Dying To Find A Real Family

It turns out my fate had been sealed from the very beginning. No matter what I did, it was always going to be the wrong choice.

A voice had suddenly echoed in my mind, sterile and mechanical, informing me that my role as the tragic supporting character in this story had come to an end. It told me that if I just chose to die, I could exit this world completely.

I agreed without a second thought. Because living like this was infinitely worse than whatever peace death could offer.

It took me three agonizing years to escape my abductors and find my way back home. But in the short three months since my return, scenes like this had played out at least ten times.

This time, it was my adopted sister, Kelsey, who "accidentally" poured a pan of boiling oil over my neck and shoulder. I remember thrashing on the kitchen floor, my screams tearing through my own throat as the agony swallowed me alive.

Yet, the last thing I saw before passing out was seared into my brain: my parents frantically shielding Kelsey, while my older brother, Tim, treated the tiny grease blister on Kelseys hand like a life-threatening casualty.

When I clawed my way back from the gates of hell and woke up in the hospital, the first thing I heard was Tims voice. He wasn't asking if I was okay. He was reprimanding me for making Kelsey worry, claiming she had been crying her eyes out over my safety while her own hand throbbed in pain.

My mother, Carol, sat at the edge of my bed, urging me not to hold a grudge. She was just trying to make you a late-night snack, she murmured. Its your fault for walking into the kitchen so quietly. You startled her.

Kelsey peeked out from behind my mothers back, her face half-hidden as she offered a trembling apology, calling herself clumsy.

But my memory wasn't broken. I remembered the exact moment the boiling oil hit my skin. I remembered screaming. And I remembered the distinct, undeniable smirk on Kelseys face as she watched me burn.

When I refused to speak, my father, Richard, darkened his expression. He lectured me on being the bigger person. Your wounds will heal with time, he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. But the psychological trauma Kelsey suffered tonight is far more severe.

I laid in that hospital bed for half a month. My body was a landscape of unbearable agony, yet my own flesh and blood only cared about extracting my forgiveness.

During those three years in the dark, I had fantasized about coming home a million times.

It was never supposed to be like this.

Transaction complete. Wishing the host... a pleasant death.

As the mechanical voice faded from my mind, the turbulent waves of bitterness, confusion, grievance, and rage that had been drowning me suddenly receded.

I felt incredibly light.

Parents who only had eyes for their adopted daughter. A brother who was blind to the truth. If Kelsey wanted it all so badly, she could have it.

I didn't want this family anymore anyway.

The voice had called itself a "System." I asked it one final question.

"Who is the protagonist?"

The System answered instantly.

Kelsey.

Of course it was.

The quiet suspicion in my heart had finally been validated, and with it came a profound sense of liberation. As a supporting character, my entire existence was designed to be misunderstood, abused, and ultimately sacrificed to further her plotline.

Once I died, I would be free.

"Gemma! It's just a flesh wound, you haven't gone mute! Kelsey already apologized, what more do you want from her?"

Tims sharp reprimand snapped me back to the sterile hospital room.

Kelseys eyes were swimming in tears, the absolute picture of a wronged, fragile victim. My parents looked at me with undisguised irritation.

Without breaking eye contact, I swallowed the blinding pain radiating across my chest, reached over, and violently ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand.

A string of crimson droplets flew through the air, splattering directly across my mothers cheek.

Carol froze in sheer horror.

But my heart swelled with a euphoric joy. Without the antibiotics, the sepsis would come roaring back. I would be dead in no time.

Tim was the first to react. He snatched a fistful of paper towels, slammed them down on my bleeding hand, and twisted toward the hallway, his voice cracking with panic. "Doctor! Get in here! She pulled her line!"

He whipped his head back to me, his eyes wide with a terrifying realization. "Are you insane? Do you have a death wish?"

The nurses rushed in, efficiently re-establishing the IV.

