Blurb：
When Mia was six, her mother Sarah was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, turning their family life upside down. Now fifteen and diagnosed with terminal leukemia, Mia faces unimaginable cruelty from her father and brother Alex, who prioritize Sarah's mental health over Mia's suffering. Witness the tragic tale of a girl abandoned by her own family as she battles leukemia alone. This emotional story explores themes of parental neglect, sibling betrayal, and the devastating impact of bipolar disorder on family dynamics. Will anyone believe Mia's terminal diagnosis before it's too late?Content：
When I was six years old, my mom suddenly got sick.A doctor told us she had bipolar disorder and couldn’t be stressed.
Dad patted my head and whispered, “Be good, Mia. Mom’s sick—we have to be patient with her.”
I bit my lip and nodded quietly.
From that day on, Mom became the center of our family.
I was no longer the little princess everyone doted on.
……
On my fifteenth birthday, my medical report read “terminal leukemia.”
I brought it home, hoping to tell Dad this sad truth.
But he frowned at me and snapped, “Where have you been running off to? You should be here looking after your mother!”
I pulled the report from my pocket, but before I could hand it over, he snatched it, crumpled it, and threw it in the trash.
“Don’t bring this nonsense around—you’ll upset your mother!”
Upset her… again.
I stared into that trash can—at my ‘death sentence’ lying inside.
But no one cared.
Mom tore at my scalp until my hair fell off.
Blood dripped down.
“You little brat! You wore that dress just to provoke me!”
That’s what she always called me when she had an episode.
Even though I was her own daughter.
“Why would you wear a dress to upset Mom on purpose?” my brother shouted.
Bang!
A sharp pain exploded in the back of my head.
I collapsed.
Dad had thrown a ashtray at me.
He rushed to Mom’s side, throwing his coat over her shoulders. “Are you okay, Sarah?”
All he saw were her tearful, reddened eyes—not the blood pouring from my head.
Mom pointed at me, putting on a pitiful expression.
“I didn’t mean to… I just lost my temper.”
She covered her face and sobbed.
Dad held her tightly and kicked me in the belly hard.
“It’s alright! It’s not your fault! It’s Mia’s!”
I clawed at the wall, trying to stand—my nails broke against the plaster.
“Dad… Alex…”
The words barely made it out of my throat.
No surprise—they didn’t hear me.
My brother stepped on my hand as he passed, fussing over Mom with soothing words.
His voice was so gentle.
But before I turned six, they used to comfort me like that too.
Dad would read me stories and check on me late at night.
Alex always saved the best candy for me.
They treated me like I was everything—they bought me pretty dresses in every color because I loved them.
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