The Devoted Grandma Was My Poisoner

My grandmother always told me I was a curse, a jinx who killed her only son. Yet when I ended up paralyzed, she stayed by my side, taking care of me night and day. When I got into college on a full scholarship, she thought our bitter days were finally behind us. Instead, I handed every single cent over to my gambling-addict aunt. Then, I set up a live stream titled: "Death Countdown for a Lonely 80-Year-Old Woman." The internet exploded with fury, calling me an ungrateful monster and wishing me the worst possible fate. My grandmother never blamed me. She kept scavenging scrap metal and cleaning public restrooms just to save up for my wheelchair and college tuition. Eventually, she collapsed from exhaustion and illness. Frail and bedridden, she begged the viewers online: "Please don't blame the child. She's had a hard life." The entire internet told me to burn in hell. I didn't care at all. "Keep watching my stream," I said into the camera. "And you'll soon see who truly belongs in hell." Barely recovered from her latest illness, my grandmother, Martha, dragged her hunched body into the kitchen to cook for me. Obsessed with keeping my meals balanced, she had spent the entire morning carefully filleting fresh fish, picking out every bone to simmer a thick, rich broth. Determined to serve both meat and greens, she suppressed her chest-rattling coughs to sauté a fresh plate of vegetables. She finally pushed the bedside tray table right in front of me, arranged the fork and spoon, and handed me the utensils. "Sweetheart, time to eat. The fish is fresh today. I tasted it myself—it's not fishy at all." With her own stomach growling, she blew on a spoonful of the hot soup until it cooled, then brought it to my lips. "You're blowing your spit all over it. It's disgusting. I don't want it." Worry etched deep lines across her face, yet her voice remained infinitely gentle. "Good girl, how are you going to get better if you don't eat? You've always loved fish." I shoved the bowl aside and turned toward my aunt, Brenda, who was eating a bowl of noodles in the corner. "Brenda, your noodles smell amazing. I want some." Brenda was scrolling through TikTok and didn't even look up, her tone cold and dismissive. "I made this for myself. If you want some, crawl your way into the kitchen and cook it." Martha offered an appeasing smile, trying to smooth things over. "Sweetheart, if you want noodles, I can cook them in the fish broth for you." I sneered. "Who knows which dumpster you dragged that dead fish out of? I'm not touching it. I only want what Brenda made." Brenda finally lifted her gaze, a shrewd glint in her eyes. "Nothing in this house is free. Old woman, give me a hundred bucks, and your precious granddaughter can have the rest." Trembling, Martha stood on her tiptoes to take down a dented, chipped metal tin from the top of the closet. Inside lay the crumpled bills she had earned from collecting recycling and doing odd cleaning jobs. She fumbled around, pulling out a handful of battered banknotes until she managed to put together a hundred dollars, handing it over to Brenda. Brenda hurriedly shoveled down half the bowl before snatching the cash, greedily counting every bill. "Don't say your aunt never looks out for you. Consider this your lucky day." A greasy smear of red lipstick stained the rim of the bowl, and the broth inside looked dark and cloudy. Without a second thought, I pulled the bowl toward me and began eating greedily. The chat went completely feral. [The grandmother is such an angel! She worked so hard to make that meal, and this brat won't even look at it just to eat someone else's dirty leftovers!] [Is that aunt even related to her? Charging a hundred bucks for cold leftovers? What a parasite!] [The poor old lady saves every single dollar and never spends on herself, and she gets ripped off by that leech just for her granddaughter.] [The granddaughter is pure trash! Rejecting fresh food to lick up her aunt's leftover spit? What the hell is wrong with her?!] [Just looking at her makes my blood boil. The old lady should just let her starve! Why bother taking care of her?!] [I actually recognize her! She's infamous around our block. Keep watching, guys—the worst is yet to come.]At three in the morning, those leftover noodles wreaked total havoc on my stomach. I leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up uncontrollably, sour, foul-smelling vomit splashing everywhere. At the same time, a warm, humiliating mess broke past all control, spreading beneath me. Hearing the commotion, Martha instantly shot up from the cot in the hallway. Dragging her exhausted, aging body into the room, she rushed to clean me up. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let you eat those noodles. Let Grandma get you cleaned up, sweetheart." She wiped me down with utmost care, but her trembling, arthritic hands slipped and grazed against my bedsores. "Ow! Stop touching me! Are your hands even clean?!" Guilt washed over Martha's face. Every wince of pain from me was pure torture to her. She endured the sting of her cracked, bleeding hands as she soaked them repeatedly in hot water before daring to touch me again. The noise woke Brenda up. "What the hell is going on? Can a person get some sleep around here?!" Gagging at the foul stench, Brenda refused to step inside, lingering by the doorway to complain. "Looks decent on the outside, but underneath, you're rotting away. Pus, crap, vomit—it's enough to make me puke up my dinner. Living with you two freaks is an absolute curse." Martha couldn't bear to hear her insult me. "Brenda, the child isn't feeling well. If you can't lend a hand, the least you could do is keep your mouth shut." "She's a useless burden barely clinging to life. Living like this is pure misery anyway. Just let her soak in her own filth and die." "I let you live under this roof rent-free, and the tens of thousands from her scholarship all went to you! Just shut your mouth!" Brenda put her hands on her hips, snapping right back. "Listen to you, old hag! So what if I say a few words? That measly cash wasn't even enough to cover an hour at the casino tables! You spend your days wallowing in public restrooms and your nights wiping her ass. Of course you're used to the stench! Hell, you probably miss it if you don't smell it for a day." [Wait, the aunt is a freeloader?! Who the hell gave her the right to talk to the grandmother like that? Stand up for yourself, Grandma!] [So the aunt is the one mooching off them? Not the grandma or the girl? Why put up with her crap?! Kick her out!] Completely ignoring Brenda's vicious insults, I snapped at Martha instead. "I gave Brenda that money willingly! She can treat me however she wants, and I'll still be happy! Hurry the hell up, or are you trying to freeze me to death?!" Brenda rolled her eyes dramatically. "A paralyzed piece of trash wallowing in her own shit, paired with an old fossil—you both deserve every second of this!" Rage and humiliation choked Martha. She fought to swallow her sobs, but massive tears kept rolling down her withered cheeks. "Don't listen to her, sweetheart. You're not dirty. You got into college! You're never a burden." "Your tears are getting on my blanket. It's gross." Martha struggled on her weak legs, hauling the heavy, soiled bedding into the bathroom to wash it by hand. I slept in until broad daylight. When I finally opened my eyes, Martha was dragging the freshly washed blankets out to dry. Days of relentless labor had completely drained the life out of her; she wobbled, nearly collapsing onto the floor. When she saw me looking her way, her face lit up with pure joy. "Sweetheart, Grandma isn't tired at all! I'm just happy you slept well. I'll go brew your herbal medicine right away." The live stream was already inundated with angry comments. [God, this breaks my heart... That poor old woman is working herself into the grave to wait on her hand and foot, and she doesn't show an ounce of gratitude.] [This girl doesn't deserve love. Grandma, let her and that deadbeat aunt rot together! Stop caring for them!] [Lame legs, blind heart! She can't even tell who actually loves her!] [Karma is coming for you! You're going to burn in hell right alongside your aunt.] [She deserves to be paralyzed. No pity for her whatsoever! If she wants to self-destruct, leave the poor grandma out of it!] [Her grandmother treats her like gold, yet she treats her like dirt and sucks up to a vicious leech. WHY?! Just WHY?!]Martha carefully carried a steaming bowl of medicine over, desperate pleading etched into every wrinkle around her eyes. "Sweetheart, drink your medicine. Dr. Lee said this blend improves blood circulation and helps your nerves recover. It's good for your legs." I glanced coldly at the dark liquid, then swung my arm with all my might. "I'm not drinking it!" The scalding liquid splashed across Martha's hand before she could pull back, making her gasp in sharp agony. Her calloused skin turned bright red instantly, blistering within seconds. "Well, well, look at this family drama," Brenda chimed in, leaning against the doorframe while cracking sunflower seeds. "Old woman, I told you so. You're just begging to be humiliated." Trembling with pain, Martha didn't even look at her own burned hand; she immediately checked on me. "Sweetheart, did it burn you? Are you hurt?" Brenda rolled her eyes and reached up toward the top of the closet to grab Martha's change tin, accidentally knocking over a heavy wooden chest beside it. The crate tumbled toward my head. Without a second thought, Martha threw herself over me, shielding me with her own body. With a sickening thud, she crumpled, her forehead slamming against the sharp edge of the bed frame. Blood welled up instantly from a deep gash. Panting, she glared up at Brenda in pure fury. "Brenda! Can't you be careful?! What if that hit her?!" "If it crushed her to death, it would've saved you the trouble of dragging a useless burden around. Why keep a cripple alive anyway?" Martha lay collapsed beside the mattress, too weak to sit upright, yet she forced herself to look up at me. "Did... did it hit you...?" I looked away, turning to Brenda instead. "Brenda, are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Brenda didn't even glance back at me, busily stuffing the loose cash into her pockets. "At least you've got some sense, kid. But this pocket change isn't gonna cut it." "There's a pair of silver bangles in the wooden trunk