My parents were away on a business trip, leaving me and my little brother, Mark, to fend for ourselves. We decided to kill time with a game of "Something You Don't Have." I smiled, laying my palm flat on the table. “Mom baked me a birthday cake from scratch.” Mark just shrugged, casually folding one finger down. “My name is on the deed to the house.” I froze. He pressed his advantage, a smug grin spreading across his face. “And I’m the sole beneficiary on all of their life insurance policies.” My hand hovered in mid-air, fingers stiff. My mind went completely blank, the next sentence I’d been about to say catching in my throat. What I had wanted to say was that I have cancer. And I probably don’t have much time left. 1 “What, you don’t believe me?” Mark scoffed, sauntering over to the safe. He pulled out two official-looking folders and a stack of printed contracts, laying them all out neatly in front of me. “See for yourself, genius.” My hands trembled, but I opened them. The three-bedroom house we were living in, the old cottage out in the country, and more than a dozen insurance policies. Mark Miller’s name was on every single one. And me, Abby Miller, I was nowhere to be found in that thick stack of documents. Not a ghost of a mention. “So? Looks like you lose this round, huh?” Mark crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. He was right. I had lost. I didn’t even know the combination to that safe. But he had opened it without a second thought. “Cat got your tongue? You’re not gonna play your next card?” He waved a hand in front of my face, still waiting for me to continue the game. I closed the folders and stacked the contracts one by one, my voice a dry rasp. “Fine. You win.” Before this moment, Mark and I had a lifetime of sibling rivalry under our belts, a war of attrition where he never seemed to gain any ground. Mom always had my back. “Abby’s a girl, Mark,” she’d say. “A gentleman always lets the lady have her way.” So, I always got the first pick of snacks, the first choice of games. I even had the biggest bedroom in the house. Growing up, Mark would constantly whine in my ear, “Mom and Dad are so biased. You’re the only one they really love.” All these years, I’d basked in that favoritism while secretly feeling a pang of guilt for my brother. So even when he’d tell me to drop dead, I’d just brush it off as him blowing off steam. But now, I really was dying. Just last month, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. The doctor told me it had already spread. Surgery was off the table; there was no chance of success. All I had left was to live out my remaining time as comfortably as possible, to manage the pain. Because I truly believed my parents “loved me most,” I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth about my illness. I’d planned to use their business trip as an opportunity, to use this silly game as a way to gently break the news to my brother—the one person I thought hated me most. But now… now I didn’t want to say a thing. Mark cleared his throat. “You don’t have to give up so fast. You’ve still got three fingers left.” I just smiled and shook my head. “I’m done. It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.” He noticed the shift in my mood, his tone turning contemptuous. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re actually going to go kill yourself over this.” “If you do, make sure you do it somewhere else. I don’t want it coming back on me.” It was his typical way of talking, something I’d grown used to. But hearing that word—kill—this time, my nose stung, and my eyes began to burn against my will. I paused, saying nothing as I walked straight to my room. Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice again. “There’s one more thing I didn’t tell you. Do you want to—” “No.” I didn’t turn around, forcing a calm smile. “I don’t want to hear it. Just go to bed, Mark.” I quietly shut the door behind me and pulled out the bucket list I’d made a few days ago. Climb a mountain to see the sunrise together. Take one last family photo. A trip to the beach… All these things I wanted to do with my family before I died. Was there even any point now? I fought back the searing sting in my eyes, stubbornly refusing to let a single tear fall. 2 At one in the morning, my body ached so intensely that sleep was impossible. Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I decided to look for some painkillers in Mom’s drawer. It was where she always kept her medicine, but now, tucked inside, was a diary I’d never seen before. The cover was yellowed with age, the handwriting unmistakably hers. “My sweet Mark smiled for the first time today. His eyes are like little stars, so full of love.” “Mark has a fever again. His father and I stayed up all night watching over him. Our hearts are breaking…” I flipped through page after page, but my name was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until the very last few pages that I finally found a mention of me. “Mark is starting to fight for things, but he’s three years younger than his sister. He can’t win. