Chapter 1

To shield my sister from a street thug's iron bar after she cut class, my right leg was shattered. The infection that followed left the doctors no choice but to amputate.

From that day on, I spent ten years in a wheelchair.

Consumed with guilt, my sister massaged my stump every single day. My parents wiped their reddened eyes and promised that everything they owned would go to me someday, to make up for what I had lost.

Then my sister won the highest international ballet award, and the whole family wept with joy.

Before the ceremony, she looked at my wheelchair. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"This is the greatest moment of my life. If a cripple tags along, what will the press write about me?

"Dad, Mom, just this once, let the three of us go together, looking our best. Please?"

My parents caved in the end.

Before they left, Mom was afraid I might fall, so she lashed me to the wheelchair with hemp rope.

"Be good, Audrey. I put all the knives and scissors away. Don't move around. We'll bring you back egg tarts from Belem."

I sat obediently in the middle of the living room and watched the front door close, then heard the lock turn from outside.

That night, the old electric blanket in the bedroom short-circuited and caught fire.

The flames burned their way from the bedroom into the living room.

I could not break free of the ropes. I could not reach the door handle. I could not find a single thing sharp enough to cut myself loose.

The fire licked up my one remaining leg.

The pain was beyond anything I had ever known. I sobbed through the smoke, begging my family to save me.

They hung up.

On the television, my sister stood in the spotlight, her smile radiant and dazzling.

1

Smack!

My sister Vivian Mercer slammed the gold-embossed award letter down on the table, her eyes blazing as she looked at our parents.

"Not even this once?

"I want to go to New York with my head held high. I want just one trip where nobody stares and whispers. Is that so much to ask?"

The living room fell silent.

My hands froze on the wheels of my chair. I stared at her, lost.

I had changed into a new dress just for her ceremony. Pale pink, with a hem long enough to hide the empty space on my right side.

I asked quietly, "Vivian, what if I don't even get out of the car? What if I just sit in the very last row of the theater and watch you from far away? Would that still not be okay?"

I reached out to tug the hem of her skirt.

Vivian recoiled as if something filthy had touched her.

"Can you stop acting so pathetic all the time!"

She jabbed a finger at my right leg, her voice shrill enough to cut.

"Do you have any idea what these last ten years have been like for me?

"No matter how well I dance, no matter how many awards I win, whenever anyone mentions my name, they always tack on the same line: Vivian is so devoted. She never forgets what her disabled sister sacrificed for her!

"The second you show up, every single pair of eyes lands on your wheelchair!

"I have a meeting with the director of the National Ballet Company tomorrow. How am I supposed to introduce you? Tell them my sister is a cripple?"

I flinched at the force of her words.

My right leg, the one that no longer existed, began to ache again.

Ten years ago, Vivian had skipped school to hang out at an arcade and gotten cornered in an alley by a group of street thugs.

By the time I found her, an iron bar was already swinging down at her skull.

I did not think. I just threw myself over her and pulled her into my arms.

The bar shattered my right knee.

The wound became severely infected, and the doctors had to amputate.

On the day of the surgery, Vivian collapsed against the side of my hospital bed and sobbed until she nearly passed out, repeating the same words over and over.

"I'll be your right leg from now on.

"I'll take care of you for the rest of my life."

But now she was ashamed of me.

My father, Gerald Mercer, pulled her behind him, his face hardening.

"Vivian, is that any way to talk to your sister?

"She ended up like this because she saved your life. How can you be so ungrateful?"

My mother, Helen Mercer, hurried over and crouched in front of me, resting a comforting hand on my hair.

"Audrey, don't take it to heart. Your sister didn't mean it."

She turned back to Vivian, her voice heavy with helplessness.

"Your sister would be home alone. Nobody to cook for her. Even getting to the bathroom is difficult for her. How can we just leave her behind?"

Tears streamed down Vivian's face.

"My whole life, the two of you have only ever cared about her!