Carols hands shook violently as she wiped my blood from her face. Her voice hitched into a sob. "Gemma, I know you harbor resentment. But this entire family has been revolving around you in this hospital. Pulling a stunt like this... are you trying to drive us all to an early grave?"

Kelsey rubbed her damp eyes. "Gemma, if you really refuse to forgive me... then I'll just go die."

She made a dramatic pivot and ran toward the second-story window.

Tim, whose eyes had been locked on me, moved faster than a thought. He lunged, grabbing Kelsey by the waist. "What the hell are you talking about?" he blurted out. "Even if someone had to die, it wouldn't be you!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. A flash of profound regret crossed his face, and he looked back at me, panicked.

I just watched them. My face was a mask of absolute calm as Richard and Carol clustered around Kelsey, soothing her with overlapping murmurs of comfort.

I let my gaze drift away from the pathetic domestic drama, scanning the hospital room for a faster way out.

We were only on the second floor. Jumping wouldn't guarantee death. Ripping the IV out again would just be an annoyance.

Finally, my eyes landed on the paring knife resting next to a fruit basket on the nightstand.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Gathering every ounce of strength left in my broken body, I snatched the knife and drove it directly toward my own throat.

"Gemma! Stop!"

Tim threw his body across the bed and jammed his hand between the blade and my neck.

The steel didn't slice my throat. Instead, it tore deep into my brothers palm.

Blood immediately surged from the wound, the flesh splitting open in a grotesque smile. Tim let out a muffled groan, the veins in his forehead bulging as he used his other hand to pry the knife from my grip and hurl it across the linoleum floor.

Kelsey let out a piercing shriek. "Tim! Your hand! Theres so much blood!"

My parents, who had been too busy coddling Kelsey to see the actual scuffle, turned around. When Carol saw the gash on Tim's handdeep enough to expose the bonethe color drained completely from her face.

"Gemma! Do you hate your brother that much? He didn't even mean what he said! How can you be so vicious?"

"You little monster!"

Richard roared, stepping forward and delivering a vicious, backhanded slap across my face.

The fragile, half-healed skin beneath my bandages instantly split open. Droplets of fresh blood soaked through the layers of white gauze. The pain was so sharp, so absolute, that my body convulsed into violent tremors, and tears spilled from my eyes against my will.

"You ruthless, ungrateful bitch!" Richard pointed a trembling finger directly at my nose. "Youd actually try to slaughter your own brother? You are a stray dog that bites the hand that feeds it. We never should have brought you back into this house!"

The attending doctor rushed in to suture Tims hand.

Kelsey stood in the corner, pale and tearful. "Gemma, if you're angry, take it out on me. Im the one who burned you. Im the one who took your place. Please don't hurt Tim. He only misspoke because he was worried about me."

The moment the words left her mouth, my parents' expressions hardened even further. The way they looked at me was now laced with pure disgust.

I knew it. Just like the past three months, Kelsey had won again.

When I first came home, I used to fight back. I used to argue. I naively thought our three years apart had just created a temporary awkwardness. I firmly believed that eventually, they would remember that I was their real daughter, their real flesh and blood.

I tried so hard for three months. From the ecstatic joy of my first day back, to the confusion when they couldn't even look me in the eye, to the soul-crushing disappointment of watching them side with Kelsey, over and over again.

The truth was laid bare: during the three years I was locked in a living nightmare, my parents had simply gotten a new daughter. My brother had gotten a new sister.

To them, Kelsey was infinitely more important than I was.

But this isn't how you treat a family member who has crawled her way back from the dead.

It wasn't until today, when I learned that Kelsey was the actual protagonist of this reality, that it all made sense. My entire existence was nothing but a stepping stone for her.

So, there was no point in fighting anymore. Because every time I fought, I was the only one left swallowing glass.

On my very first day home, Kelsey threw herself down the grand staircase and wailed that I had pushed her. Tim didn't even ask questions; he just struck me across the face so hard my lip split open. Even later, when the security footage explicitly proved I was nowhere near her, Tim just frowned, muttered a begrudging, "I guess I saw it wrong," and tossed me a bag of frozen peas for my bruised cheek. And that was the end of it.

