Chapter 2
Sienna suddenly got "sick."
It started at breakfast.
She slapped both hands over her mouth and bolted for the bathroom. Her loud, dramatic gagging sounds echoed down the hall.
My mom panicked, still in her apron as she hovered over her, rubbing her back and handing her water.
Another episode followed in the living room.
While watching television, she pressed a hand to her temples. Her knees buckled, and she dropped onto the couch, moaning about intense dizzy spells.
The grand finale came late one night.
I was walking past Sienna's bedroom when I heard muffled, tragic sobbing.
My parents rushed in ahead of me. Looking past their shoulders, I saw clumps of hair scattered across her pillow. Tears streamed down her face.
"Mom, is there something wrong with me?" she whimpered. "I'm terrified. Is this going to kill me?"
The whole act was a direct copy of my secret diary.
Panic took over the house. My dad got on the phone and threw money at the most expensive private hospital in the city to get her a bed.
Then my parents carried Sienna out to the car, treating her like she was made of glass.
I stood in the shadows, my knuckles white as I gripped my crumpled cancer diagnosis.
"Mom, wait, I need to talk to you," I stammered, stepping in front of her. "Actually, I—"
"Get out of my way!" she shrieked, slapping my arm hard.
The blow knocked the paper from my grip. It drifted down into a muddy puddle on the front lawn.
"Are you insane, Wynne?" my mom snapped. "Your sister is terribly sick, and you want to make a scene? You really can't stand her getting any attention, can you?"
My dad stopped and glared at me. His eyes were dead and freezing.
He aimed a warning finger right at my face. "If anything happens to Sienna tonight, Wynne, I will make you pay."
They sped off into the night, leaving me standing there in the cold.
The next day, I headed to the hospital to grab my meds. Somehow, my feet carried me straight to Sienna's VIP suite.
Sienna was propped up on premium pillows, picking at a bowl of fresh berries. Her skin glowed with perfect health.
When I walked in, she slowly chewed her bite and gracefully spat the seeds into a napkin.
"I get that you hate me, Wynne," she whispered, her tone sharp, almost poisonous. "But do you really have to pretend to be sick to get Mom and Dad to look at you?
"Just look at the facts. I act out a few little scenes from your diary, and they treat me like gold. But when you try it? They're just disgusted."
My stomach knotted as I stared at her flawless face. The sick reality clicked.
She dug through my diary to hijack my actual, rotting pain, using it as a cheat code to win the favorite daughter contest.
*****
When I got home, a heavy, suffocating silence greeted me.
My parents and Julian were waiting for me in the living room. They sat stiffly on the couch like a firing squad.
Right in the middle of the coffee table sat a thick, familiar notebook.
He snatched it and hurled it straight at my head.
"See for yourself, Wynne," he barked.
The sharp corner grazed my cheek, drawing a line of hot blood before the notebook clattered to the floorboards.
Sienna buried her face against my mom's neck, trembling with dramatic sobs.
My dad slammed his fist onto the coffee table.
"Read it to her," he roared. "Make this sick animal listen to every word she wrote."
Sienna reached down for the book and flipped the pages open with trembling fingers.
She choked out the words tearfully. "June 15th. I am so sick of her. Sienna stole my whole life. Dad treats her like a princess, and Mom is obsessed with her. I have to get them back.
"I'll fake a bone cancer diagnosis to make them suffer. I stole the symptoms from a medical forum, and they bought the whole routine.
"It is pathetic how fast they fell for it. I love watching them lose their minds over me..."
My blood ran cold. A loud ringing filled my head, drowning out the rest of her words.
My eyes dropped to the open journal in her hands. Even from a few feet away, the slant of the letters and the messy ink loops were unmistakable. It was a flawless clone of my handwriting.
"I didn't write that," I screamed, lunging forward to snatch the book away. "The whole thing is fake. Sienna stole my real diary and forged my handwriting!"
A brutal slap cracked across my face, snapping my head to the side.
The impact made my ears ring even louder. My cheek flared hot, and the sharp, metallic taste of blood coated my tongue.
Julian jabbed a finger in my face, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "Drop the act, Wynne. We know how you write.
"No one else in this house is twisted enough to come up with this garbage. You faked a tragedy just to milk Mom and Dad for sympathy. Are you dead inside?"
My dad grabbed his chest, fighting for breath. He pointed a shaking hand at the front door. "Get out. Get out of my house.
"As far as I'm concerned, I only have one daughter now. You're a disgrace to this family. You are no longer an Ashford."
My mom kept her arms locked around Sienna, glaring at me with pure venom. "How could my own flesh and blood be this evil?" she spat. "Get out of our sight. You make me sick."
I stayed rooted to the spot, trapped in a room that suddenly felt like an icebox. The people who shared my blood sat mere feet away, staring at me like they wished I were dead.
The truth burned in my chest, begging to be screamed. But my throat locked shut, choking back every single word.
Julian shoved me out the front door and into the dark.
A heavy summer storm was pouring down on the city. Icy rain soaked through my clothes in seconds. I stumbled down the wet pavement, fighting against the heavy wind.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I watched the warm, amber light glowing from the second-floor windows.
Through the glass, I could see my mom gently stroking Sienna's hair while Julian wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.
It was the picture of a perfect, happy family.
It was a picture that never had any room for me.
A sharp cough tore through my chest. I grabbed onto a light pole and spit up a mouthful of dark blood. The rain caught the red stain and washed it down the gutter in an instant.
My phone buzzed in my wet pocket. I pulled out my phone and saw a new text from Sienna.
It read: [Wynne, your diary was an amazing read. I went ahead and wrote a sequel. Oh, and your real diary is ashes now. May you live a nice, long life on the streets.]