The 300th IOU

From the time I was ten until I turned eighteen, my parents made me write 299 IOUs.

Every time I needed money, I had to borrow it and pay it back as an adult.

Then I got into a car accident. I needed money for surgery but was still short by 3,000.

With no other options, I went to my parents for help.

But they just gave me cold smiles.

“Clara, you’re eighteen now. We have no obligation to give you money anymore. If you need it, write another IOU.”

While holding back tears, I wrote my 300th IOU.

After my surgery, I saw my adopted sister’s social media post.

In the pictures, she was celebrating her 18th birthday on a cruise. She was the center of attention, like a princess.

My parents had given her a luxury apartment in the city and a Maserati as birthday gifts.

Even my childhood friend was looking at her with love in his eyes.

She said they were the ones she loved and thanked them for giving her the best of everything.

I looked down at the crumpled IOU in my hand and suddenly laughed.

Once I paid off my debt, I would no longer need such a family.

The house was empty when I got home from the hospital. Even the cleaning lady had the day off.

The lights were off in the empty house. Everything around me was pitch black. It was so quiet that I could hear my footsteps.

Even though I had expected this, I still felt a little sad. It felt like I was being treated unfairly.

It was not the first time I had been forgotten.

I took a deep breath and walked up to the second floor.

My legs, which had just recovered, were still weak, so I had to hold onto the railing and slowly make it to my room.

It was the smallest and darkest storage room in this luxurious villa.

I did not have much stuff.

There was just a bed and an old wooden table, and that was it.

I opened the drawer of the old wooden table. It was full of IOUs I had written to my parents over the years.

One, two… and with the one I was holding, it added up to exactly three hundred.

The amounts on the IOUs ranged from dozens to hundreds. They included my tuition and living expenses.

Altogether, it did not even reach 50,000.

I forced a smile, but it was bitter.

50,000!

Even the simplest piece of jewelry belonging to Rachel Quinn cost more than that.

It was no wonder my parents always called me cheap and said Rachel was more like their daughter.

I supposed I really could not live up to her.

I carefully folded the IOUs and put them in my pocket. As I was about to go downstairs, I heard voices outside.

“Dad, I want to eat the pan-fried trout Clara makes. Can you ask her for me?”

“Clara isn’t as obedient as you are. She’s gotten rebellious and didn’t even come to your coming-of-age ceremony. I don’t know where she’s off partying. When she gets back, I’ll make her cook it for you.”

I sneered at the irony.

I had told them I was in a car accident, but my own parents did not believe me.

They thought I was out partying to avoid Rachel’s coming-of-age ceremony.

They probably forgot that my birthday was the same day as Rachel’s.

Her coming-of-age ceremony should have been mine too.

The door opened. When they saw me standing on the stairs, the happy atmosphere between the three of them quickly dispersed.

I felt like an uninvited outsider who had barged in. My presence annoyed them.

My parents’ faces darkened. They were not as kind as they were with Rachel.

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights when you came back? What’s going on in your head?”

My mom scolded me with annoyance.

My dad also treated me like I was a servant.

“Didn’t you hear Rachel wants pan-fried trout? What are you standing there for? Go make it for her now.”