Five days after I got back, Kelsey "accidentally" locked me out on the back terrace. It was November. I stayed out there all night. It wasn't until Richard went out to check the weather the next morning that he found me, half-frozen and unconscious on the stone tiles.

Before Kelsey even had to fake a tear, Richard defended her. "The lock is tricky. She didn't mean to. And honestly, Gemma, why didn't you just use the phone we bought you to call us? You're so irresponsible."

But Kelsey had taken my phone. He had seen her take it. He just pretended he hadn't.

When my medication was swapped, a heavy cold mutated into full-blown pneumonia. Lying in the hospital, I begged them to believe me. I told them Kelsey had switched the pills.

Carol just sighed, telling me I was struggling to readjust to civilian life and that I was being paranoid. Even when she found my actual prescription tucked in the back of Kelsey's nightstand drawer, Carol said nothing. She just told me to rest and let the IV do its job.

After I was discharged, Kelsey snapped the braided bracelet off my wrist.

It was a simple woven string with a small silver charm engraved with my initials. Carol had made it for me right before I was kidnapped. During those three years in hell, I held onto that bracelet like a lifeline. I touched it to remind myself who I was, and that I had a home to go back to.

Kelsey broke the string and crushed the silver charm under the heel of her shoe.

My vision went red. I shoved her violently, screaming, "Get the hell away from me!"

Carol ran in at the sound of the commotion. Seeing Kelsey on the floor, her face contorted in rage. She charged at me, shoving me backward with brutal force, and pulled Kelsey into her arms. "Gemma! Are you out of your mind? You're laying hands on your sister over a piece of trash? Three years away and you've turned into a savage!"

Caught off guard, I stumbled backward. The side of my head slammed into the sharp corner of a mahogany end table. A wave of blinding pain hit me, and thick, warm blood ran down my brow, dripping into my eye.

Tears mixed with the blood as it hit the hardwood floor. I looked at my mother, my voice trembling. "It wasn't a piece of trash. You made that for me when I was eight. It was supposed to keep me safe."

Carols face went entirely slack. Then, she looked away, her tone stiff and defensive. "I'll just get you another one. Was it really worth getting physical over?"

Two days later, she handed me a replacement. It was a cheap, plastic-bead bracelet from a dollar store. The string was scratchy. The charm was plastic painted silver. When Carol shoved it into my hand, she didn't even look at me. "Weaving takes too long. This one is fine. Its basically the same thing."

Over and over again, Kelsey proved to me that there was no space left for me in the Crawford house. She was the diamond of the family.

Whether she "accidentally" sliced my arm with a letter opener, or "playfully" pushed me into the deep end of the pool when she knew my lungs hadn't recovered, she always walked away entirely unscathed.

And I was always the one left standing in the wreckage, bearing the blame.

Looking at Kelsey nowtears streaming down her cheeks while a victorious, smug little smile danced on her lipsI just felt... bored.

I didn't want to fight anymore. I just wanted to die.

Why was dying so damn hard?

After the doctor finished suturing Tims hand, he finally caught a clear look at my face. His expression shifted into something thunderous.

"How are you people caring for this patient? The gauze has completely shifted! She's bleeding through the dressing!"

The doctor gestured for the nurse, and together they carefully peeled back the bandages on my neck and shoulder.

The skin beneath looked like something dragged out of a horror film. Charred, blackened flesh twisted into weeping, raw pink tissue. The scabs had split wide open from the slap, and fresh blood bubbled from the cracks. The skin on my neck, where the boiling oil had hit directly, was completely carbonized. Whenever they changed the dressings and had to peel away the dead tissue, it felt like being flayed alive.

"This is unacceptable negligence!" the doctor barked, his voice sharp with professional fury. "These are extensive, third-degree burns! Forget about a full recoveryshe is going to have severe, lifelong complications from this."

