Chapter 2

I stared at the words on the screen. I knew every single one, but when they were strung together, it felt like a whole different language.

So, in Emily eyes, I was just an "old woman."

All those twenty-five years, she never once saw me as family.

I turned to look out the window. The sky in June was so blue it didn't seem real, and the pothos on the windowsill was so green it almost glowed.

The world was so beautiful, it didn't feel like something someone about to die should be seeing.

My phone buzzed again.

I looked down and saw a text from the bank: [Your debit card ending in 3827 has been charged 1 dollar. Current balance: 29 dollars.]

Right after that, a new message from Emily popped up. I had no idea when she'd taken me off her block list. Maybe she just wanted to watch my downfall for her own amusement.

Emily: [Jessica, I tried your card and it still worked. I managed to transfer one dollar. Your card is basically empty now, I almost feel bad taking more.

[Oh, and I forgot to tell you, Lucas proposed to me last week. The ring is two carats. You said the bouquet he gave you was pretty, but I was the one who picked it out. He couldn't even find the flower shop himself.

[Jessica, don't get mad at me for being blunt, but you really need to face reality. You're just a nail artist who didn't even graduate middle school. Did you seriously think Lucas would ever like you?

[He was only ever after helping me, your little sister.

[After all, once you're gone, all your money will end up with me anyway. So what's the difference if I get it now or later?]

I closed my eyes.

Outside the window, a bird was singing, its voice so clear and bright.

The door to the hospital room opened, and Zoe came in with my meds. She saw my hand trembling as I gripped my phone and hurried over. "Ms. Frost, you look terrible. Should I call the doctor?"

I shook my head, set my phone aside, and swallowed the pills.

The pills were so bitter that the taste lingered on my tongue, numbing it.

But honestly, that bitterness was nothing compared to all the suffering I'd been through in my life.

I leaned back against the pillow, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, and suddenly, I let out a laugh.

If I could start over, I'd never let myself be that naive again.

I wouldn't drop out of school; I wouldn't throw my life away for anyone. I wouldn't set my bank password to somebody else's birthday. I wouldn't hand over every cent I had to a person who saw me as a wallet.

If I could do it all over again...

As I drifted off, the exhaustion from chemo washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes, and my mind started to fade.

My last thought was that if there was an afterlife, I was done being Emily's sister.

Never again.

And Lucas wasn't off the hook either.

In the afterlife, I'd make sure he learned what it felt like to be used, thrown away, and left with nothing at all.

I felt agony.

It felt like someone was twisting a dull knife in my stomach.

I shot my eyes open, and right above me was an old ceiling lamp, its shade caked with dust, the bulb giving off a dim, yellowish glow.

I recognized this lamp.

This was the lamp from the old rental room I lived in when I was sixteen.

The walls were chipped green, the window frames rusted, and a washed-out floral curtain hung limply. The air was thick with a damp, musty smell, mixed with the greasy aroma of fried dough from the breakfast stall downstairs.

I jolted upright in bed.

I glanced down at my hands, slender and clean, with clear knuckles. There were no calluses, no frostbite, and no rough, water-worn lines. They looked untouched, like I'd never worked a day in my life.

On the nightstand, an old flip phone sat, its screen glowing with the date. It was August 31, 2012.

2012. The year everything changed.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding like crazy.

I tried to remember what happened that year. In 2012, I was sixteen, and our parents had just passed away three months before. Emily was thirteen.

The relatives kept passing us around; nobody wanted to take us in. I was just a kid, left with a thirteen-year-old sister, tossed into a cramped city apartment for one hundred dollars a month, left to survive on our own.

My homeroom teacher called to ask why I wasn't in school. I told her I had family stuff to deal with. She didn't press me, probably figured it out, but nobody ever really reached out to help.

That was the year I made the first decision that would ruin my life, dropping out of school.

I was sixteen, ranked third in my entire school, and the teachers kept saying I could totally get into a top college.

But I couldn't stand the thought of Emily suffering.