My Family Are All Worms
Chapter 1
My cousin got pregnant with an XYY baby and cried to me, asking what she should do.
I told her it was a genetic disorder, but she turned to her husband and sobbed, “My sister wants me to get rid of our son, but I can’t bear to.”
Her husband, enraged, stormed into my house with a knife.
He literally butchered me.
Reborn, I returned to the day my cousin had her amniocentesis.
She looked at me, pitiful as ever, “The doctor said something’s wrong with the baby, sis, what should I do…?”
I smiled, a cruel, hard smile. “Have it, of course!”
01.
My cousin watched as my carotid artery was punctured.
Her tears mingled with my blood, flowing freely, yet she never reached out to help.
At first, I counted – one, two, three, four…
But as my consciousness faded, I lost track.
All I remember is the agony, the countless wounds, my soul trembling even after it left my body.
It hurt so much, so damn much…
As I breathed my last, my cousin finally, shakily, dialed 911.
Not for me.
At first, I scoffed, thinking she should have called the police, not paramedics. It was too late for me.
But then I heard her first words –
“Doctor… I’m having contractions… the stress… save my baby…”
My eyes widened, I reached out to strangle her, but my hand passed through her.
I died because of her, and she blamed my blood for stressing her unborn child?!
My cousin, Ashley, met her husband, Ryan, on a blind date.
After a whirlwind romance – a first date that led straight to bed, a proposal within a week, halved dowry, no name on the house or car – despite my constant warnings, she married him.
Married to a calculating man who clearly didn’t respect women, her life was predictably miserable. She’d come crying to me every other day.
Each time, I’d advise her, “Leave him. You’re young, you have no kids, you can find someone better. You deserve better.”
But she’d just cry, sobbing, never responding.
Worse, she’d repeat my words to Ryan:
“My sister says I could have any man I want.”
“You better treat me right…”
“Or I’ll listen to her and divorce you!”
Naturally, Ryan resented me. He’d make snide remarks, and once, he even tagged me in a family group chat, telling me to stop interfering in their marriage.
And my cousin, the one I was trying to protect? She just sent a “Hubby, you’re so strong~” emoji. No defense, no support.
After that, I stopped advising her. I’d play Candy Crush while she cried, offering empty platitudes.
I never imagined that during those tearful weeks, she’d gotten pregnant!
And then, during the amniocentesis, they discovered the fetus had XYY syndrome.
XYY syndrome is a genetic condition. Normal males have XY chromosomes, but XYY means an extra Y chromosome.
And having an extra or missing chromosome is dangerous.
Children with XYY syndrome are often prone to developmental delays, impulsive behavior, and aggression. In the worst cases, they can become a danger to themselves and others.
After careful consideration, I decided to talk to Ashley one last time.
“You’re only twenty-three. You have plenty of time to have healthy babies. You could terminate this pregnancy and try again when you’re ready.”
I never imagined this advice would cost me my life.
Ashley, once again, went crying to Ryan:
“My sister wants me to abort our son, but I can’t do it.”
Ryan, already harboring resentment towards me and obsessed with carrying on his family name, snapped.
He grabbed a knife, stormed into my apartment, and hacked me to pieces.
With no way to hide the body, Ryan was quickly arrested.
But on the day of his sentencing, Ashley produced a document proving his mental instability, saving him from the death penalty.
After the trial, Ashley collapsed, clutching her belly, whispering to the air, “Sis, you understand, right? You always loved me. A child needs a father. You wouldn’t blame me, right?”
No!
I wanted to tear them both apart, limb from limb!
If I could do it over, I’d send them both to hell myself!
As that thought crossed my mind, a white light flashed, and I blacked out.
I opened my eyes to Ashley’s pitiful face:
“The doctor said something’s wrong with the baby, sis. What should I do…?”
02.
I was in my apartment, the one I rented for the convenience of my job.
The laurel I’d placed in a vase just before I died was still fresh, unstained by blood.
My severed hand and foot weren’t by the door.
Taking a deep breath, I realized – I was reborn!
I gently stroked Ashley’s innocent face.
That face, always so pure, so fragile. I wondered what she’d look like if I stripped away the mask, revealing the selfishness and malice beneath.
It would be ten times more interesting, I bet.
So, I smiled, a cruel, hard smile, and said, “Have it, of course!”
Have it, Ashley.
This XYY child will likely be infertile, ending Ryan’s family line, and filling your marriage with blame and abuse.
He will raise a knife, driven by uncontrolled rage, against all of you, one day.
I can’t wait to see who cries louder – me, as I’m dismembered, or you and Ryan, as your own son destroys you?
“But… the doctor said he might be difficult…”
I took her hand, my voice full of false concern. “But he’s your son, Ashley. Your flesh and blood. A son! Think of it – a son will give you leverage with Ryan’s mother. She won’t be able to push you around anymore.”
Ashley was swayed, but she continued to whine, “But… but…”
Inwardly, I sneered.
Last time, when I genuinely tried to help, you accused me of wanting to harm your baby. Now, I don’t advise you, and suddenly, you’re thinking clearly, analyzing the pros and cons?
Want an abortion? Over my dead body. Literally.
Without this child, who will avenge me?
Who will ensure my escape?
So, I delivered the final blow –
“They say XYY babies have an extra male chromosome. They’re like superheroes! He’ll grow up to be your protector. You’ll never have to be afraid again.”
That did it. Ashley’s hesitation vanished.
Her eyes hardened with a new resolve, and she gently caressed her belly, her face filled with dreams of a bright future.
I smiled along with her.
She smiled in her ignorance.
I smiled in anticipation.
This child would be a protector, alright. Not hers, but mine.
