Daddy Doesn't Like Me
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Summary
He says I'm a pathological liar.
Just like my mother, always faking illness and playing the victim to beg for sympathy.
On my eighteenth birthday, I called him, my voice trembling with desperation: "Please, just show up this once. If you don't, I will die."
His voice on the other end was icy and indifferent: "So you've learned to threaten me now? Then go ahead and die."
The line went dead. I smiled, my heart entirely hollowed out.
The mechanical chime of the System echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host termination sequence initiating—]
I died on the day of my eighteenth birthday.
