Part 3The Cost of Charity: My Mother's Betrayal

Bright and early the next morning, right after Mark left for work, Aunt Sarah and my cousin, Jake, showed up at our door.

They played it smart this time. They didn't come empty-handed; they brought a basket of bruised, overripe apples.

"Oh, Harper, Auntie was just too stressed yesterday. I was out of line. Don't take it to heart."

Aunt Sarah slammed the apples onto the table, her eyes immediately darting around the room, hunting for her prize.

Finally, her gaze locked onto the physical therapy machine actively humming near my leg.

Mark had pulled strings to get that machine flown in from Germany. It cost eight thousand dollars and was specifically designed to prevent muscle atrophy after orthopedic surgery.

My surgeon had strictly ordered me to use it for four hours every single day.

"That's the therapy machine, right? Looks fancy."

Aunt Sarah marched over, reaching out to yank the plug from the wall.

"Perfect. My husband's back is acting up, and my daughter-in-law is complaining of aches. I'll take it back so the whole family can get some use out of it."

I slammed my hand down hard on the machine. "No."

"This is medical equipment, not a toy. If you use it wrong, you can get hurt. Plus, I'm actively doing my rehab. I can't stop."

Aunt Sarah's face instantly soured.

"Harper, why are you so selfish? Letting us borrow it for a few days isn't going to break it!"

My cousin Jake, who had been standing silently, suddenly lunged forward and violently shoved my hand away.

"Mom, why are you wasting breath on her! Aunt Liz already said we could take it!"

He grabbed the sides of the heavy machine and started lifting.

Panic seized me. Forgetting the heavy cast on my leg, I lunged forward, trying to stop him.

"That is mine! I'm not lending it to you! You're literally robbing me!"

Right at that moment, my mom walked out of the kitchen.

She was still holding a spatula. Without even glancing at me, she barked:

"Harper! Let go!"

"It's just a stupid machine! Let your cousin use it for a few days! What's the big deal?!"

"His wife has postpartum complications! You missing a couple of days won't kill you!"

I stared at my mother in utter disbelief.

"Mom, this is my lifeline for recovery! The doctor said if I stop using it for even one day, my muscles could atrophy!"

My mom rolled her eyes impatiently and marched over. "Stop listening to doctors trying to scare you! You're just being dramatic!"

Determined to help Jake steal the machine, she actually reached out and shoved me hard.

"Let go of it right now! Why do you have to be such a brat?!"

I was sitting in a wheelchair.

Her violent shove hit me right in the shoulder.

The wheelchair tipped backward.

I crashed heavily onto the hard tile floor.

The newly set bone in my leg slammed brutally against the solid marble.

CRACK!

Blinding, agonizing pain ripped through my entire body like a surge of electricity.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream, cold sweat instantly soaking through my clothes.

Aunt Sarah and Jake jumped back in shock, nearly dropping the heavy machine.

But they didn't put it down. Instead, they seized the opportunity, hoisted the machine, and bolted for the door.

Jake yelled over his shoulder, "She fell on her own! We didn't touch her!"

Aunt Sarah sprinted faster than a rabbit. "Exactly! You saw it, Liz! We didn't lay a finger on her!"

Clutching my lifeline of a medical device, they sprinted out the front door.

And my own mother stood frozen in place. She looked down at me writhing on the floor. A flash of panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resentment.

"Stop screaming! You're fine!"

"If you hadn't fought your own family for it, you wouldn't have fallen! It's your own fault!"