Don’t Cry at My Funeral

The day Grandma died, my parents, both of whom had remarried, began arguing over who would have to take me.

In the original timeline, I had been concerned about Dad working himself so hard and chose to live with him so that I could be there for him.

I even picked the numbers on the lottery ticket that won him a multimillion-dollar jackpot.

After he became rich, he bought a nice place and luxury cars for my stepmother and their children.

Yet he would not spend a cent on my pain medication.