To Bring Home My Faked-Death Sister, I Died for Real

1
After my sister, the golden child of our family, died in an accident, my parents grief was a raw, open wound.
But I had stumbled upon her anonymous online journal, and I knew the truth: she had faked her own death.
I was about to show my parents, to end their suffering, when I overheard my mothers choked whisper to my father.
The one who should be dead is still here, while the one with a future is gone.
Her voice cracked. We poured everything into getting her a masters degree, just waiting for her to help pay for her sisters goddamn medical bills. What did I do to deserve a vampire for a daughter?
I froze outside their door. The vampire, the one who should be deadthat was me.
I was born with cerebral palsy. The doctors told them to let me go. But they refused, my mom and dad, and they clawed their way through hell to raise me. My clumsy, uncoordinated limbs made me a target for bullies at school, and the taunts eventually festered into a crippling anxiety disorder.
My medical bills were a black hole that swallowed every dollar they ever earned. We never had a single nice day.
I was the anchor dragging this family to the bottom.
Staring at their weary backs through the crack in the door, I made a silent promise.
Youre right, Mom. The one who should be dead is me.
Ill be good. Ill go.
Before the end, I looked at my sisters journal one last time. She had posted an update.
Faking my death feels like being reborn. No more digging through the trash for toilet paper just to save a few pennies for my sisters treatments.
So, it was because of me. Of course, it was.
A single tear splattered onto the screen, blurring the words into an indistinct smear. I felt a wave of guilt so profound it almost drowned me, but beneath it, there was a strange, sharp sense of relief.
She was free.
For me, she had lived a life of quiet misery. She never wore new clothes, her sleeves always inches above her wrists, her pants too short. She was a walking collection of hand-me-downsmens shirts, womens blouses, clothes meant for children and the elderly, none of them truly hers. Yet, she would always smile and plead with Mom.
Its Christmas, can we please get Lily a new coat?
She never asked for a thing for herself. She was an angel of self-sacrifice.
On the rare occasions we had meat, she would mimic our parents, carefully picking every lean piece from her plate and placing it in my bowl.
She was so thin, a wisp of a girl, yet she carried me on her back all the way to school. Not for a day, not for a week. But for twelve years, through every scorching summer and bitter winter.
When other kids called me a cripple, my gentle, quiet sister would transform into a lioness, fighting them with a ferocity that was terrifying to watch.
From the day I was diagnosed, the scales of our parents love tipped completely in my favor. But Chloe never fought for their attention. She loved me just as much as they did, and she poured everything else she had into her studies.
Ill get into a great university, Lily, shed promise, her eyes shining with determination. Im going to make life good for all of us.
To everyone, Chloe was our parents pride. She was the single, flickering flame of hope in our broken home.
My hand trembled as I typed out a private message to her.
Chloe, thank you for loving me all these years.
Im so sorry you were stuck with a sister like me.
Im tired. Im going to a place where I can finally rest.
Come home, Chloe. Please.
My vision swam with tears, making the touchscreen unresponsive. I wiped it with my sleeve, my fingers clumsy, and closed the app.
In my drawer was a bottle of sleeping pills, collected one by one over six long months. Finally, a lethal dose.
Just before I swallowed them, I decided to leave two sentences for my parents. A final apology.
Mom, Dad, Im sorry my life dragged you all into the mud.
I cant hold on anymore. I have to let go. Please, dont cry.
I fought to keep my tears from staining the paper. There were a million things I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.
This was enough.
I placed the note on my nightstand, where they couldnt miss it. Then, without a seconds hesitation, I swallowed the entire bottle of pills.
I pulled the covers over myself, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes.
Goodbye, Mom. Dad. Chloe. Goodbye forever.
That night, my soul drifted through our silent apartment. The quiet was finally broken by the sound of the front door opening.
Lily? Are you hungry? Moms voice was heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she forced a cheerful tone. I bought some chicken wings. Ill make them just how you like.
2
Just like always, she called out towards the room Chloe and I shared before heading straight for the kitchen.
Dad was curled up on the sofa, shivering, a nasty flu rattling his chest with every cough. My heart ached looking at himhis hair now more white than black, his face a roadmap of worry, his body thin and frail beneath his tattered clothes. I could still remember when he was the most handsome man in the neighborhood.
Mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her expression softening with concern. You need to get some medicine. This family depends on you. You cant afford to fall apart.
Dad didnt open his eyes, just hugged himself tighter. Im fine.
He tried to stand, but his legs were weak. He shuffled towards their bedroom. Ill just bury myself in blankets. Sweat it out.
He lay down on their lumpy, worn-out mattress and pulled every heavy piece of clothing in the house on top of himself, a makeshift mountain of fabric.
He mumbled something so quietly I almost missed it. That money is better spent on Lilys medicine. He let out a long, shuddering sigh.
I floated beside his bed, tears I could no longer physically shed streaming down my face. As he drifted off to sleep, a muffled sob escaped his lips, a sound he tried to bury in his pillow so Mom and I wouldnt hear.
Chloe my brilliant, beautiful girl how could this happen? His voice was a broken whisper. God, if you had to take one of my daughters why did it have to be her?
I reached out to pat his back, but my hand passed right through him.
Dad, its okay, I whispered, my voice lost to the air. Im gone now. You and Mom dont have to suffer anymore. Maybe maybe Chloe will come home.
He couldnt hear me. He just lay there, his shoulders shaking with silent, repressed grief.
He didnt stop until Mom came in to tell him dinner was ready. He was a master at hiding his pain; she never suspected hed been crying.
Not hungry. Just call Lily.
Mom sighed and walked toward my room. Pushing the door open, she saw me tucked under the covers.
Lily, time to eat. I made your favorite chicken wings.
Silence. I didnt move.
She tried again, her patience wearing thin. Lily?
Still nothing.
Suddenly, her frustration boiled over. Are you listening to me? Or are you dead in there? I slave away for you day in and day out, and this is the thanks I get? Cant you give me one moment of peace? Must you always be lying in bed like a useless lump?
Her voice rose with every word. Im talking to you! Do you hear me? The whole family is falling apart, and all you can do is sleep? It should have been you! Then I could die too, and wed all finally be free!
The more she yelled, the more she broke. Tears streamed down her face, and she swiped at them angrily with the back of her hand.
I rushed forward instinctively to hug her, but my arms closed on empty air. I could only watch, helpless, repeating the words she couldnt hear. Im sorry, Mom. Im so, so sorry.
I knew she didnt hate me. Not really. It was my illness they hated, the relentless burden that had tormented them for twenty-six years.
She turned and stalked out of the room, slumping into a chair at our rickety, three-legged dining table to weep. On the table sat three bowls of rice, a small plate with two glistening chicken wings, and a side of homemade pickles.
The wings were for me. Mom only ever bought two.
At first, the butcher would sneer at her. Who buys just two chicken wings? Mom would just offer a tight, embarrassed smile. After a while, he learned about our familys situation. He never made a comment again. Sometimes, hed even throw in some scallions and ginger for free.
3
When Chloe was still here, her eyes would practically bulge out of her head with longing for those wings, but shed always force a smile and say, You have them, Lily. I dont really like them.
I asked her once, Doesnt it make you sad? That Mom and Dad love me more?
She had laughed. Of course not. Whats there to be sad about? They give you more when it comes to food and things, sure. But they paid for my education, didnt they? Getting me through school cost just as much, if not more. So no, I never felt it was unfair.
The memory of her sweet smile was a sharp pain in my chest. If it werent for my vampire disease, our family could have had a good life.
Mom and Dad both worked two jobsconstruction during the day, washing dishes at a restaurant at night. Together, they brought in almost five thousand dollars a month. But my physical therapy alone cost two thousand. And that was the cheap option. There were free state-funded programs, but Mom insisted the private clinic had better results. For twenty-six years, rain or shine, she took me there and picked me up.
Then there was the anxiety and depression. My therapy sessions were a hundred dollars an hour, three or four times a week. Mom never batted an eye. And the medication on top of that
It all meant that when Chloe went to college, there was no money left for her living expenses. She had to work multiple jobs while studying full-time.
Because of me, every single person in my family was trapped in their own private hell.
I had tried to end it before. Several times. But each time, they had found me, saved me.
This time, thank God, they were too late.
I remember when I was little, my grandmother would take a bus for hours from her village to bring us fresh eggs from her farm. She saw how my illness was breaking her daughter, how it was grinding Mom down to nothing.
