Her Good Intentions Killed Me Novel – My mother had a rebellious streak. Whatever people asked her not to do, she just had to do the opposite. Before the SATs, I told her not to touch my things. The next day, she stitched cheat sheets into the lining of my clothes. I was caught, branded a cheater, and expelled on the spot. I carried my academic file home and begged her not to touch it.
The moment I stepped out to use the bathroom, she tore it open and started rewriting it with a pen. When I confronted her, my father stepped in, saying she “meant well,” and urged me to be more understanding. The rage nearly drove me into a breakdown. The doctor diagnosed me with nervous exhaustion and told me to rest. My mother’s idea of “rest” was dragging a group of her so-called best malefriends into the living room to sing and dance, telling me I should join in—because “exercise keeps you healthy.” Molested by those men has given me depression.
One night, I grabbed a kitchen knife and demanded they give me back my dignity. My father and brother blocked me, “They’re just your mom’s best friends. You only lost your virginity . Don’t make a scene.” In the struggle, the blade slipped into my heart and the world faded. In the life to come, , I shall see my mother’s ‘kindness’ repaid upon all who received it—with suffering.” …… When I pulled a stack of cheat sheets from the seam of my clothes, my hands trembled violently. I knew then—I had been reborn. In my last life, my mother had insisted on packing for me. “Just focus on studying.
Leave everything else to me,” she’d said. I begged her not to touch my SAT prep materials. Instead, she sewed cheat sheets into my clothes. During the exam, the sheets fell out. I was accused of cheating, expelled, and laughed out of my school. I left school and walked home in a daze, clutching that academic file like a ghost clinging to its own remains. Once there, I warned her not to lay a finger on my file. While I was in the bathroom, she tore it open and started altering it with a pen.
I rushed out, shouting, “Didn’t I tell you not to touch it?! Do you not understand English?!” “Do you hate me that much? Will you only be satisfied once you’ve destroyed me?” She put on her innocent face. “I don’t understand these things. I just wanted to help you.” Before I could say another word, my brother kicked me to the ground. “You’re stupid anyway. Even if you took the test, you’d fail. And you still dare to blame Mom? You’re a worthless brat who deserves to die.” My brother was allergic to dairy.
My mom ignored the doctor’s orders and bought him a cream cake once—he nearly went into organ failure. But she blamed me for buying it. He grew to hate me, cursing that I deserved to die. My father tried to reasin with me too, “Your mom means well. You should try to understand her. Besides, what’s the use of girl studying anyway? It’s better to marry early. ” I can’t bear the crushing reality that my twelve years of hard work down the drain. The devastation knocked me unconscious.The doctor said I had developed a stress disorder and needed rest.
But my mom called me weak, still bringing her so-called best male friends to party in the house. “You need exercise. Exercise makes you healthy.” However, they molested me, whichcause my depression to worsen. One night, I grabbed a boning knife, ready to stab them. My father shielded them, grappling with me—until the knife drove into my heart. Even as I died, I heard my brother sneer: “She only lost her virginity. They’re Mom’s best friends. She never appreciated Mom’s good intentions.
Dying was what she deserved.” At that moment, I was consumed by regret, I never should have stopped my mother from wrecking their lives. …… This time I reborn, I wouldn’t stand in her way. I tossed the cheat sheets aside, acting as though nothing had happened. When her so-called “good intentions” finally backfired them… Well. That would be their fate, not mine.