He glared at my parents. "We barely got her sepsis under control, and you, as her family, can't even manage basic care? Even with meticulous nursing, she is still at high risk for sudden organ failure! Not to mention her wounds have now been forcibly reopened. Her infection risk just doubled."

"She requires 24-hour supervision. The wounds cannot get wet. They cannot endure any friction. If you ignore this, you will be burying her. Understood?"

The doctors brutal honesty drained the color from everyone in the room.

Especially Richard. His fingers twitched by his sidethe same hand he had just used to strike me. A flicker of genuine horror flashed in his eyes.

He swallowed hard. "Doctor... thank you. We understand. We'll be careful."

After the medical staff left, Richards lips parted. He hesitated. "Gemma... maybe I was a bit heavy-handed just now. But you shouldn't have pulled a knife on your brother..."

Before he could finish his pathetic excuse, I simply closed my one good eye.

Richard didn't speak another word.

Perhaps the doctors grim warning actually penetrated their skulls, because for the remainder of my hospital stay, they handled me with a fragile, walking-on-eggshells caution.

But it wasn't what I wanted.

I stayed in the hospital until I was discharged, and I failed to die the entire time.

The day I finally returned to the house, I was left alone in my bedroom.

Almost immediately, the door clicked shut, and Kelsey stood at the foot of my bed.

"Well, Gemma. Mom, Dad, and Tim have been waiting on you hand and foot lately. You must be feeling pretty proud of yourself, huh?"

When I simply stared through her, she continued her monologue.

"You don't know this, but every time the nurses changed your dressings, Mom and Dad were so disgusted by the sight of you they couldn't eat for days."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a venomous whisper. "Kidnapped for three years. Raped. Five miscarriages. You are completely rotten on the inside. And look at you nowyou look like a goddamn gargoyle. If I were you, I would have crawled into a hole and stayed there. Its embarrassing to look at you."

"Tim won't say it out loud, but he is so sick of you. He only tolerates you because of genetics. Just yesterday, he told me in secret that our family of four was absolutely perfect until you had to come back and ruin it."

Kelsey smiled, a sweet, chilling curve of her lips. "If you had an ounce of self-awareness, youd just go ahead and die. Give this family its peace back."

Her words actually made me pause.

In my memories, Richard used to put on an apron and cook my favorite sweet and sour ribs from scratch. Carol used to buy me ridiculous, extravagant gifts just to see me smile. Tim used to roll his eyes and eat the vegetables I secretly shoveled onto his plate at dinner.

Back then, the house was always echoing with laughter. Even the air felt sweet.

So, what was this family supposed to look like now?

Did a perfect home mean a home without me?

In that split second of my dissociation, Kelsey suddenly lunged at me. She grabbed my wrists with crushing force and used my own hands to smack herself hard across the face, screaming at the top of her lungs, "Gemma! Stop! Im sorry! Don't hit me!"

The bedroom door flew open. Carol stood in the doorway, staring at the bright red handprint blooming on Kelseys cheek. The tray of medical supplies in her hands crashed to the floor.

"Kelsey!"

Carol shrieked, lunging forward and shoving me backward with everything she had.

Kelsey had been gripping my wrists like a vice, but Carols momentum was violent. As I was thrown backward, Kelseys manicured nails dug into my arm and violently ripped down the length of my healing burns.

The fragile pink tissue tore open instantly. Thick blood welled up and began dripping steadily from my fingertips onto the rug.

Kelsey buried her face in Carols chest, sobbing hysterically. "I just... I just wanted to cheer her up. I didn't know she would get so angry."

Still weeping, Kelsey held up a velvet box containing a delicate pearl necklace.

"Gemma... I brought this for you."

"I thought getting some new jewelry would make you feel pretty again. I wanted to see how it looked on you. I... I forgot you were too scared to look in the mirror now. Gemma, I'm so sorry."

Richard had appeared in the doorway. The veins in his neck were rigid with rage. "Gemma! Are you even human? Your sister brings you her most prized piece of jewelry, and you strike her?"