"Everything has to go her way. Everything has to revolve around her!

"I'm going to accept an international gold medal. This is the most important day of my life!"

She shook all over as she cried.

"Don't I deserve one single normal family photo? Just one?

"If she goes, then I'd rather not accept the award at all!"

Dad fell silent.

He looked at his younger daughter, gasping through her sobs, then at the wheelchair beneath me. The reproach in his eyes slowly gave way to hesitation.

A long time passed before he spoke, his voice low.

"Honey, this ceremony really does mean a lot to Vivian.

"Audrey doesn't like going out anyway. Big crowds just make her uncomfortable. Why don't we let her stay home for one night? We'll be back first thing the day after tomorrow."

Mom bit her lip. The resolve on her face crumbled piece by piece.

She turned to me with a tentative, coaxing smile.

"Audrey, your father and I will go with Vivian to New York. You stay here and be a good girl until we get back, okay?

"I bought bread and milk. They're right there on the coffee table, within arm's reach."

All three of them were watching me.

I knew it was not really a question.

I had no right to say no.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and forced a smile.

"Okay.

"I'll be fine by myself."

2

Over the next few hours, the house buzzed with excitement, as lively as a holiday.

Mom busied herself ironing Vivian's expensive swan costume.

Dad, his face flushed with pride, called every relative he could think of to announce that his daughter had won an international gold medal and was about to join the National Ballet Company.

Vivian sat in front of the mirror, trying on her new earrings again and again.

Nobody looked at me.

Just before they headed out the door, Mom suddenly pulled a bundle of hemp rope from the closet.

"Audrey, you know how your muscles cramp up sometimes. If you fall out of your wheelchair, there'll be no one here to help you back up.

"I'll tie you in good and snug. That way you'll be safe."

I stared at her, stunned.

"Mom, I won't move around. I promise."

"Just do as I say. It's for your own good."

She did not wait for my consent. She wound the rope around my waist and lashed me to the back of the wheelchair.

One loop.

Two loops.

Then she pulled it into a knot that would never come undone.

Still not satisfied, she found a thinner cord and tied my left ankle to the footrest.

The coarse rope dug into my waist, making it difficult to breathe.

Mom, though, patted her hands together, satisfied.

"There. Now you won't fall."

Then she gathered up the fruit knife and scissors from the coffee table and locked them inside the drawer.

"Better to put the sharp things away too, so you don't accidentally cut yourself while you're home alone.

"I left the heater running. The warmth from the bedroom should reach the living room. If you get cold, just pull another blanket over yourself.

"When we get back, we'll bring you your favorite egg tarts from Belem."

I nodded obediently.

"I'll be here waiting for you."

Thud.

The front door swung shut.

A moment later, the crisp click of a lock echoed from the other side.

They had locked the door from outside.

The apartment fell instantly silent.

I sat in the center of the living room and watched the clock on the wall tick away, second by second.

On the television, a preview segment was playing from New York's Metropolitan Arts Center.

The host smiled as she introduced tomorrow night's main event: the medal ceremony honoring International Ballet Gold Medal winner Vivian Mercer.

The camera swept across the lavishly decorated stage.

I gazed at the dazzling lights and murmured, "Vivian is going to look so beautiful."

The sky grew dark.

Outside, the temperature dropped sharply. But the warmth drifting in from the bedroom kept getting hotter and hotter.

Some time later, a sharp, acrid smell of burning crept into the air.

Zzzt...

A strange sound came from the bedroom.

Then a wisp of black smoke curled through the gap beneath the door.

My stomach dropped.

"A fire?"

I pushed hard on the wheels, trying to get closer.

But the rope around my waist was tied too tight. The moment I leaned forward, it bit into my abdomen, and the wheelchair groaned in protest.

The smoke thickened.

Firelight flickered through the bedroom doorframe, painting the living room walls in shifting orange.

I snatched the phone from the coffee table and dialed Mom.

It rang over a dozen times before she finally picked up.

