Chapter 6
One of the homeless guys called 911, and I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.
When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital room, completely alone.
Outside, the sun was shining bright for once.
But even with sunlight pouring in, the room still felt cold as an icebox.
I checked my phone. There were no calls or messages.
My dad hadn't come to see me, and he hadn't called either.
I opened up his social media and saw he'd posted a new update.
In the photo, he was at home, celebrating his adopted daughter's fifteenth birthday.
On the table was a pink cake with candles, the same style I used to adore.
The caption read: [My daughter died seven years ago. Today, I brought her back into my life.]
Ever since that day seven years ago, he'd asked me over and over, "Why couldn't it have been you who died?"
And now, he finally made his wish come true.
He acted like I was already gone, erased me from his life, and replaced me with someone else.
He didn't hate me anymore. He'd abandoned me completely.
He posted that update while I was desperately calling him for help last night.
It made sense why he cut me off so quickly.
Too exhausted to hold on, I let my phone drop, my throat tightening as I struggled not to cry.
Maybe that was for the best.
Just pretend I was already gone. Anyway, I'd be gone soon.
I asked the doctor to let me leave.
I was out of money. I couldn't afford to stay in the hospital anymore.
The doctor stared at me, totally shocked. "You're leaving now? Do you know how serious your condition is?"
I answered, totally calm, "I know. That's exactly why I need to leave."
Even if I stayed in the hospital, it wouldn't change anything.
The doctor signed my discharge papers and started writing me a prescription.
I pulled out the last bit of cash I had and pleaded with him, "Please, give me some painkillers.
"Just something cheap for the pain. I don't care about the side effects. Nothing else, please."
As I got up to leave the doctor's office with my prescription, I turned around and saw my dad standing in the doorway.
He'd brought his new daughter with him.
He was leaning on a cane with one hand, holding her test results in the other.
He looked right through me, his eyes cold and indifferent.
He spoke to the doctor inside, "Could you check my daughter's results? She has a cold."
The doctor replied, "The respiratory department is downstairs. Did you come to the wrong place?"
He wasn't here for me.
I walked right past my dad and headed for the elevator.
Just as I was about to step into the elevator, my dad's voice suddenly rang out behind me. "Yesterday, I went to the police station. I brought the footage of you admitting everything."
I stopped in my tracks.
I turned and realized my dad had followed me out.
The little girl was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe it was the fever messing with my head, but I found his expression was kind of awkward.
It reminded me of when I was a kid, sneaking ice cream with my brother even though I knew it was bad for my heart.
He'd scold me, but at the same time, he'd wipe the cream off my mouth with a tissue.
He looked annoyed and pissed off.
But there was something else in his eyes, almost like he cared about me.
How stupid I was. After everything that had happened, how could he possibly still care about me?
I pulled myself together and nodded. "Do you need me to go to the police station with you?"
He'd always said I should pay with my life, and that I needed to atone for my sins.
Since he'd gone to the police station, he was probably planning to press charges and lock me up.
He stood there, staying in silence for a long time.
I figured he wasn't even going to bother with me. He was letting me know to wait for the cops to come and haul me off to jail.
Just as I was about to step into the elevator, he suddenly spoke up, "The police won't arrest you."
My mind had been so foggy lately that I honestly had no idea how to respond.
After a long pause, I mumbled, "What a pity."
Only after I said it did I realize how much it sounded like I was straight-up mocking him, almost daring him to react. That was way out of line.
But the words were already out there, and there was no taking them back, so I stayed silent.
I waited, expecting him to call me heartless or shameless.
But after a long pause, he asked, "Why won't they arrest you?"
He didn't look like he was accusing or upset.
Instead, he looked confused, maybe even a little uneasy.
Maybe after seven years, with all those missing, jumbled memories, he was finally starting to sense that something wasn't right.
I honestly didn't know what to say.
I didn't want to get into the truth anymore.
I'd tried explaining it to him for seven years, but he never believed me.
My dad looked right at me for a long time.
The elevator doors behind me had long since opened and closed, leaving without me.
He glanced down at the prescription I was holding.
He said, "You think popping painkillers is gonna cure you?"
I couldn't meet his eyes, suddenly feeling guilty.
I said, "It's nothing. My heart's been acting up again.
"I've got the rest of my meds, but I'm out of painkillers. I needed to get a few more in case."
My dad asked, "You don't need that many. Are you sure the doctor didn't make a mistake with the prescription?"