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl.” “What can I do? I told Mark today that Mom and Dad will make it up to him in secret, giving him double of whatever he wants.” “It’s just some toys and snacks, what are they worth? Let her win for now. When she’s happy, she’ll feel guilty towards her brother. Trading a few small favors for our son’s long-term benefit… it’s a brilliant deal.” I placed the diary back in the drawer, my body shivering with a sudden, uncontrollable cold. So that was what she really thought. So their love for me had been nothing more than a calculated scheme. For as long as I could remember, she and Dad had always let me win in all the small, insignificant battles. A few bags of chips, some toys, a slightly bigger bedroom. In exchange, my brother got the property, the insurance policies, and their genuine, heartfelt love. The parents I had adored my entire life… they didn’t love me at all. A wave of icy nausea washed over me. I scrambled to the bathroom, violent spasms seizing my stomach and rising in my throat. Eventually, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, gasping for breath. I don’t know when Mark came in, but he was clearly startled by the sight of me. “Did you eat something bad?” I wiped the tears from my face, my voice weak. “Stomach cramps.” “Aren’t there painkillers in Mom’s drawer?” I shook my head. “They’re all gone.” “God, you’re such a pain.” He sounded incredibly annoyed, but he still turned and started putting on his jacket by the door. “Wait here. I’ll go buy you some. But it’s a fifty-dollar delivery fee, and I want it upfront.” As the front door clicked shut, I used the wall to pull myself up and happened to see Mark’s phone, left behind on the entryway table. The screen lit up with the ping of a few new notifications. I walked over, my eyes fixing on the latest message. It was from a group chat named “Our Perfect Family.” There were three members. And me, the outsider, had never known it existed. Mom: “Honey, Dad and I just finished up here. We’ll be back in a couple of days. I managed to get you that limited-edition figure you wanted! It was the very last one, I had to pay a fortune for it.” Mom: “P.S. When you get back to campus, make sure you hide it in your dorm room. Don’t you dare tell your sister. She was going on and on about wanting one three months ago.” I let out a bitter laugh and turned off the screen. A strange calm settled over me. It didn’t matter. When you’re about to die, nothing really matters anymore. 3 The day my parents came home, a light rain was falling from a gray sky. As always, the first thing they did was show me the gifts they’d brought. “Abby, honey, that figure you told me you wanted was sold out everywhere. But don’t worry, Mom pulled some strings and got you this mini version.” Pulled some strings? I looked at the crudely made knockoff, and all I could feel was a bitter, biting irony. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It took a lot of effort to get, you know.” But what could I do? I couldn’t force a smile. Seeing the look on my face, my dad’s temper flared. “Abby Miller, your mother went to great lengths and spent a lot of money to bring that back for you, and you have the nerve to look so ungrateful? Have we spoiled you rotten?” “Look at your brother! He didn’t get anything, and he’s not acting like a brat!” He didn’t get anything? I’m the ungrateful one? Had they been playing this part for so long they’d started to believe their own lies? In that moment, I decided I wasn’t going to let this go. I asked, my voice cold and sharp, “Mom, are you sure you couldn’t find the limited-edition one?” The words hung in the air. Everyone froze. My mother’s eyes darted to Mark, and she muttered under her breath, “You silly boy, I told you not to tell her.” I laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “You don’t have to look at him, Mom. I already know everything.” “You… what do you know?” Her confidence was gone, her words stumbling over each other. It was Mark who spoke up, his voice steady. “Mom, I told her. She was going to find out about the house and the insurance eventually. Why keep lying?” The air grew thick with a heavy silence. My parents’ faces turned ugly. Under my unwavering gaze, my mother slowly composed herself, her voice regaining its familiar tone of self-righteousness. “Fine. If you know, then there’s nothing left to hide.” “You put your hand on your heart and tell me, Abby. In every single fight between you and Mark, haven’t your father and I always taken your side?” “We gave you all the attention, and we gave Mark the assets. It’s perfectly fair.” I laughed again, the sound hollow. Fair? What a joke. A familiar, twisting pain clawed at my stomach. I clapped a hand over my mouth, doubling over as I ran for the bathroom, dry-heaving violently. My mother, dropping