who'd been staring down at her phone the whole time, chimed in, "Finn, your dad's not wrong to call you out. At your age, it's easy to go down the wrong path. Your dad controlling your money is for your own good.

"Besides, if you need money, just ask us. If it's for something legitimate, we'll give it to you, won't we?"

I almost laughed. When I was dying, they wouldn't spare a single cent. What legitimate reason could I possibly have that they'd care about?

I didn't take the bait. I just said flatly, "20 dollars will only get us a dead fish."

"I don't want dead fish! I want crispy glazed salmon!" Rayne's shrill voice rang out.

Derek couldn't stand to see his daughter disappointed. He handed me another 50 bucks. "Pick the best fresh salmon for your sister."

Derek loved making things difficult for me.

It didn't matter though. Whatever fish I bought, I'd be the one cooking it anyway.

I went to the market and found a discount fish that was already going bad, then took a detour to the pharmacy to buy what I needed. Now I just had to wait for the delicious sweet and sour fish to come out of the pan.

"You're only just getting back? Are you deliberately trying to starve Ray? How can you be so heartless?"

Derek only cared how long I'd been gone because it meant Rayne was waiting. Her hunger mattered. He didn't remember that I'd just had surgery.

I was used to it. I didn't even change my clothes before going to cook for them. I swapped out the salt for what I'd bought at the pharmacy, smiling as I stirred it in.

I clutched my stomach with one hand and hobbled over to set the table. Only then did Rayne and her parents leisurely make their way over. Rayne grabbed a huge bite with her fork and smacked her lips.

"Delicious!"

Seeing his daughter enjoying it so much, Derek quickly said to me, "Finn, you have a wound. Fish isn't good for you right now, so you can't eat any. Go back to bed and rest. After we finish eating, you can have the leftovers. Don't let anything go to waste."

I had been rushing around without a break, and I wasn't even allowed to sit at the table. Well, I was used to it.

Finally, I could rest. I looked at the blood in my drainage bag and listened through the door to the happy laughter of Rayne's family.

I wanted to see if they'd still be laughing half an hour from now.

After they finished eating, I came to clear the table. The glazed salmon had been picked clean down to the bones. What they left me was half a serving of mashed potatoes and some vegetables.

I ate the leftovers slowly, checking the time between bites. What I'd added to the salmon should take effect soon.

"My stomach hurts!" Rayne clutched her stomach and screamed, then rushed to the bathroom.

Less than a minute after coming out, she grabbed her stomach again and ran back in.

Derek pressed himself against the door worriedly. "Ray, are you okay?"

"My stomach hurts so bad!"

I smiled to myself as I continued eating. I'd bought a massive dose of laxatives from the pharmacy. Rayne was greedy and ate too much, so naturally her stomach would pay the price.

Of course, Derek blamed me for Rayne's upset stomach. He knocked the plate out of my hands and raised his hand to slap me.

"You jinx, did you buy rotten fish? If anything happens to Ray, I'll skin you alive!"

Before Derek could finish, his hand involuntarily moved to clutch his own stomach. His face twisted in pain as he hunched over, unable to hold it in anymore.

"I'll deal with you later…"

Derek crouched outside the bathroom door, pounding on it hard. "Ray, how much longer are you going to be?"

Then Alessia joined in. "Ray, honey, hurry up. I need to use the bathroom too."

One big happy family, taking turns rushing to the bathroom without a moment's rest. After a few rounds, they were all dehydrated.

They knew I was behind it, but Derek didn't even have the strength left to curse me out. I called 911, and all three of them were loaded into the ambulance.

With no one home, I pried open Derek's drawer and found my ID and three payroll cards.

I packed my bags and had a friend come pick them up. My escape route was ready. Everything was in place. It was time for the so-called jinx to show what he could really do.