I was born with a glitch in my DNA. The moment the diagnosis came in, my father vanished, taking what little pride he had left and leaving us with a mountain of medical bills that swallowed my mother’s savings in months. To keep me alive, my mother moved us into the homes of strangers—men she didn't love but who had the means to keep my heart beating. David was the third "uncle." The arrangement was simple, though never spoken aloud: David wanted a legacy, and my mother needed a miracle. Within a year, her belly was swollen with my brother. Ten months later, she handed David a healthy baby boy. In exchange, he settled the initial $80,000 for my specialty treatments. When she was ready to pack our bags and move on, David stopped her. He told her that if she stayed, he would treat me like his own. He slid a credit card across the kitchen table, promising to cover every experimental trial, every vial of the expensive stuff. My mother looked at me—pale, fragile, and tethered to a nebulous future—and she nodded. They had a small ceremony a few weeks later. That night, she peeled off the modest lace dress she’d bought for the courthouse and put back on her faded, oversized flannel shirt. She pulled me into her lap, her voice a soothing hum. "Don't be scared, Daisy," she whispered, rocking me. "I’d do anything to keep you here. You’re my heart. You’ll always be the one I love most." To prove it, she kept my brother, Toby, at a distance. She rarely held him when I was in the room; she rarely smiled at him if she thought I was watching. She was trying to protect me from the one thing she couldn't fix: the feeling of being replaced. But everything shattered when Toby turned three. He found my pills on the nightstand, thinking they were those bright, sour candies he saw on TV. He swallowed a handful before my mother found him. I remember the terror in her eyes as she shoved her fingers down his throat, trying to make him gag, before she finally collapsed into a scream that tore through the house. "You monster!" she shrieked at me, her face contorted in a way I’d never seen. "I’ve given up everything for you! Isn't it enough? Why do you have to destroy your brother too?" "I’m so tired, Daisy. I’ve been tired for years. Why... why won't you just die already?!" David rushed in, scooped up a sobbing Toby and my shaking mother, and ran for the car. I stood by the window, watching the taillights fade into the rainy October night. I turned back to the room. I knelt on the floor and picked up the stray pills, one by one. Each one represented a day of her life she’d sold for me. Mom, I thought, swallowing the bitter tablets without water. I’m done being the weight around your neck. 1 My insides felt like they were being eaten by wildfire. I couldn't stop the low, ragged moans escaping my throat. But even through the haze of pain, my mind drifted back to her. "At least Mom bought the expensive ones," I whispered to the empty room. I remembered the day at the clinic. The doctor offered two options: the generic brand, which was harsh and unpredictable, or the premium version—devastatingly expensive, but with fewer side effects. My mother hadn't even blinked. She chose the premium. She’d literally sold her body’s future to David to ensure I suffered just a little bit less. "Mom doesn't mind," she used to tell me, brushing the hair from my damp forehead. "I just want my girl to have a little peace." The burning shifted into a sharp, stabbing agony. My breath came in short, jagged hitches, and tears leaked onto my pillow. I wanted her. I wanted her to hold my hand and tell me about the stars. But the thought died as soon as it formed. She was at the hospital with Toby. She was exhausted. I couldn't be her emergency anymore. I tried to mimic her touch, patting my own back with a trembling hand, pretending it was her soothing me to sleep. Then, a cold realization hit. If she came home and found me like this, she’d scream. She’d call 911. She’d spend more money she didn't have to "save" me again. She’d cry until her eyes turned red. I didn't want her to be tired. I didn't want her to pay. I didn't want to be the reason she cried ever again. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed myself off the bed. I crawled, inch by agonizing inch, out the door and up the narrow stairs to the attic. I found a corner behind a stack of old holiday decorations and tucked myself away. As the darkness started to bleed into my vision, my last thought was a question: This time, will the medicine finally defeat the monster inside me? I don't know how much time passed, but I woke up. I was back in my bedroom. Or rather, I was hovering in it. The room looked the same. My handmade stuffed bunny was sitting on the nightstand. Mom had been knitting it for weeks. If it weren't for Toby constantly interrupting her, demanding she make him a superhero instead, she would have finished it yesterday. She’d snapped at him for it, too. "It doesn't matter how much you cry, Toby! I'm finishing the bunny for your sister first!" she’d yelled. "And shut up! Daisy just took her meds. If you wake her, God help me!" Toby had wailed louder, and she’d dragged him out of the house. Now, I heard muffled voices coming from the hallway. "Toby is your flesh and blood too, Sarah," David was saying, his voice thick with frustration. "Why are you so cold to him? You’re obsessed with her, but look at the reality. The doctors said she won't even make it through the year." "Keep your voice down!" Mom hissed. "What if she hears you? I won't have her last months filled