On My Last Day I Cooked For The Brothers Who Hated Me

I've been the family curse ever since I was a child, all because I can see the countdowns hovering over the heads of my loved ones.

I saw my grandfathers. Then my fathers. Then my mothers.

They all died, on the day their timers ran out, in a string of perfect, terrible accidents.

My three older brothers decided it was my fault, that my words were a curse. They hated me for it. But my little sister, the one whose birth cost our mother her life, she grew up bathed in their love.

Sophie, they called her, our little lucky star. The moment she was born, everything started going right for the family.

But they forget. Mom died because of her.

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I saw my own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and a countdown of my own floating above it.

So I went out and bought myself an urn I liked.

Then I went home and cooked a feast, an entire table full of food, hoping for one last meal with my brothers.

But the timer ran out, and I was still waiting. No one ever came.

1

It started when I was little, seeing those numbers. A clock ticking down to zero, visible only to me.

The first time I saw one, it was over my grandfathers head. I told my parents, but they just chuckled at my childish fantasy and ruffled my hair.

A day later, I saw him again. He was lying in a bed, covered by a white sheet. The room was full of people crying, but I was too young to understand what it all meant.

Then, the numbers appeared over my dads head.

When I told him, his smile froze for a second before snapping back into place. That night, he didnt come home from the office. Instead, the phone rang, sharp and frantic. My mother answered, and the color drained from her face.

Her belly was huge by then, pregnant with Sophie. She ran for the door, desperate, but she was too clumsy, too panicked. She tripped on the front steps.

And in that instant, as she lay on the ground, the familiar 24-hour countdown appeared over her head.

That was the day Sophie was born. It was the day my mother bled out on a hospital bed, the day the doctors said there was nothing more they could do. I stood helpless in the hallway.

My third brother, Ryan, shoved me to the floor. Youre a monster, he spat, his face twisted. You cursed them. You killed them.

The cold floor scraped my palms, and tiny beads of blood welled up on my skin. I wanted to cry out from the pain, but when I looked around, no one moved toward me. Their eyes were filled with fear and disgust.

I couldnt make a sound. I bit my lip, pulled myself up, and brushed off my little dress, whispering to myself that it was okay.

I curled myself into a ball in the corner, listening to the waves of sobs coming from her hospital room. I hugged my knees and whimpered into the fabric of my dress.

Daddy Mommy

I must have fallen asleep like that. When I opened my eyes again, the hallway was empty. They had all left. Why didn't anyone wake me? Had they just left me here?

A knot of panic tightened in my chest. I scrambled to my feet, but my legs were numb from sitting for so long, and I pitched forward, hitting the hard floor again. In the sterile quiet of the long corridor, only the flickering fluorescent lights kept me company.

My body ached. I couldnt hold it in anymore. I cried.

From that day on, everything was different.

My three brothers showered Sophie with affection, but they avoided me like I was a disease. Even the housekeepers treated me with a thinly veiled contempt. I often went to bed hungry. Still, somehow, I survived to be eighteen.

Ryan always said only the wicked live long.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was so bad that death didn't want me.

2

I climbed out of bed, my worn slippers shuffling against the floorboards as I made my way to the bathroom. My hair was brittle, my cheeks hollow. No one would ever guess I was the eldest daughter of the Hayes family.

Not that it mattered. Because I could finally see it.

Through the mirror, the crimson numbers hovered just above my hairline. 23:59:47.

The day had finally come.

I wanted to laugh, but all I could manage was a slight curve of my lips. I set my water glass down on the counter and stared at my reflection, my mind a blank slate. I had no friends, hardly spoke to anyone. How was I supposed to spend my last day on Earth?

After a long while, I slowly got myself ready and descended from the attic that served as my room. My original bedroom had been converted into a walk-in closet for Sophie years ago. I used to watch her through the small attic window, a carefree girl playing on the manicured lawn, her laughter echoing in the air. I was a ghost in my own home, a secret observer of their happiness.

I didn't expect to see my second brother, Ethan, and Sophie still at home. As I came down the stairs, I heard Sophies bright, cheerful laugh.

Here, Ethan, let me do your tie, she offered, full of self-importance.

Ethan bent his head down, a fond smile on his face as he let her fumble with the silk. She tied a lopsided, crooked knot.

Sophie stepped back to admire her work, her brow furrowed. Oh, it looks all wrong. Maybe you should just do it yourself.

But he didnt undo it. He just reached out and affectionately messed up her hair. No way. Its our Sophies first attempt at a tie. Its perfect. He smiled. Come on, Ill drive you to school today.

Sophie beamed and took his hand.

