Chapter 2

The soundproofing in the house was terrible. The oppressive sounds of argument from the living room seeped through the door crack and drilled into my ears.

"Sell the house? Have you lost your mind? If we sell the house, where will the four of us live? Sleep on the streets?"

Mom's voice was shrill and broken, choked with sobs.

"Then what do you suggest? Five million in penalties, five hundred thousand for surgery! Even if we sold our old bones, it wouldn't be enough!"

Dad slammed the ashtray down with a clang.

"Liam's voice can't wait! The doctor said the earlier the surgery, the better the recovery. If we delay and it becomes chronic, his career will truly be over!"

"Why is my life so bitter..."

Mom's crying came in fits and starts.

"We shouldn't have been so soft-hearted back then... These past few years treating that mute's depression, paying for surgery on that useless hand—the family's savings were completely drained. If we still had that money..."

"Enough! Stop it!"

Dad sighed heavily.

"What's the point of saying this now? She's Liam's biological sister. During the fire, she only got hurt because she was saving Liam..."

"What good did saving him do? She's dragged down the whole family for life!"

Mom screamed hysterically.

"If I'd known it would come to this, I'd rather have back then..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but I knew what she wanted to say.

I also knew she wasn't truly cruel. She was just too tired, too desperate.

People bent under life's heavy burdens always need an outlet.

And I was that perfect outlet.

By the moonlight streaming through the window, I looked at myself in the mirror.

Pale face, vacant eyes—like a wandering ghost in the mortal world.

Yes, I was a burden.

What value did my existence have besides creating problems for this family?

I touched my pocket, where I had a few hundred dollars secretly saved up.

It was my private stash, accumulated by deliberately taking fewer pills, scraping together a little at a time.

Under cover of darkness, I slipped out to the pharmacy.

Standing at the counter, I typed on my phone to show the clerk:

[Do you have the best throat-soothing lozenges? The kind that's handmade and helps relieve vocal cord polyps?]

The clerk pulled out a glass jar from the cabinet.

"This one's from an old established brand, made purely with natural ingredients. The effect is especially good, just a bit expensive—over three hundred dollars."

Over three hundred dollars.

Nearly all my savings.