Chapter 3

I was also a part of the family, but at some point in time, I was considered an outsider.

When we were children, Lydia accidentally fell into a pool and hurt herself, but Garcia Marsh, my mother, blamed me for it.

She asked me why I did not save Lydia and thought that I was a conniving person. She accused me of being jealous of Lydia and wanting to hurt her.

Hence, to protect Lydia, the entire family decided to send me to a boarding school, and I could only return home once a year.

They did it in the name of discipline.

I was trapped in the boarding school for eight years, but Lydia stayed with the family.

Every time Lydia celebrated her birthday, the family organized a fireworks show that spelled her name in the air.

And on my own birthday, I would stand on the roof of the tallest building in the school and stare at the beautiful fireworks before looking down.

Sometimes, I wondered whether they would remember me after I died.

But whenever I had the urge to do it, I would remember my mother and brothers.

I would then think that they would perhaps come to pick me up the next day because they had misunderstood me.

As long as I explained myself, they would come to love me again.

After all, I was also part of the family.

I had imagined meeting them again countless times, but even until the boarding school shut down, they did not come to see me.

I was brought back to the family after the school shut down.

Then, I hid the injuries I sustained from school and pretended to be a sensible child to get into the good graces of the family, only for them to think that I had some sort of ulterior motives.

Once, Lydia was hospitalized due to food poisoning, but they thought that I was competing for the family’s love with Lydia and made her eat unhygienic food.

Enraged, Aaron locked me up in the basement.

No matter how I cried and explained myself, no one listened to me.

They waited in the hospital for Lydia to be discharged, and only after they brought her back did they remember that I was locked in the basement.

By then, I had not eaten for three days and was almost dead.

After I was brought back from school, I became weaker.

Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night because my stomach hurt too much.

I tried going to my mother for help, but they only said that I was being stubborn and refused to change their ways.

So, I left the house, and even to this point of time, I still remembered what they said to me.

“Could you stop? Are you trying to put on a pitiful act again?”

“Sorry, but no one’s going to believe you.”

“If you want to die that badly, do it far away. None of us wants to collect your body!”

So, this time, I was really going to die and would stop being an eyesore to them. That was good too.

It was not as if I needed them as family.

I stared at the blood flowing out of my wrists and felt that it was going too slowly.

I climbed to the roof and stood at the edge.

As I stared at the tall buildings, I remembered how I was bullied by my classmates while I was in boarding school.

Whenever I had the urge to die, I would come to the roof of the school, but I never had the courage to jump.

I had been afraid of dying.

As long as a person could live, why would they want to die?

But I no longer had any need to fear.

My days were numbered, anyway, so I might as well just die.

It was just a pity that no one would come and collect my corpse.

I just wondered whether a person who was not given a proper burial would be able to rest in peace.

I sucked in a deep breath and shut my eyes.

Just when I was about to climb over, my phone rang from my handbag.

I opened my eyes and answered it.

“Hello?”

On the other end of the phone, the undertaker sighed in relief when he heard my voice.

“Where are you? I’m lost.”

I said nothing.

The wind at the balcony blew loudly.

My silence seemed to have clued the undertaker in on something because his voice quivered when he spoke again. “Hey, listen. I was in a hurry just now, so I didn’t grab anything to help give you a proper burial. I can’t come to collect your body.”

The wind was really strong, and no one was in sight.

But for some reason, when someone spoke to me in such a quiet environment, I felt a sense of security.

Because it had been a long time since anyone spoke to me this way.

But I did not want to trouble him any further.

I said, “You don’t have to come collect my body anymore.”