On her end, I could hear laughter and the rumble of the airport shuttle.

"Hello? Audrey, what's wrong?"

Mom's voice was light and cheerful.

"Mom, there's smoke in the house! I think there's a fire!"

The moment I opened my mouth, the smoke choked me into a coughing fit.

"Call Mrs. Patterson next door, please! Have her come check!"

"A fire?"

Mom paused, then her tone turned stern almost immediately.

"Audrey, don't be ridiculous. We had the appliances inspected just a few days ago. There's no way there's a fire."

"I'm telling the truth! The bedroom is full of smoke. I can see flames!

"Mom, please, call Mrs. Patterson and tell her to come help me!"

Dad's impatient voice carried over from the other end.

"What now? What's Audrey fussing about this time?"

Mom held the phone farther away.

"She says the house is on fire."

Dad seemed to check something on his phone.

"On fire? The smart-home app isn't showing a tripped breaker. The power readings are steady.

"She's probably just upset that we left without her."

Vivian cut in.

"Mom, she's just jealous.

"Last time I went to the city for a competition, she swore she was so dizzy she could barely hold her head up. You and Dad rushed home in the middle of the night. And what did you find? She was sitting in the living room watching TV, perfectly fine.

"She just can't stand seeing anything good happen to me."

I pounded the armrest over and over in desperation.

"I'm not lying!

"The fire is already spreading out of the bedroom. Mom, help me!"

"Enough, Audrey!"

Mom cut me off, her voice sharp.

"Vivian is accepting her award tomorrow, and you pick this exact moment to scare us with lies? Are you deliberately trying to ruin this for her?

"I tied you to that chair so you wouldn't crawl around and hurt yourself. Now sit still and stop making trouble!"

"Mom..."

"If you pull this stunt one more time, I'll starve you for two days when I get back!"

The line went dead.

Nothing left but the flat, dead silence of a dropped call.

I stared at the dark screen. Tears flooded my eyes.

3

The fire in the bedroom was out of control.

Flames raced along the carpet toward the living room, like a snake flicking its tongue, closing in fast.

Thick smoke rolled across the ceiling.

I choked and coughed violently, tears and mucus streaming down my face.

"Help...

"Is anyone there..."

I screamed toward the front door with everything I had.

But the old building's walls muffled sound too well, and the windows and door were sealed tight. No one answered.

I bent down and clawed at the knot around my waist.

Mom had pulled the knot brutally tight.

My fingers dug into the knot over and over. The rough fibers tore the skin from my fingertips, and blood quickly stained the rope.

The knot did not budge.

The flames reached the curtains.

With a roar, the entire curtain ignited at once, flooding the living room with light as bright as midday.

A wave of scorching heat slammed into me.

My hair curled and singed. The skin on my face stung in waves.

I grabbed my phone again and called Dad.

This time it rang for a long time.

Long enough that I thought he would never answer.

"What now?"

Dad's voice came through, seething with irritation.

In the background I could hear the sweep of orchestral music, glasses clinking, people trading pleasantries.

"Dad..."

My throat had already been scraped raw by the smoke.

"The fire reached the living room... it's so hot... please, save me..."

"Audrey, are you ever going to stop?"

Dad shouted in a low, furious voice.

"I'm in the middle of a toast with the National Ballet's artistic director, Mr. Langford! Do you have any idea how important this is?"

"Dad, let me switch to video. You'll see, there really is a fire!"

I fumbled to hit the video button, my hands shaking.

The screen filled with thick gray smoke, broken only by the flickering glow of flames.

Just then, a glass on the table exploded.

Bang!

Dad's brow furrowed.

"What the hell is all that noise?"

Vivian snatched the phone and stared at the blurred image with a cold smirk.

"Dad, look, there's light to her right. The TV is still on, see?

"What kind of house fire leaves the TV running?

"She obviously got hold of a smoke bomb and is faking the whole thing!"