her aggressive posture, followed me to the door, a flicker of concern in her voice. “Wh-what’s wrong? Did you eat something that disagreed with you?” I shook my head, leaning against the wall, unable to stand up straight. Mark frowned. “Throwing up again? Do you need me to get you more painkillers?” My mom looked at me, confused. “What do you mean, again? Has this been happening a lot?” Without thinking, I wiped my mouth and asked with a bitter smile, “Mom, if I were sick… would you be worried about me?” She didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze dropped to my stomach, a complex expression clouding her face. In the next second, she lunged into the bathroom, her hand flying up and connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. “You have the nerve to say you’re sick? Abby, you’re only twenty-one! You haven’t even graduated from college, and you let some guy knock you up?” What? How could she think that? My mother’s voice dripped with fury. “I ran into your professor the other day. She mentioned you had several boys chasing after you at school. Now I see she was trying to warn me, wasn't she!” “Running around, throwing yourself at boys at your age! You’re a disgrace!” Hearing the commotion, my dad stormed in from the living room and grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas. “Have you no shame? Is everything I ever taught you just gone to waste?” My legs gave out from under me, and I crumpled to the floor, but he yanked me back up. “I’m not,” I argued weakly. “I’m really sick, I…” My dad wasn’t listening. He dragged me furiously towards the front door and, without a shred of mercy, shoved me outside. “Would your mother lie? Would she be wrong about something like this?” “You want to be shameless? Then get out and think about what you’ve done!” The rain was coming down harder now. I pounded on the door, my fists raw, but it was no use. Eventually, I gave up and just started walking, aimlessly, down the cold, empty street, soaked to the bone. When they threw me out, I was only in my pajamas and slippers. I hadn’t even had time to grab my phone. Cold and hunger began to set in. I had no idea where to go. As dusk settled, I stopped a passerby and borrowed their phone, swallowing my pride to call my mother. “Mom, it’s getting dark. I don’t have my phone or any money. Can you please let me come home?” “No. Your father said you can come back when you’re ready to admit you were wrong.” Tears welled in my eyes. “But what was I wrong about? I told you, I’m not pregnant. I’m just sick.” My dad snatched the phone away, his voice booming through the receiver. “Abby, are you still lying? I see you haven’t learned a thing!” “If you have nowhere to go, then go find the father of that bastard child and make him take responsibility for you!” The line went dead, leaving only the dull hum of the dial tone. I numbly handed the phone back, feeling like a stray dog left out in the storm. The rain seemed to fall even harder. I hugged myself, walking blindly into a dingy little motel. I had a few crumpled bills in my pajama pocket, just enough to afford a single night in a place like this. The room was dark and damp, with just a single, sagging bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. I drew the thin curtains, my stomach growling. I checked my pocket again. A few dollars left. I locked the door and decided to go to the small convenience store across the street to buy a cup of ramen. The narrow, poorly lit hallway was filled with the loud, foul-mouthed shouts of a few drunk men. I pulled the hood of my pajamas over my head, kept my eyes on the floor, and tried to hurry past them. Suddenly, a tall man blocked my path, his eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Hey, sweet thing. How much for the night?” I ignored him, my heart pounding, trying to stay calm as I walked past. My legs felt like jelly. When I got back to the motel, the men were gone. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and fumbled for my key. As I went to unlock the door, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. He dragged me into a corner of the hallway, his voice urgent and rough. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks. You in or not?” I shook my head frantically, but all that came out were muffled whimpers. The man’s patience snapped. “Don’t play hard to get. I saw you earlier. What good girl checks into a sleazy motel at night wearing pajamas? You’re here for business, right?” I struggled with all my might, but his grip only tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs. Soon, my strength failed me. He dragged me violently into his room. The world became a blur of pain as he slapped me across the face, then grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the nightstand and brought it down on my head. My head swam, and a hot bloom of pain was the last thing I felt before the world went dark.
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