Chapter 3

I knelt on the hardwood floor of the living room for a full hour. My legs had gone numb almost past feeling when Ethan finally walked over.

He noticed the blood on the request forms, not quite dry. He paused.

"Who's bleeding?"

He looked at me.

"You feeling sick?"

Before I could answer, he shook his head at his own question. "Probably just steak sauce. You've always been healthy. Go back to your room."

He pressed a cold, leftover chicken drumstick into my hand. I almost cried.

Then, a second later, he said:

"Stop butting heads with Olivia. She's just trying to keep you from wasting money."

I looked at the drumstick in my hand and didn't move.

In my whole life, I had rarely held more than two hundred dollars at a time.

What money did I have to waste?

She wasn't managing anything. She just wanted me begging her for every little thing.

"Ethan, actually, I—"

The moment I started, his brow furrowed. So I swallowed the rest.

There was no point.

In the end, all I said was, "I understand."

I went back to my room. The air always carried that damp, sour smell. Over the years, my clothes and hair had picked it up too.

I'd once put in a request for a cheap bottle of laundry detergent, just to wash it out.

Olivia had denied it.

"Bar soap still works fine. Detergent's like fifteen bucks. Don't spend money on nonsense."

Meanwhile, she used the premium detergent pods Mom and Dad bought her.

Every day she smelled clean and fresh.

I was still thinking about it when another cough shook me.

The blood pooled in my palm, darker than before.

I stared at it a long time without moving.

Then the door swung open.

Olivia stood in the doorway, one hand covering her nose. She tossed a hundred-dollar bill onto my bed.

"Since you were reasonably obedient on your knees today, I'm approving a hundred for food."

I closed my fingers around the crumpled bill, and finally I couldn't hold it back.

"Olivia, what did I ever do to make you hate me this much?"

Her face stiffened for a second.

Then she stepped inside, disgust plain in her eyes.

"The day you were born, Mom and Dad and Ethan stopped looking at only me."

"Of course I hate you."

I sat on the edge of the bed. My fingers curled slowly into a fist.

Olivia lifted her chin.

"Remember. You want money, you come to me. Try going around me again, and I'll have Mom throw you out."

She slammed the door behind her.

My phone buzzed on the bed beside me.

It was Olivia's cast-off. Seven years ago, when I asked to get a phone, she threw this old one at me and made Mom buy her the newest iPhone.

The screen hung for a while before the doctor's message finally loaded.

"Have you talked to your family?"

I looked at the words. Pain radiated through my lungs in waves.

"I'm not doing treatment. No chemo, no palliative. I don't have a family."

"Thank you for caring."

The reply took a long time.

"I understand. I hope your remaining time is as painless as possible. Reach out if you need anything."

I stared at that message for a long time.

In the end, the only person who wanted me to hurt less was a stranger.

The next morning, Mom walked into the living room with Olivia on her arm, beaming.

"Olivia won her dance competition again. Today the whole family is going for a picnic at Pine Ridge Mountain Resort."

I didn't say anything.

Normally, even for a family outing, I needed Olivia's approval to go. She had to give the nod before I qualified as part of the family.

But this time, I didn't want to go.

Mom looked at me. "Emily, aren't you happy?"

Before I could answer, she was already stroking Olivia's hair. "You don't have to submit a request this time. Olivia said you can come."

"Thank Olivia."

I met Olivia's eyes. She looked very pleased with herself.

"Thank you, Olivia."

I knew she had something planned. But I didn't have the strength left to say no.