I aimed the camera at the flames with all my strength, but a flying spark seared the back of my hand and I jerked away.

"Vivian...

"I'm really going to burn to death.

"Please, tell Mom and Dad to save me..."

"Cut the sob story!"

Vivian stared me down through the screen.

"Audrey, you're the most selfish piece of trash alive!

"You're a cripple, so you want to drag everyone else into hell with you?

"Do you know that because of you, I haven't dared bring a single friend home in ten years?

"Tomorrow's gold medal is mine. Don't you dare ruin it with this pathetic stunt!"

Dad took back the phone.

"Audrey, I'm so disappointed in you.

"We were right not to bring you.

"If you really are burning the house down, I won't forgive you even if you die!"

The video cut out.

I called back. It went straight to voicemail.

"Your call has been forwarded to voicemail," the recording said.

Mom's number went straight to voicemail too.

So did Vivian's.

They had blocked me.

In the middle of this fire, my family abandoned me. Every single one of them.

4

Everything around me was a sea of flames.

The heat melted the plastic cup on the table into a shapeless lump, and toxic fumes filled every corner of the room.

Every breath felt like swallowing a handful of red-hot knives.

The fire reached the rubber tires of the wheelchair.

A hissing sizzle rose up.

Black smoke billowed instantly.

The metal frame turned scorching hot.

My left foot was tied to the footrest. There was nowhere to go.

Flames crawled up the hem of my dress.

The synthetic fabric ignited on contact, melting and fusing to my skin.

"Ahhh...!"

The scream ripped from my throat.

I thrashed wildly, trying to knock the wheelchair over.

A metal edge scraped my wrist raw. The rope around my waist cut deeper and deeper.

But this rope, the one Mom had tied to "protect" me, had become the very thing dragging me to hell.

I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

"Help...

"My house is on fire... I'm tied to a wheelchair, I can't get out..."

"Ma'am, please try to stay calm. Tell me your exact address!"

I had just managed to give the name of the apartment complex when the crystal chandelier above me came crashing down.

Bang!

Scalding shards of glass flew everywhere.

One of them grazed my face, leaving a charred, blood-filled blister.

The phone slipped from my hand and fell into the burning carpet.

The screen flashed twice, then went black.

My last hope was gone.

The wheelchair cushion caught fire.

Flames climbed up my side.

I tilted my head back and looked at the television on the wall.

Perhaps it was on a different circuit, because the TV was still on.

On the screen, New York's Metropolitan Arts Center blazed with light.

Vivian wore a pristine white swan costume. She walked into the spotlight and onto the stage, one step at a time.

Her makeup was flawless. Her smile was brilliant and blinding.

The host handed her the golden trophy.

"Miss Mercer, now that you've received this highest honor, who would you most like to thank?"

Vivian took the trophy and bowed deeply to the camera.

"I want to thank my parents, more than anyone."

The camera cut to the audience.

Dad wore a crisp suit. Mom wore an elegant dress she had chosen with care. Both had tears in their eyes as they applauded wildly.

Vivian's voice traveled through the television and into this inferno.

"Ten years of their care, down to the smallest detail, is what made me who I am today.

"Our family hasn't always been perfect, but it was because our family of three held each other up that I was able to stand on this stage.

"Dad, Mom, I love you!"

A family of three.

Without me.

At the most glorious moment of her life, she could not even bring herself to mention the sister who had lost a leg for her.

I looked at the three of them embracing on screen, and I laughed.

Tears and blood ran into my mouth, bitter and raw.

"Mom..."

I mouthed the word without a sound.

You were afraid I would fall, so you tied me to the wheelchair.

You were afraid I would cut myself, so you locked away every blade.

You always said it was for my own good.

But in the end, it was you who fed me into the furnace with your own hands.

The flames washed over my face.

Before I lost consciousness, I stared at Vivian's smiling face on the screen.

If there is a next life, I will never throw myself in front of that iron bar again.

My world went completely dark.