One day, she couldn't take it anymore. "You have two choices," she told my mother, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desperation. "Either you leave that child somewhere, or you leave your husband and remarry. You're still young! Your life shouldn't be over just because it's begun! If you won't feel sorry for yourself, then I'll feel sorry for you! You are my flesh and blood!"
Mom refused to listen. They had a terrible fight, and after that, my grandmother never visited again. Just like that, my mother lost her own mother, too.
My thoughts drifted back to the present. Mom covered the plate of chicken wings, her own appetite gone. Before heading to bed, she stopped at my door.
"The food is on the table. If you get hungry, get up and eat it yourself."
No response.
This time, she didn't get angry. She just turned and went to her room.
The next morning, Dads flu was worse, but he still had to be at the construction site by six. He had no strength left, but he pushed himself anyway.
I wanted to scream. I jumped in front of them, a frantic, invisible ghost. "Dad! Mom! Just pull back my blanket! Please! I'm already dead! You don't have to work yourselves to death anymore! I'm begging you, just look!"
Mom glanced at the untouched rice and chicken on the table and yelled towards my room. "Lily, what is this new tantrum? Why didn't you eat last night? Your father and I are leaving for work. You get up and eat right now. I'll be back at noon to take you to physical therapy, you hear me?"
4
I waved my arms wildly in front of her face. Mom, just lift the blanket! Im gone! Youre free!
Her old flip phone rang, and she paused to answer it. A womans voice crackled through the speaker.
Hey, its Sarah. Ive got some good news for you.
My mothers first instinct was always work. Is there a job opening?
No, not that. Its well, my friends son, hes thirty-five and not married yet. Hes from a decent family, you know, just an ordinary guy. And I was thinking, with Lilys condition, its not easy for her to find someone. Maybe we could set them up? That way, you and your husband would finally be free of the burden. You could start saving for your retirement. Lets be honest, as long as Lily is with you, youll never have a day of peace. This is a good thing, someone willing to take her off your hands.
The color drained from my mothers face. For a woman who was always so composed, her voice was pure venom.
You must have a lot of free time to be sticking your nose in my familys business! Your daughter is the one nobody wants, you bitch! Who do you think you are? Stay the hell out of my life!
She slammed the phone shut, her hands shaking with rage.
This wasnt the first time. People had tried to set me up before. The suitors were always men with mental disabilities, developmental issues, or physical handicaps like my own. As long as a woman has a uterus, she has value, theyd say. She can always be married off. But my parents could never bear the thought of me being mistreated in someone elses home, so they held on, bearing the unbearable.
My heart ached for my mother. I wrapped my arms around her, a useless, spectral hug. Why couldnt a woman this good have been blessed with two healthy daughters?
She turned her anger towards my room. Lily, for Gods sake, cant you be more considerate? Stop with these moods! I know Ive been distracted, but its because of your sister! Ive been out of my mind with grief! Dont be angry anymore, okay? Or youll make me angry, too! Im leaving for work! And if that food is still on the table when I get back, youll have me to answer to!
I stood before her, my ghostly tears flowing freely. She saw nothing.
At noon, as precise as an alarm clock, Mom returned. She hurried into the kitchen, shouting as she cooked.
Lily, time for the rehab center! Get ready!
She stir-fried some vegetables with practiced ease, the entire process taking less than five minutes. The rice was already in a thermos from the morning, ready to take with us for me to eat at the center.
When she came out and saw last nights meal still sitting untouched on the table, her temper flared. She stormed into my room, her face a mask of impatience.
A flicker of joy went through me. Finally. She was going to find me.
What is wrong with you? Your moods are unbearable! I treat you like a queen, and for what? You ignore me when I talk, you refuse to eat! Are you trying to kill me?
She grabbed my shoulder and started to shake me, her frustration mounting with each movement.
What is it? Lily! Answer me! What are you so angry about this time? Who upset you now? Cant you have a little mercy on me? Im exhausted!
She was at her breaking point. Overwhelmed with anger and despair, she slapped my backside twice over the blankets.
Talk to me! I said, talk to me, do you hear?! Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged.
Mom! Mom! Lilys trying to kill herself! Stop her!
A familiar, frantic voice cut through the air.
Thank God. Chloe was back.
Mom froze, thunderstruck, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at my sister. Chloe didnt have time to explain. She rushed to pull back my blankets, and in that instant, the world stopped for them both.

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