That night, I carefully set my alarms before heading to bed, eager to ensure I wouldn’t miss my college entrance exam. Ever since losing my mom to cancer, I’ve dreamed of becoming a doctor, especially an oncologist, to help others facing the same battle she did. In my heart, it felt like the ultimate tribute I could pay to her memory.
The next morning, I awoke peacefully, undisturbed by my alarms. Confused, I grabbed my phone only to find out that the alarms had been turned off. Panic surged through me as I realized the exam was just minutes away, and I might miss my one chance to enroll in medical school.
I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs, where I found my stepmom, Linda, sipping her morning coffee. Desperately, I explained what had happened and pleaded with her to drive me to the exam center. With a smile, she said, “You should have set your alarm. Maybe this is a sign you’re not meant for med school.” Her words were like a dagger, and it seemed she was pleased by my predicament.
With no other choice, I started to walk, aware that I had little hope of reaching the location in time.
Just then, my little brother Jason chimed in, “Em, I’ve got a surprise for you. Help is on the way!” I was puzzled, but soon heard the approach of police sirens.
“Em, it was Linda who turned off your alarms. I saw her sneaking into your room during the night,” Jason revealed.
Linda unapologetically admitted it, saying she sabotaged me because she thought my dad’s plan to fund my medical school was foolish. Her goal was to open a beauty salon, believing my dad should invest in her business instead.
At that moment, the police arrived. Jason explained everything, and one of the officers, a compassionate woman, turned to Linda and asked if what Jason said was true. Naturally, she denied it all.
The officers exchanged a look, and the kind woman said, “Well, we’re here to help people. Let’s get you to your exam.”
We arrived just as the exam was about to begin. Fortunately, there was a brief delay, but the doors were already shut.
A vigilant proctor noticed us and approached. “You’re late for the exam,” he remarked, puzzled.
Still shaken, I struggled to find words, but the officers stepped in, explaining how I had been victimized by a family member. As the proctor listened, his rigid expression softened. Hesitantly, he nodded and allowed me to take a seat.
After hours of focus, I emerged from the exam room with relief washing over me, grateful to my little brother, a true hero in my life.
When I returned home, my dad enveloped me in a reassuring hug. Jason had already filled him in, but he wanted to hear the story from me. As I recounted the morning’s events, anger reddened my dad’s face. He turned to Linda with finality, instructing her to pack her belongings. Her presence was no longer welcome, and although he’d realized that long ago, this incident was the last straw.
Linda made no attempt to apologize. Her lack of remorse was evident, and I felt no pity for her actions.
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