Escape From the Demon Family and Find Your True SelfChapter 1

How much does our upbringing really shape who we become?

Here I am, on the 38th floor—a single step away from nothingness.

To escape it all.

I was raised in an old-school family, the firstborn. I was told there was supposed to be a younger brother too. But complications at birth meant only one of us made it—it was me.

I survived, yet my mother never really looked my way.

That brother I never got to meet? Mom talked about him for years, as if he was an angel who was lost too soon.

Even my dad, who'd rather be playing poker, used to jab his finger at me and accuse, "You killed your brother and nearly took your mother too!"

Growing up, I couldn't figure out what I did to be so disliked. I learned to walk on eggshells, to gauge the mood, to blend into the background—all lessons from the home front.

I swore to myself early on—I'd leave this house, this city, and never look back.

So, at 18, when college apps were due, I took my shot at a university far, far away.

On the moving day, I lugged my bags, solo, to campus.

Standing amid the new faces, I saw others getting help from their parents with luggage, receiving worried instructions, and sharing tearful goodbyes.

I couldn't connect with that; never had it, never missed it.

All I felt was relief—I was finally out, anonymous, starting over somewhere new.

Week one and I was already hustling at a local café near campus, figuring I couldn't bank on my parents for cash.

I hit the books hard during the week and worked weekends.

After a year of flying solo, I split my savings. Half stayed with me, and half went back home.

I rang up my dad, "Dad, I'm staying put for the holidays. Take care of yourselves."

"Sure, stay away. Your mom would only get upset seeing you anyway," he shot back.

After hanging up, I chuckled bitterly. Right, I was the family curse, wasn't I? Might as well stay away.

New Year's Eve, while the world celebrated, I felt like the only soul left out in the cold.

I hate all the hype during festivals, and being alone is all I need.

Alone on the streets, watching the fireworks, I dared to make a wish for the very first time—wishing for the things I'd always longed for.

In my junior year, mid-lecture, the advisor pulled me aside.

"Kelly, you need to take this call. It's urgent... about your mom... She's gone. Heart attack."