Carols eyes were blazing. "Weve neglected Kelsey this entire time youve been in the hospital, and she hasn't complained once. Shes been nothing but an angel! Youve been home for five minutes and you're already trying to snatch her birthday presents and assault her? You bring nothing but chaos into this house!"

My arm was bleeding. My shoulder was throbbing. But right then, the physical pain vanished entirely.

Because the pain in my chest was so immense, so absolute, I genuinely thought I had already died.

For the past three years, I had lived like an animal in a cage. The only thing that kept me breathing was the desperate, burning need to come home for my birthdays.

But Kelsey got the birthday presents.

So, what was I?

Tim stepped into the room. He gently pulled Kelsey up from the floor, his cold eyes sweeping over my weeping, bloody skin. His voice was absolute ice.

"Look at yourself. You look like a monster. Putting fine jewelry on you is a waste of money."

"Don't think just because you got hurt you can do whatever the hell you want. You brought those injuries on yourself. You have no one else to blame."

"You don't deserve Kelsey's kindness. Apologize to her. Now."

I looked at Kelseys theatrical sobbing. I looked at Richards explosive fury. Carols visceral disgust. Tims freezing apathy.

And suddenly, I smiled.

I looked at this fiercely united family of four through my one good eye, and my voice came out eerily calm.

"I'm sorry."

It was the first time I had spoken out loud since waking up in the hospital. My vocal cords were heavily damaged from the smoke and screaming. My voice sounded like grinding gravelhoarse, broken, and agonizing to listen to.

It forced the rest of their insults to die in their throats.

Carols expression softened slightly. "As long as you know you're wrong. Learn to get along with your sister. Stop bullying her."

Tim patted Kelsey on the shoulder. "Put the necklace away. No one is going to take your things."

He threw one last look at me. "Sit here and think about what youve done. Don't leave this room until you've genuinely reflected."

With that, the three of them wrapped their arms around Kelsey and ushered her out of the room.

The door clicked shut, sealing me in a suffocating silence.

The only sound left in the room was the heavy drip, drip, drip of my blood hitting the hardwood.

The Systems voice echoed in my brain once more. It was deeply seductive, laced with a bizarre, buzzing excitement.

If you die, you will be completely free. You can leave this place and live in a world without pain.

I let out a long, shuddering breath.

I bent down. With my blood-soaked hand, I picked up the heavy, stainless steel medical shears Carol had dropped from the tray.

I pressed the sharp, heavy tip directly against the center of my chest. Over my heart.

And without a single second of hesitation, I drove them in.

I felt the heat leave my body. I felt my life draining away with terrifying speed. And as the darkness rushed in to claim me, the corners of my mouth slowly curled upward.

Finally. I got to leave.

Downstairs, after the three of them had settled Kelsey onto the living room sofa, they stood in the kitchen, their faces clouded with heavy sighs.

Tim leaned against the marble counter. "Gemma's psychology is completely fractured. We need to hire a psychiatrist."

Richard rubbed his temples, exhausted. "Once her mood stabilizes, Ill fly her to the States. I heard there's a clinic in Boston doing experimental skin grafting. I don't care what it costs, well try it."

Carol sighed softly. "Her neck is too raw for a necklace anyway; the pearls would just chafe. I ordered her a limited-edition Cartier bracelet. The skin on her left wrist is still intact. I'll give it to her when it arrives."

When dinner was served, I didn't come down.

Tim marched upstairs and knocked on my door. Silence.

Irritation flashed across his face. "Gemma, throwing a tantrum has a time limit. Don't make the entire family wait on you to eat."

He waited another minute. Still nothing.

His patience evaporated. He grabbed the heavy brass handle, expecting it to be locked. To his surprise, it clicked open effortlessly.

Tim pushed the door open, a lecture already on his tongue. But the moment his eyes registered the scene inside the bedroom, his pupils dilated into pinpricks, and his entire body turned to stone.