A bitter ache spread through my chest. I remembered when I was little, knitting my first scarf. Id stayed up for nights, my fingers clumsy and sore, until Id finished a slightly lumpy, uneven scarf for Ethan. I presented it to him, my heart pounding, desperate for a word of praise, for the gentle head pat he used to give me.

He wouldnt even take it. His face was a dark cloud. Who knows if Id be cursed just by wearing it, hed muttered.

I ended up giving the scarf to our family dog, Buddy, hoping it would make his bed a little warmer. The next day, I found it in the trash can, cut into a dozen pieces, impossible to ever put back together. Ignoring the grime, I reached in and picked out every single scrap. I took them back to my room, washed them, and put them in a box. I never looked at them again.

The front door opened. Just as they were about to leave, I decided to try.

Ethan. Sophie.

They turned, their expressions shifting. Sophies eyes lit up for a moment. Ellie! she called out happily.

Ethans face hardened. He looked like he was about to say something sharp, but a glance at Sophie made him hold his tongue.

Could we could we all have dinner together tonight? The words felt heavy and awkward in my mouth. I held my breath, waiting. Just this once.

Of course! Sophie chirped, at the exact same moment Ethan said, We cant.

The two opposing answers hung in the air. Sophie looked up at Ethan, confused. Why not?

Yes, why not?

Dont you remember? Ethan said smoothly. You promised Liam youd go with him to that charity auction. Its tonight.

I did?

Under Ethans firm gaze, Sophies memory seemed to suddenly click into place. Oh, right! She turned back to me, her face a mask of apology. Im so sorry, Ellie. We cant do dinner tonight. Then her bright smile returned. How about tomorrow? The whole family can have dinner together tomorrow, I promise.

The whole family? A smile that felt more painful than a sob stretched across my face. The bitterness in my heart was a flood, threatening to drown me.

I dont have a tomorrow.

But I nodded anyway, watching them leave. Just before the door closed, Ethan shot me a warning look, his eyes as cold and sharp as a scalpel, as if he wanted to dissect me right there in the foyer.

Eleanor, he said, his voice low and menacing. Dont get any ideas.

If you do anything to hurt Sophie, youll regret it.

Stay away from her.

3

I watched them disappear down the driveway. The fragile bubble of hope that had swelled in my chest moments before popped, leaving me cold and empty, like Id been plunged into ice water.

Is that really how he saw me? A villain? A monster?

My heart ached, and a sharp pain flared in my stomach. I went to the kitchen to find something to eat, but there was nothing. Nothing except half a stale bagel sitting on the counter. I used it to crack open a couple of walnuts I found in the pantry, but it did nothing to quiet the gnawing hunger.

One of the housekeepers walked past, rolling her eyes in a way she thought I couldnt see. When she noticed the bagel in my hand, she let out a theatrical gasp.

Oh, my! Miss Hayes, you werent going to eat that, were you? I was just about to throw it out. Her tone was laced with false concern. Its a shame, Mr. Hayes and Miss Sophie are always up so early, so we make breakfast then. If youd like something, I suppose I could cook for you now.

Her pitying act made my skin crawl.

I stared at her blankly and shook my head, my stomach twisting into a tight knot. I turned and went back up to my room. There was no place for me in this house. Even the staff treated me with their own special brand of passive-aggressive cruelty.

The burning in my stomach was getting worse, so intense it was hard to control my emotions. My hands trembled as I fumbled with a bottle of painkillers, dry-swallowing a couple and chasing them with cold water from the tap. The pain slowly subsided to a dull throb.

I changed my clothes and put on a little makeup, trying to make myself look less like a ghost.

My first stop was a funeral home. With only one day left, I couldn't get anything custom-made. I settled on a simple, elegant mahogany box with a silver inlay. It would be my new home.

I walked out clutching the urn, feeling the curious and startled glances of people on the street. I ignored them and continued to my next destination.

I found myself walking past the university that my third brother, Ryan, attended. It was between classes, and the campus was alive with the sound of laughter and conversation. I watched them with a pang of envy. The vibrant, hopeful energy of youth. My own education had stopped when I was ten.

Just as I was about to turn away, I saw Ryan getting out of his car near the main gate. This was my last day. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and started towards him.

As I got closer, I saw he was on the phone, his brow furrowed in a serious expression. His eyes flickered towards me, and a flash of suspicion crossed his face.

I heard him say into the phone, I know. Ill handle it.

He hung up and strode towards me. I wanted to ask him to come home for dinner, but the look in his eyes froze the words in my throat.

Eleanor, he said, his voice dangerously quiet. If you want to keep living in this house, youll learn to keep your pathetic little schemes to yourself.

If I find out youve done anything to upset Sophie, I will personally make your life a living hell.

4

I froze, my body turning to ice. Sophie again.

