He Regretted It... When He Found Out I Was Dead.

I was the kind of influencer people loved to hate, the one always accused of riding my sister Ava’s coattails. The day Ava Miller won her Oscar for Best Actress, one of her psycho fans skinned me alive. And the last video I ever posted? It got swarmed by her fans. The top comment, liked thousands of times: “Always chasing clout. She should just die already. So gross.” Well, they got their wish. I died. And it wasn't pretty. 1 My skin arrived at my sister’s place, neatly packed in a fancy gift box. The second she opened it, she screamed, dropping the box like it burned her. "What on earth is it?" My mother rushed in at the sound. Seeing the contents spilled on the floor, she froze too. "Is... is that...?" Ava crouched down, sobbing quietly. "It was a gift from a fan... congratulating me on the Oscar. I had no idea it would be..." Mom took a deep breath, trying to get a grip. "He didn't... kill someone, did he?" Ava started trembling, nodding almost imperceptibly, like she couldn't face it. "It's... it's Zoe's skin. Mom, it's Zoe's! How could he do this?" "Zoe and I were always so close," she wailed. "Why would anyone want to hurt her? Mom, what if this is some serial killer? I'm scared!" Hearing that, I almost laughed out loud. Where did Ava get the idea we were close? Every time she did an interview or went to an event, she’d pull that innocent, "Oh, I love this dress too, but my little sister likes it, so I’ll have to give it to her after the show, otherwise…" Otherwise what, she never finished. She’d just cover her mouth, looking all wide-eyed and vulnerable. The whole world thought I was the bitchy younger sister who bullied poor, sweet Ava. Her fans hated my guts, wished me dead daily. And this "serial killer" fan? He just acted out what Ava secretly wanted. Floating there, watching Ava put on a show, clinging to Mom and crying, I saw it. In the split second Mom wasn't looking, Ava glanced at my skin on the floor, and the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. Seeing that fueled my rage. It surged uncontrollably. I wanted nothing more than to materialize right there and tear her apart. Maybe my anger was so strong it created a draft, because my skin seemed to flutter slightly. Ava flinched, genuinely spooked for a second. "Mom, we need to call the police! We can't let Zoe die like this, for nothing!" Mom started to nod, then stopped, her expression changing. "Absolutely not. We can't report this. If this gets out, your career is over. And then how will we pay for your father's hospital bills?" She looked down at my skin on the floor with disgust. "Your sister… always so thoughtless. Causing trouble for the family even in death." A flicker of hesitation crossed Ava's face, then she bit her lip, her resolve hardening. "I hope Zoe can forgive us for not getting her justice." 2 Ava dragged my skin under her bed. My obsession, my lingering consciousness, was tied here now. I couldn't leave Ava. My spirit drifted, watching her switch back to her worried actress persona for a call with her agent, Brenda. Brenda’s voice on the other end was soothing, promising to handle the... problem... soon. The moment she hung up, Ava’s face changed instantly. Gone was any trace of fear. She scrolled through Twitter, basking in the flood of praise and congratulations, reading aloud the comments insulting me, letting out little giggles. She even got an invite from my underground boyfriend, Liam Carter, asking her to dinner to celebrate her win. "Ava, congratulations on the Oscar. All your hard work paid off," Liam said, having booked the entire fancy restaurant. Ava accepted the bouquet of roses, her face glowing softly in the dim light, looking shy. "Thank you, Liam. It means so much that you came all this way to celebrate with me. But..." Her gaze dropped. "I just wish Zoe could be here to congratulate me publicly too." Liam frowned. "Your sister? With her jealousy? She'd just find another way to leech off your fame. You need to cut ties with her, Ava. You're just too kind." That was the first time I heard what my own boyfriend really thought of me. Ava quickly jumped to my "defense." "Oh, Liam, she must have her reasons. It's probably our fault for not communicating better. She even blocked the whole family." Liam looked unconvinced. Ava's expression shifted to worry again. "I hope nothing's happened to her, Liam. I'm really worried. Her TikTok hasn't been updated in days. It's the only way we know if she's okay." Her voice cracked, like she was