Chapter 1

The eighteenth time Mom gave my gift to my sister, guilt flickered across her face. Then she turned it around on me.

"Why didn't you remind me? Whatever. Since it's already done, she might as well keep it."

I stood frozen, watching my sister beam with excitement over the gift.

I just nodded, numb.

Ever since Chloe was born, Mom had constantly given away things that were meant for me.

She promised to take me to the amusement park, but ended up giving my ticket to Chloe.

I ran a fever of a hundred and four, but Mom rushed Chloe to the ER instead.

Even on my birthday, my cake ended up in Chloe's room.

"Since it's already done, just let your sister go have fun."

"Since it's already done, we can't risk you getting your sister sick."

"Since it's already done, it doesn't hurt to let your sister blow out the candles first."

Now Mom was carrying my birthday cake over to Chloe with a warm smile. I managed a bitter smile of my own.

Mom had completely forgotten.

I had cancer. The doctor told me this would probably be my last birthday.

Since it's already done, so be it.

The sound of keys turning in the lock came from the front door.

Dad was home from work.

Fighting through the searing pain in my stomach, I gripped the wall and slowly shuffled out of the hallway.

There was a time when even a tiny cough from me would make Dad rush me to urgent care in the middle of the night.

Now, I stood in the living room dripping with cold sweat, and he didn't even spare me a glance.

He walked straight toward Chloe and thrust a limited-edition plush bunny into her arms.

"Happy birthday, Chloe! Do you like the new toy Daddy bought you?"

Chloe cheered, jumping up and planting a big, loud kiss on his cheek.

Dad beamed, his eyes crinkling with joy. It was only when he turned around that he finally noticed me leaning against the wall, on the verge of collapsing.

His smile vanished instantly, his brows knitting into a harsh scowl.

"What's with that look on your face?"

"Today is your sister's birthday. Do you really have to pull a long face and ruin the mood?"

"You're getting more depressing by the day. Just looking at you gives me a headache."

I bit down hard on my lower lip, my fingers clutching the diagnosis report crumpled inside my pocket.

"Today is my birthday," I said, my voice trembling.

Dad paused for a split second, an awkward flicker in his eyes.

But that tiny hint of guilt was instantly swallowed by annoyance.

"How old are you, picking fights with your little sister? Can't we just buy you another cake in a few days?"

Mom rolled her eyes as she sliced the cake beside him.

"Buy her another one? For what? She just can't stand seeing Chloe happy."

"Always throwing tantrums and pulling stunts just because she wants everyone looking at her."

I slowly pulled the sweat-soaked medical report out of my pocket.

"The doctor said this might be my last birthday."

"Stomach cancer."

Both Mom and Dad frowned at the same time, their expressions wavering for a fraction of a second.

Suddenly, Chloe pointed at me and burst into tears.

"Mommy! She's scaring me! I don't want her to die!"

Seeing how terrified Chloe looked, Mom rushed over, snatched the diagnosis paper from my hands, and shoved it straight into the trash can.

"Lauren, do you just hate seeing anyone in this house happy?"

"So what if you have stomach cancer? Do you really have to scare Chloe half to death before you're satisfied?!"

I froze, shaking my head desperately.

"I didn't..."

Smack!

A hard slap cracked across my face.

The force knocked me off my feet, sending me crashing onto the floor. My ears rang violently, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Dad towered over me, glaring down with utter disgust.

"You're rotten to the core!"

"How did we raise such a useless, spiteful bully of a daughter?!"

I lay on the cold floor, staring at the diagnosis paper beside the trash can.

The hospital's name was printed across the top of the report, but neither of them cared to look.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Every defense, every ounce of grievance I had kept inside, died right then and there.

Using the wall for support, I pulled myself up and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

I turned around and walked toward my bedroom.

Dad grabbed a mug off the coffee table and hurled it violently at my feet, shattering it.

"You're like a walking corpse every single day!"

"If you ever use dying to threaten us again, get out of this house and drop dead somewhere else!"

"We don't need your bad luck in this family!"