under Grandma's bed," I said casually. "They came from her bridal dowry. They should fetch some cash." [WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY?! The silver bangles?! How dare she! Those are family heirlooms her grandma kept for decades!] [The old lady literally threw herself over you to take the blow, you heartless psycho! Her hand is covered in bloody blisters right now!] [Your aunt is literally wishing you dead, and you're helping her rob your own grandma?! Grandma, run! Get the hell away from this monster!] [She's bleeding from the head and her first instinct was to check on you. You don't deserve her!] [Someone shake this paralyzed girl awake! Are you brain-dead too?! Giving everything to that leech?!] Brenda immediately dropped to her knees to rummage under the bed. The battered old woman threw herself across the floor, desperately trying to stop her. "No! You can't take those! That's the emergency money for her food and medicine! That's our lifeline!" "Your pathetic lives aren't worth shit." Brenda snatched the bangles away. Martha clung desperately to the hem of Brenda's pants, weeping and begging her to leave the jewelry for me. "Keep testing me, old hag," Brenda sneered, kicking her off. "Once you kick the bucket, I'll take my sweet time torturing your precious granddaughter. I'll make her beg for death. I'll snap her arms, gouge out her eyes, and dump her on the street corner like a pile of rotting meat to beg for pennies." Martha's grip slowly slipped away, the light in her eyes dying completely. Three years ago, Brenda had used that exact threat against me to force her way into our home and live off us. Back then, my legs hadn't been completely numb yet. The live stream chat went into overdrive, shooting straight to the top of the platform's trending list. [So that's why she's harboring that parasite... It's all to protect her ungrateful granddaughter! She's terrified of what'll happen to the girl once she's gone. I'm crying...] [She works herself to the bone, takes beatings and abuse, all for a granddaughter who kisses the feet of a cold-blooded monster. This poor woman...] [Wait, SHE'S SMILING! Look at the screenshot! The paralyzed girl is smiling!] [Her grandmother is the only one who truly loves her! The aunt is an absolute monster! Why the hell is she catering to the monster?! What is going on here?!] [Can someone please explain this to me?! Why? Why is she acting like this?!] Go on, keep screaming. Keep cursing me. In a few days, every single one of you will know the truth.After roughly rinsing the blood and bruises from her face, Martha came back to comb my hair. "Sweetheart, I dreamed about when you were little again last night." "You had just learned to walk back then, your hair in two tiny pigtails. Whenever I went out collecting bottles, you'd waddle right behind me, and you never cried when you tripped." Wringing out a warm towel, she gently wiped my face with her bony, liver-spotted hands. "And remember that winter carnival? You cried your eyes out on the pavement because you wanted that giant rabbit lantern, but I couldn't afford it. I had to work a whole month cleaning stalls in the freezing cold just to earn that lantern for you. Do you remember that?" I turned my face away from her pleading gaze, staring blankly at the peeling paint on the wall. With immense effort, she helped me change into clean clothes and placed a cup of warm water on my nightstand. She pulled up a wooden stool, sat beside my bed, and took my limp hand into hers, desperately waiting for any hint of warmth. "Whenever I used to cough, your little hands would pat my back. When my hands cracked in the winter, you promised you'd buy me a warm coat when you grew up. Whenever someone gave you a piece of fruit, you always insisted Grandma took the first bite." A flood of memories I had locked away for years rushed through my mind. I shook my head, shutting them down. When I met her cloudy, aging eyes again, there was only cold resentment and detachment left in mine. [That hollow look in her eyes is sickening! Every single flashback is pure torture!] [Does she have no heart at all?! Her grandmother raised her from a baby! Why would she choose that freeloading aunt over her?!] [Looking at her deadpan face makes me want to reach through the screen and slap her!] [Stop talking to her, Grandma! She doesn't deserve your breath! She's not worth it!] [I can't stand this! What makes her act so damn superior?! She's a cripple who only knows how to lick a parasite's boots!] [Useless burden! All she knows is giving the cold shoulder! Why treat her grandma like this?! Hasn't she done enough for you?!] "No matter how hard it got back then, I always told myself I couldn't fall," Martha whispered, her voice trembling. "If I fell, my baby girl wouldn't have a home anymore. I survived all of it. You were such a sweet child... How did you become like this?" My silence and cold indifference cut deeper than any dagger. Martha gathered the soiled laundry and left the room. The creak of the door sounded like a long, mournful sigh, followed by the muffled sound of weeping in the hall. When she came back, she had wiped her tears. She looked like a completely different person. She was finally pushed to the edge.