genuinely on the verge of tears for me. Damn, Ava really earned that Oscar. If I wasn't dead and watching her, even I might have been fooled. And the poor sap sitting across from her? He just scoffed. "What could happen to her? She's probably staking out the spot where you walked the red carpet yesterday, planning her next copycat stunt." Liam had reason to say that. It wouldn't have been the first time. Three years ago, when Ava was first nominated, she tripped dramatically on the red carpet. Every gossip site covered it. #MostBeautifulStumble #ActressAvaTakesATumble. She trended instantly, comments pouring in about her grace even when falling. Me? As just an influencer, I had no business being at the Oscars. But my agency threatened to sue me for breach of contract if I didn't go and somehow get noticed. Every dime I earned went straight to Dad's medical bills after his stroke; I couldn't afford a lawsuit. So, swallowing my pride, I went. On the red carpet, some asshole shoved me hard. I fell right where Ava had stumbled. With my face being somewhat similar to hers, I trended too – but for all the wrong reasons. #DesperateCloutChaser #PlasticSurgeryFail. Countless articles blamed me for Ava losing the Oscar that year. After that, thanks to my agency's shady tactics, I was constantly framed as "copying" Ava, even when I wasn't there – they’d just photoshop me into pictures. Worse, I started finding evidence that Ava herself was orchestrating some of it behind the scenes. That's when Liam, my boyfriend of four years since college, stopped believing me. He started saying my "tactics" disgusted him. No matter how many times I tried to explain, he’d just look at me with disappointment. "I never thought you'd change so much after college, Zoe. You've lost your way. With this attitude, you'll never make it in serious acting. You'll never have Ava's artistic integrity." I had no response. Ava, also a drama school grad, went straight into acting, preaching about her "dream." Meanwhile, I, with the same training, was pushed by Mom into the influencer grind because it paid faster – becoming fodder for gossip blogs and hate comments. So when I discovered Ava was actively sabotaging me? I couldn't tell anyone. Who would believe that America's sweetheart actress was secretly screwing over her influencer sister? I was defenseless, dragged through the mud, branded "the most annoying influencer ever." 3 Before Liam left the restaurant, he kept reassuring Ava, telling her not to let "people like me" get to her, saying clout chasers always get what they deserve. Ava nodded sweetly, then went back to her busy schedule of endorsements and appearances. Later, scrolling through Twitter, she saw my name trending again. After my death, someone – probably my scummy agency – had uploaded a set of photos to my TikTok account. Photos that looked suspiciously similar to Ava’s latest red carpet shots. Predictably, Twitter exploded with accusations of me copying her again. Ava scrolled through the comments, laughing. She showed her phone to Brenda. "Look at this, Bren. My sister's agency is still pulling this crap. The comments are brutal." I floated closer to look. Yep, my name was top three trending again. Honestly, A-list celebrities didn't trend as often as I did. I should probably thank Ava; without the traffic she generated (even negative traffic), I wouldn't have made enough to keep Dad in the hospital. My agency never let me disable comments, so I was used to the abuse. I could probably recite the most common insults by heart. Top comment: “Always chasing clout. She should just die already. So gross.” Nobody noticed the photos were obviously doctored. Nobody believed I could actually be innocent. Watching Ava cackle like a cartoon villain, completely unfazed by my actual death, my soul started to tremble, shivering with a cold rage. I remembered my last moments. My agency had forced me to do a livestream. "Leverage the buzz around Ava's Oscar win," they said. "Boost your engagement." The second I hit 'Go Live,' the door burst open. A burly guy I didn't recognize stormed in. He was holding a knife, yelling he was going to peel my skin off. Then I recognized the voice. It was chillingly familiar – the same voice from countless harassing calls, the DMs filled with threats. He was one of Ava's hardcore fans. An obsessed stalker. I shook uncontrollably, scrambling away, trying desperately to dodge the knife. He grabbed me, his hand clamped around my neck, his face twisted with rage. I fought back, clawing at his hand. He