Chapter 3

It was late at night.

I lay in bed, the pain in my chest coming in waves, each one sharper and more frequent than the last.

Cold sweat soaked through my pajamas as I curled up into a ball, feeling like an abandoned rag doll.

I fumbled for my phone, the cold light from the screen illuminating my pale face.

I wanted to call Damian.

This was my last cry for help.

Maybe he'd feel a flicker of pity.

Maybe he'd remember how, when we were kids, he'd carry me home on his back and share his only piece of candy with me.

I hit dial.

It rang for what felt like forever before he finally picked up.

The background was a mess of noise. People were wailing off-key in a KTV. Men were laughing like hyenas.

"Hello? Who is this?" Damian sounded drunk and annoyed.

"Damian, it's me," I whispered, so soft it was barely a whisper.

"Prunella? Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Are you losing it again?" Damian's voice instantly went cold.

I managed to say, using every bit of strength I had, "I feel really awful. Damian, could you come home?"

I could hear his friends jeering in the background.

"Damian, who's that? Is your girlfriend checking up on you?" one of them joked.

"Get lost, it's my sister," Damian replied impatiently, then lowered his voice and hissed into the phone, "Prunella, what do you want from me?

"I'm getting married tomorrow. Can't you let me be? I'm here with important clients, and you want me to go back? Do you even care about my future?"

His words echoed in my mind.

I didn't even matter as much as his clients.

"I feel awful..." My head was spinning, and every breath carried the metallic taste of blood.

Damian snapped, cutting me off, "Enough. Stop pretending. You always pull this stunt.

"I'm sick of it. If you're really that bad, call an ambulance yourself. Don't bother me!"

He hung up on me.

The beeping in my ear sounded like a countdown to the end for me.

I let out a bitter laugh.

While I was laughing, tears started streaming down my face.

He told me to call an ambulance myself.

Damian was my brother.

I tossed my phone aside and reached under my pillow for a small bottle of white pills.

They were painkillers the doctor gave me, strong enough to knock me out if I took too many.

The doctor had warned me to never take more than a couple at a time.

I stared at the bottle, my gaze hollow.

That phone call shattered whatever will I had left to live.

I couldn't bring myself to keep struggling.

I was so tired.

Every single day felt like I was being punished for being alive.

I was punished for not being good enough, for not being mature enough, and for simply existing.

But now, I didn't want to pay for it anymore.

I popped open the bottle and poured all the pills into my palm.

Then, one after another, I slowly pushed them into my mouth.

With nothing to help them go down, I swallowed them dry.

The pills scratched my throat, their bitterness lingering as they went down.

I wanted to ask my dad, my mom, and my brother if they always thought I was annoying to them.

Tomorrow, I would give this world, whole and untouched, back to them.

This world would be peaceful and perfect, without me in it.

This was my final gift to them.

I wanted to congratulate my brother on the wedding.

Right before everything went black, I could swear I heard fireworks going off outside my window.

It sounded like a party out there.

It was a shame that it had nothing to do with me.