My Curse, Their Endless Guilt

I was born with a curse. I see a shimmering, crimson timer above everyone's head, counting down to the exact moment of their death. For this, my family has treated me like a monster for eighteen years, blaming me for every tragedy I foresaw.

On my 21st birthday, the timer finally appeared above my own head. I had twenty-four hours left to live.

I spent my last day preparing a feast, a desperate plea for one final family dinner. With only minutes to spare, I called my eldest brother, Fredrick, my voice breaking.

"Please, just come home," I sobbed. "I'm going to die tonight."