slapped me hard across the face, then grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the floor. "You bitch! You deserve to die! Who gave you the right to copy Ava? To bully her? I'm gonna end you today!" Sobbing, I begged him to stop, pleaded that I'd never bullied Ava. I hadn't just not bullied her; I'd poured my earnings into getting her roles, paying for her early projects. Before she made it big, I was the one bankrolling her climb, taking bit parts myself just to support her. But my words were choked off as he pinned me to the floor. In the struggle, a keychain fell from his pocket. The little charm attached – a custom design I recognized instantly. It was the one I gave Liam. He snarled, his teeth gritted. "Cut the crap. Ava told me all about you. You're nothing but a lying, money-grubbing whore." My heart plummeted. Of course. He came here intending to kill me. He was already convinced I was the villain in Ava's story. Nothing I said would matter. Ava had painted me as the bad guy, stealing her clothes, her spotlight, even trying to steal her roles. Her fans already wanted me dead. And my own mother? She forbade me from defending myself publicly, worried it would hurt Ava's "image." The man slit my throat. As blood pulsed out, he started cutting away my skin. Right up until the end, nobody came to save me. That keychain… that key… did Liam give it to my killer? 4 I kept following Ava. Soon, her new movie came out. It was a hit. The hashtags flew. #MostBeautifulBack #AvaMillersStunningSilhouette Fans raved. "Ava is gorgeous! She really pushed herself for this role!" Even casual viewers were impressed. "I only ever saw her name in headlines, thought she was just famous for being famous. But wow, she can act. I misjudged her." The accolades piled up for Ava. But nobody knew that the stunning back shot, the graceful dance sequence everyone was praising – that was me. The day they filmed that scene, it required hours in freezing cold water. Ava claimed she was on her period and couldn't possibly do it. Then Mom called me. She said Ava wasn't feeling well, couldn't film. "You're sisters," she'd said. "Your backs look identical. Just help her out, what's the big deal?" She conveniently forgot that I was still recovering from an injury I got during a stupid influencer challenge I’d done trying to earn extra cash. I hesitated for just a second. That was enough for Mom to launch into a tirade about how ungrateful and unsupportive I was. My chest ached. Why did Mom only see Ava's "sacrifices" and never my struggles? Right after college, I had promising prospects. My professors offered introductions, connections. Acting was my dream – I wanted to create characters that moved people. But then Dad had the stroke. Mom begged me, tears streaming, not to pursue acting. "Go be an influencer, Zoe," she'd cried. "It's faster money. A movie takes months, even a year to film, and you don't get paid until later. How will we survive?" Reluctantly, I signed with the influencer agency. I worked myself to the bone to support the family. I told myself, just hold on until Ava wins her Oscar, until her career is stable. Then, I could finally go back, pursue my own dream. Who knew I’d die before I even got the chance? As Ava's fame soared with the movie's success, someone online finally joked, "Ava's been trending for ages. Where's her copycat sister Zoe trying to cash in? Did something happen to her?" For a moment, my non-existent heart leaped. Maybe someone would finally realize I was actually gone. Right then, an anonymous account commented under Ava’s official post: "That back isn't Ava Miller's. It's Zoe's." The comment section exploded. "Is that Zoe's burner account? Trying to stir up drama again." "OMG, just die already, you pathetic leech." "Something happen to Zoe? Nah, trash like her lives forever. She's probably hiding somewhere planning her next stunt. Evil lasts." No matter how much the anonymous account owner insisted they weren't me, nobody believed them. Amidst the sea of insults, Ava calmly made a phone call. Using her sweetest voice, she negotiated a price: three million dollars. To buy my TikTok account from my agency. Soon, hashtags like #ZoeAccidentallyLikesHateComment and #CloutChaserCaughtAgain started trending, proving to the world that I was still alive and causing trouble. So, it was true. My agency had been in cahoots with Ava all along. They probably celebrated the buyout, completely clueless that their cash cow was already dead.

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