I knew instantly who had been on the phone: Ethan. Of course. In their eyes, I was born bad luck, the girl who cursed her own family to death.

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered Ryans cruelty. Right after our mother died, a kind nurse had driven me home. Ryan locked me in the small pantry in the basement. For three days, no one came. No food, no water. The memory is still a dark stain on my childhood.

On the third day, just as I thought I was going to die, our oldest brother, Liam, appeared like an avenging angel. He let me out. He never asked what happened, never spoke a word about it, but over the years, he was the one who treated me with the least amount of malice. I was sure Ethan had already called him, too.

Seeing my silence, Ryan must have thought I was scared. He leaned in closer, his voice a chilling whisper right next to my ear.

You know, with my resources, making someone just disappear is remarkably easy.

My pupils constricted. I stood there, rigid, as he turned and walked onto campus without a backward glance.

I walked away, my feet moving automatically, my mind numb.

My next stop was a portrait studio. The young woman at the front desk was kind. When I told her why I was therefor a memorial portraither eyes filled with a sympathy so genuine it hurt. She said a few soft words of comfort.

And just like that, the dam inside me broke.

Its funny how the simple kindness of a stranger can undo you when your own family gives you none. I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed, wetting her blouse with my tears. She didnt say a word, just gently patted my back until I was finished. She was a stranger, but in that moment, she gave me more warmth than I had felt in years.

After I left the studio, I just sat on a curb for a long time, hugging the urn and the portrait of my own smiling face, staring at nothing.

Finally, I decided to go to Liams office downtown. Id never been there before, and it took me a while to find the right building. The receptionists at the front desk stopped me. No appointment, no entry. The boss was in a meeting.

I didnt give up. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. I tried again. And again. Nothing. I found his profile on a messaging app, the one connected to his number.

Its my last day, I typed, my fingers trembling. I just want to see you. Please. Just for a minute.

I sent the message and waited, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Two hours passed. The message remained unread.

Time was running out. I didnt want to die on a city street. I went home.

The house was empty; the housekeeper was out running errands. The silence in the huge villa was absolute, cavernous.

I started cooking early, clinging to a sliver of hope that they might come home. My phone stayed silent. No replies, no notifications.

I sat at the dining room table, using a small hand mirror to watch the countdown above my head.

Three hours left.

All I wanted was for them to be with me. I wanted to see their faces when I died. Would they be happy? Relieved, probably. Thats what I told myself. In this world, no one cared if I lived or died. The people who were supposed to be my family hated me.

I cooked a feast. Hot oil splattered onto my hand, the stinging pain a distant sensation, overshadowed by a strange, manic excitement building inside me. My body started to tremble uncontrollably.

Two hours left. I sat at the table, my eyes glued to the front door.

With shaking hands, I picked up my phone and called Liam one last time.

Liam.

He answered. Silence on the other end.

My voice was tight, strained. Can you can you please come home? For dinner?

Im going to die.

5

The moment the words left my mouth, I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and frantic in the silence. All this time Id told myself I was ready for death, but now, at the end, I found myself desperate for one more look at the world.

The room was so quiet I could hear the air moving in my lungs. Just when I thought he wouldn't answer, his voice cut through the silence, and I felt myself fall.

Eleanor, do you really think a lie like that will make us feel sorry for you?

You are unbelievable. The lengths youll go to for attention. Do you think were still the gullible little kids you used to fool?

Have you forgotten how Grandpa and Mom and Dad died?

My heart shattered. No, its not like that! I screamed inside my head, but no sound came out.

Tears streamed down my face, silent drops splashing onto the floor. I felt like a marionette with its strings cut, slumping in my chair. Im not lying, I whispered, the words tasting like ash. Please. Im begging you. Just this once. Please?

The line went dead. Just before he hung up, I thought I heard Sophies happy laugh in the background, calling his name.

The frantic energy that had coursed through me moments before vanished, replaced by a profound, crushing emptiness. I sat stiffly at the table laden with food and began to talk to myself, imagining them there, re-enacting the loving scenes I had only ever witnessed from the shadows.

I think I was going crazy. Lost in my own one-act play, I started to laugh, a hollow, broken sound that grew louder and louder until it was choked with sobs.

The minutes ticked by. No one came home.

I waited until midnight. Three minutes left.

I tried to look back on my life, but it was a short, simple story. There wasn't much to review. A tragedy from the moment I was born.

The final countdown began. I rested my head on the table, my urn and my memorial portrait standing beside me like silent dinner guests.

5 4 3 2 1

The numbers vanished. Everything went still. The world became utterly silent, not even the sound of my own breathing to fill the void.

And then, I heard a click from the front door. Someone was home.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "281505" to read the entire book.