Chapter 4

As I listened to the dial tone, the pain suddenly vanished.

The agonizing cramping that felt like it was tearing my insides apart seemed to disappear with that beep.

I thought, maybe this was for the best.

I really had been a bad daughter. Even getting sick was treated as a selfish cry for attention. I shouldn't have been like that.

Slowly, I placed the blood-stained receiver back on its cradle and wiped the tears off my cheeks with my sleeve.

I looked down at the long, ghastly smear of red across the tiles.

It was so dirty.

Mom hated a mess. If she came home and saw the floor ruined like this, she would definitely yell at me.

Leaning against the wall, I gathered the very last shred of strength in my body and shuffled into the bathroom to grab a rag.

Lying flat on my stomach, inch by inch, I wiped away every trace of my blood until the floor was spotless.

The water in the bucket turned a deep, murky red. I poured it into the toilet and flushed five times before the water ran clear again.

The Barbie dolls and building blocks Chloe had scattered around the couch before leaving were still lying everywhere.

I picked them up piece by piece and arranged them neatly inside her toy box.

Once that was done, I walked back to my bedroom.

From the dented metal tin under my bed, I pulled out a small stack of crumpled bills.

It was three hundred dollars in total.

I had saved it by secretly stopping my expensive targeted therapy and passing out flyers behind their backs.

I found a clean sheet of paper and picked up a pen.

Mom, Dad, please don't be angry.

I stopped taking my medication without telling you. My cancer is too far along to be cured. There's no point wasting money.

Keep this money for Chloe's school fees, or buy her some new toys.

As long as you guys had fun at the amusement park today, I'm happy.

I won't ever disgust you or ruin your mood again.

I hope you'll always be happy.

I folded the money inside the note and walked over to my parents' bedroom step by heavy step.

Carefully, I slid it beneath their soft pillows.

After that, I went back into my dark, tiny bedroom that never saw the sun.

I peeled off the blood-soaked white dress and changed into an old, faded school uniform.

It was the only set of clothes they had bought for me in the past few years.

I climbed onto the narrow, hard mattress and curled up tight in the far corner against the wall.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled into the fetal position.

Gradually, my breathing grew lighter and shallower.

Until my chest stopped rising altogether.

My soul lifted, floating weightlessly toward the ceiling.

I looked down at the tiny, stiff body on the bed—a girl who finally didn't have to cry out in pain anymore.

How nice. I would never be yelled at again.

At eight that evening, the key turned in the front door.

My parents stepped into the house, laughing cheerfully as Chloe held a massive colorful balloon.

The living room was spotless. There wasn't a single drop of blood, as if nothing had ever happened.

Mom kicked off her shoes and walked toward my closed bedroom door out of habit.

She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Still rotting away in your room playing dead? You can't even come out and pour your sister a glass of water?!"

"Do I have to personally beg you to move? Get out here right now!"

When no sound came from inside, her temper flared even hotter.

She grabbed the doorknob and shoved the door open with a hard push.

The bright hallway light spilled into the dim room.

The room was completely quiet—so quiet that an uneasy chill crept into her chest.

Then, her eyes landed on the bed.

The phone slipped from Mom's hand, clattering loudly against the floorboards.