with your pessimism." A moment later, the door creaked open. Mom stepped in. She looked at the bed—at the shape under the covers—and let out a long, shuddering breath. She walked over and pressed a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl lying there. I felt a pang of ghostly guilt. I’d always been so proud of how well I could "fake sleep" so she wouldn't have to explain her tears to me. It’s okay, Mom, I thought, reaching out to touch the bunny. If you’re happy, I’m happy. But my hand passed right through the plush fabric. It was like trying to touch a shadow. The sound of keys jingling at the front door pulled my attention away. They were home. 2 Mom was carrying a white box from the local bakery—the one with the expensive strawberry shortcake. I did a little spin in the air, a giggle bubbling in my chest. "Mom! How did you know I had a craving for strawberries today? You really are the best." Then I heard Toby’s weak, small voice. "Mommy, I'm hungry." Mom knelt beside him, stroking his hair with a tenderness I rarely saw her show him. "I know, baby. This cake is just for you. Come here, let Mommy feed you." She took him from David’s arms and sat him at the kitchen island, spooning bits of cream and cake into his mouth. "It’s sweet, Mommy. I like it." Mom smiled, a genuine, glowing look that reached her eyes. "Then Mommy will buy it for you every single day." Toby’s eyes darted around, a bit of toddler mischief returning. "Mean sister made Toby’s tummy hurt. She doesn't get any cake." I hovered near them, crossing my arms and making a face at him. "Nice try, Toby. Strawberries are my favorite. She bought that for me." But then Mom leaned down and kissed Toby’s forehead. "You’re right, baby. Only for Toby. Not for the mean sister." I froze. Was she still angry about the pills? I’d tried so hard to keep them safe. I always tightened the child-proof caps until my fingers were raw. "Mom, look!" I cried out, holding up my hands. "I tried! I really tried!" But my hands were translucent. No marks, no scars. And she couldn't hear a word I said. Because Daisy was dead. David broke the silence. "Sarah, that cake is huge. Toby can't finish it. I’ll go wake Daisy so she can have some too." He took a step toward my room, but Mom’s voice stopped him cold. "She doesn't deserve a bite." The venom in her tone made me flinch. "If I hadn't been fast enough to clear Toby’s throat, we’d be at a funeral right now. I’m done with her tantrums." I threw myself into her lap, trying to wrap my arms around her. Mom, I’m right here. I’m right in front of you. You said no matter what I did, if I gave you a hug, you’d forgive me. Please. David sighed, walking to my door and knocking softly. "Daisy? You awake, honey? Toby’s okay now. Just come out and apologize, and we can move past this, okay?" Silence. Toby started fussing again. "She won't come out. She’s being bad." Mom’s brow furrowed. "She’s hiding because she knows she’s wrong. Does she really expect me to go in there and coddle her? I’ve spent every waking hour of the last eight years catering to her. Not once has she shown an ounce of gratitude. Honestly, David... sometimes I think about how much easier our lives would be if I’d just stopped the treatments years ago." She looked at David, her expression terrifyingly calm. "We could have been a normal family. We could have been happy." I clung to her, my soul shaking. "Mom, you’re just tired. You don't mean that. Tell me you don't mean that." I looked for a tear, a crack in her mask. There was nothing. She looked relieved, as if a weight had already been lifted. But you told me I was your happiness, I whispered. You told me I was the only thing that made it all worth it. Was it all a lie? David rubbed her shoulders. "Go put Toby to bed. Daisy’s meds are due in ten minutes. I’ll go in and talk to her. Let's just try to make her last few months... peaceful." Mom didn't answer. She just picked up Toby, gave him a quick bath, and disappeared into his room. David filled a glass of water and walked toward my door. 3 He stood outside the door for a moment, listening. He knocked again. "Daisy? Time for your pills. I've got your water." Nothing. "Come on, kiddo. The doctor said you can't miss a dose if you want to stay healthy. Don't make this harder than it has to be." I stood next to him, trying to tug on his sleeve. "David, I'm not in there. I can't open the door. Just go sit down." His face darkened. "You’re being stubborn, Daisy. Your mother has sacrificed everything for you. The least you can do is show a little maturity." I knew. I knew better than anyone. She’d married a man she didn't like because her family needed the dowry. When I was born with the "glitch," she was the only one who fought for me. My biological father called her a fool; he’d even tried to smother me in my crib one night to "end the misery." Mom had chased him out of the house with a kitchen knife, her eyes bloodshot and wild. She’d worked three jobs. She’d spent every penny. And then, she’d found David. She’d traded the possibility of a "normal" child for the survival of a "broken" one. She’d had Toby just to pay for my vials. She’d nearly died on the delivery table twice, but she always went back to the hospital the next day to buy my medicine. One night, I’d told her, "Mom, it’s okay if we don't buy the pills this month." She hadn't hesitated. "You have to take them, Daisy. You’re the only reason I have to wake up in the morning." Back then, I didn't fully understand. I just nodded and promised to be good. But now, listening to her sing a lullaby to Toby in the other room, I realized she’d found a new reason to wake up. The pain in my chest—my phantom chest—was worse than the medicine. David knocked a third time. His patience snapped. He reached for the handle. "Daisy, if you won't talk, I'm coming in." Suddenly, Mom marched out of Toby’s room, her face a mask of fury. She pushed past David and shoved the door open. "This is exactly what happens when you coddle her!" she yelled. "Daisy Miller, I am counting to three. If you aren't sitting up and ready for these meds, I swear to God, I won't even bother showing up to your funeral!" My heart skipped a beat. If she saw the empty bed, she’d know. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tight. In the weak light from the hallway, the life-sized bunny Mom had made—the one sitting propped up against the pillows—looked just like a small girl curled under the blankets. Mom saw the silhouette and her rage boiled over. "One!" "Two!" "Three!" The silhouette didn't move. Mom let out a harsh, jagged laugh. She snatched the water glass from David’s hand and stormed toward the bed. 4 A loud thump echoed from the hallway, followed by Toby’s piercing scream. Mom spun on her heel, the water slopping over the edge of the glass as she ran back to Toby’s room. He’d tumbled out of bed. She scooped him up, hovering over him with frantic apologies. "Oh, Toby, Mommy’s so sorry. I shouldn't have left you..." As he calmed down, he sniffled, clutching her neck. "Mommy stay with Toby tonight? No sister?" Mom sighed, a heavy, final sound. "She’s old enough to sleep on her own. It’s time she learned." I felt the air go cold around me. Every night, after Toby fell asleep, Mom would come to my room. She’d say that hearing my steady breathing was the only thing that made her feel safe. I had been greedy enough to think that her favoritism would last until my very last breath. I started to cry, but then, a strange smile touched my lips. Someone was finally there to love her back. Toby would be the one to make her laugh now. Toby, I thought, I’m going now. You have to love her twice as much for me. Toby cheered up at her promise. Mom bopped his nose playfully. "Tomorrow is Saturday. Daddy and I are taking you to the carnival." She raised her voice, clearly intending for "me" to hear it in the other room. "Sister is being a brat, so she doesn't get to go." David looked surprised. "Really? You’re leaving her behind?" Mom waited a beat, her jaw set. "Yes. I won't let her hold Toby’s childhood hostage anymore." Because of my health, we never went anywhere. The furthest I’d been was the hospital. Toby was three and had never even seen a carousel. David nodded. "You’re right. It’s heartbreaking, really. Toby falls and cries, and she doesn't even peek her head out to check on him. She’s turned into a cold little thing." Mom’s eyes hardened. "She’s just like her father. Ungrateful. Let’s sleep. We have to be at the gates early or the lines will be blocks long." The lights went out. I curled up on the floor by the side of her bed, shivering even though I had no body to feel the cold. The next morning, Mom glanced at my door. The wind had blown it shut during the night. "We’re going to be out late," David said, jingling the car keys. "Should we bring her? She’s light. I can carry her if she gets tired." Mom shook her head. "No. Today is for Toby. If she’s there, we’ll just be walking on eggshells all day." They left. But Mom, I whispered to the empty house, I’ve never been to a carnival either. Since I was a ghost, I figured it didn't matter. I followed them. Toby was electric with joy. He saw the brightly colored horses of the grand carousel and bolted toward them. Mom chased after him, laughing. "Slow down, Toby! You’ll trip!" I watched from the sidelines as they rode the horses. Mom was glowing. It was a smile I hadn't seen in years—one without the shadow of a hospital waiting room behind it. She looked beautiful. Without me, the wrinkles around her eyes would fade. The dark circles would disappear. She would finally be the woman she was meant to be. After the ride, David bought two huge strawberry ice cream cones. Mom started humming a song—my favorite song, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." Toby licked his ice cream. "Mommy, let’s come here every day. Just us. No mean sister." Mom’s face clouded over for a second. "Toby, don't say that. Your sister is very sick. We have to take care of her." Toby pouted, but Mom didn't smile this time. He realized he’d crossed a line. "Sorry, Mommy. Nice sister." David, who had been checking his phone, suddenly frowned. "That’s weird. The security app hasn't sent a single notification from Daisy’s room. The door hasn't opened once. Did she miss her morning meds too?" The color drained from Mom’s face. She stood up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. "David, we have to go. Now. If she hasn't taken her pills, she’s in danger." Ignoring Toby’s protests, they sprinted for the car. When they got home, Mom burst through the front door and slammed open my bedroom. "Daisy Miller! If you're playing games with your medicine, I swear—" But the room was empty. The bed was perfectly made, the bunny sitting exactly where she’d left it. I wasn't in the bathroom. I wasn't in the kitchen. Then, a thunderous pounding came at the front door. "Open up! It’s the police! We found a kid in the attic of the building next door... is she yours?"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "391651", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel