My younger brother, Tony Wilson sent me a message to accuse me: [I'm getting engaged next month. If I can't buy this house today, I won't let you off.]
My younger sister, Yolanda Wilson sent me several voice messages in a row. "Alice, don't be so petty. It was Tony who was wrong last time. Didn't Dad already apologize to you in person?
"Don't be angry. At worst, I can move the piano out of your room and return your room to you."
When my stepfather, Sam Wilson called my cell phone, it was turned off.
He, who was usually taciturn, was so angry that he kicked the chair far away.
He yelled at Mary, "Look at your daughter. I told you not to let her work so far away. Now she's grown independent and won't even answer calls from her family.
"Does she consider us as her family?"
They weren't angry that I didn't treat them as family. They were just angry that I was going to break free from their control.
But I was already dead.
Mary looked like someone was strangling her throat and her face turned ashen.
In her words, I had brought shame to her at this moment.
I knew that I was the only outsider in this family since I was young.