On the way to school, Mom and Dad held my sister Jessica’s hands tightly, one on each side. And I trailed behind them like some stray dog. I wanted to run up and have them hold my hand too. But all I got was Jessica snapping impatiently, "I don't want to go to school with Chloe." So Dad hit the gas, leaving me standing there as they drove off with Jessica. I was left alone to wait for the bus. If they knew their real daughter was about to die, would they regret it? 1. "I don't feel like going to school with Chloe today!" One sentence from my sister, and Dad floored it, the car shooting away. Staring at the exhaust fumes fading in the distance, I resigned myself to walking, my own two feet being my transport. I hadn't gone far when a neighbor called out to me, asking for a little favor. Remembering he’d helped me out before, I followed him back to his house without a second thought. And then, the thing I'd regret for the rest of my short life happened. At the very last moment, I managed to send out a cry for help. But Dad didn't pick up. The phone rang once, then clicked off. Hung up. The screen went black. The phone was ripped from my hand and smashed. Like a moldy, rotten tomato, I was thrown into a dark basement, staring blankly with lifeless eyes. My spirit pulled away from my body and drifted all the way to school. I watched Dad and Jessica hug goodbye at the school gate. Dad only left reluctantly after Jessica’s figure disappeared from view. I was standing right behind him. He turned and walked straight through me. That's when it hit me. I was really dead. My name is Chloe. My sister’s name is Jessica. We were supposed to be full sisters, same mom, same dad. But one day, a while back, Jessica told me, "Chloe, you're not Mom and Dad's real daughter. I am. They only took you in because they felt sorry for you. If you don't want to get kicked out, you have to do what I say." So that was why they didn't love me. I was just the adopted one. "There's only one piece of cake left. Let's save it for your sister." I stood there holding the plate, waiting for her to finish before I could put it down. "Your clothes are still wearable. We'll order Jessica's new uniform first this time." I lowered my head and forced down a tasteless mouthful of food. Mom was right, they were still wearable. Just a little dirty. Covered in random doodles and slang words. All courtesy of Jessica. She wanted Mom and Dad to think I was a troublemaker. But her efforts were wasted. Mom and Dad definitely never saw it. Or never looked. The uniform I’d worn for two years was still a bit big on me. "Malnourished," the nurse told me during my check-up. "You need to eat more vegetables, get a balanced diet." Looking at the table loaded with chicken, steak, and fish, the nurse's words felt incredibly ironic. Vegetables were pretty much all I ever ate. Because that was all that was left. Jessica's plate was piled high with meat by Mom and Dad. She'd look at me smugly, chin tilted up. Every time, I thought she was trying too hard. Just being their real daughter was enough to beat me. Why bother with anything else? 2 Today is the first day of my death. I wonder when I'll be found. My body is still in that dark, damp basement. Even my spirit feels cold. At night, the three of them sat down to dinner together. There was an empty chair right there. Why didn't anyone notice? Suddenly, Jessica asked, "Where's Chloe?" She always called me by my full name, never once called me "sis" growing up. Dad put a piece of chicken on Jessica's plate, saying without even thinking, "Probably in her room." "She must be upset because we didn't take her to school this morning," Jessica said, resting her chin on her hand, pretending to be concerned. "It's because I had a cold, I didn't want her to catch it, that's why I didn't want her to come with us." I was still hoping they’d realize I wasn't home, maybe go look for me. But they didn't even know if I'd come back or not. Right up until the table was cleared, leftovers scraped into the trash. Nobody called me for dinner. They didn't even save me any scraps. I floated into Mom and Dad's room first. They were each scrolling on their phones, showing no intention of talking. After a look around, I found Jessica in my room. She was holding scissors, viciously stabbing at my favorite doll, cutting it to shreds piece by piece. Watching the white cotton stuffing spill out of the doll in her hands, it looked disturbingly like my body in the basement. "Heh, Chloe, see? Mom and Dad don't even know you're not home." "You can't blame me. I reminded them. They just didn't notice." As she spoke, Jessica suddenly collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and muttering to herself, "Chloe, if you're really dead, don't come looking for me. If I hadn't done this, it would have been me." My spirit jolted. I stared in disbelief at my sister sitting on the floor. "My death… it's connected to her?" Did she deliberately make me walk alone today, giving the neighbor the chance to kidnap me? She knew. She knew that if I was left alone, I would definitely die. Mom, Dad, do you see this? Your precious, beloved biological daughter, how selfish and cruel she is. No, they don't see. They don't see anything. Jessica's crying turned into laughter, a chilling coldness in her eyes, scarier than the wind howling outside. She got up and left, leaving the mess of shredded doll parts behind. That doll… it was the only toy Mom ever gave me. "Chloe, Jessica's done with this doll. You can have it." Taking the dirty, worn-out doll from Mom's hand, I hugged it carefully. "From now on, it's just you and me," I’d whispered to it. Now I'm dead. And the doll is gone too. 3 Today is the second day of my death. My left arm is much thicker than my right. I guess it’s because I was lying on my left side, and it got waterlogged from the damp floor. Mom and Dad got up and started packing. Mom even baked some fresh bread. Then I remembered, it’s the weekend. They’d planned a camping trip a few days ago. Well, I thought, when they leave, they should realize someone's missing. Jessica got all dressed up, practically shining like the golden child she was, dazzling to look at. I have to admit, Jessica is beautiful, with a great figure. Good at everything except studying. But Mom and Dad seemed to care least about grades. Even when I presented them with a paper full of A's. It couldn't compete with Jessica saying, "Mom, look at this pretty dress!" Which was followed by Mom's exaggerated praise: "Our Jessie has such good taste! Mom will take you shopping this afternoon. Let's make our Jessie the prettiest little princess." She and her little princess, affectionately bumping foreheads, hugging each other. Completely forgetting someone else was standing right there. Even just a single word of praise, like "Good," would have made me feel less like an outsider. I crumpled the edges of my report card, then threw it in the trash. Because Mom once said, "Get rid of these things that just get in the way. Don't leave them around the house. Jessica needs the space for her things." The undisguised annoyance in Mom's eyes made me feel like I was even more of an eyesore than my perfect test papers. I finally couldn't help but ask Mom, "Mom, is it because I'm not your real daughter that you don't love me?" Mom's hand struck my face hard. Her eyes were slightly red as she angrily accused me, "What nonsense are you talking about? You and Jessica are both Mom and Dad's daughters. Jessica had a rough start in life, so Mom pays a little more attention to her. Can't you be more understanding?" If she was Mom and Dad's biological daughter, why would she have had a rough start? I didn't ask the question out loud, because Jessica was already pulling Mom away. I floated to the doorway, watching them bustle around, back and forth, through every corner of the house. Except they completely ignored that one room. My room. Well, it was the most out-of-the-way room in the house. You wouldn't even notice it unless you were specifically thinking about it. They were leaving. They loaded up all the camping gear. And Jessica. The door was about to close. I'm still here! My spirit unconsciously reached out, trying to grab something. "Where's Chloe?" It was Mom's voice. She finally remembered me. My eyes lit up, as if seeing a glimmer of hope. "Forget about her. If she didn't come out, she doesn't want to go. We planned this already, it's not like she didn't know." That was Dad's voice, like a merciless pendulum, striking my broken heart again and again. The outstretched hand retracted. Hope vanished with it. How ridiculous. Couldn't they have just peeked into my room? Just once?
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