When I was eight years old, my mother lost her life protecting me. My father hated me to the bone. He shipped me off to my uncle’s house, where I stayed for ten miserable years. He only brought me back because his adopted daughter said she felt “lonely.” But the very first thing he said to me when I walked through the door was: “You murderer. You killed your mother. How do you even have the nerve to still be alive?” To fulfill his wishes, I died in a car crash on the exact day I received my college acceptance letter. A bystander grabbed my phone from the asphalt and frantically dialed his number, only to be met with his raging voice: “If you want to die, Chloe, go die somewhere far away! Don’t do it here and eyesore your mother!” … I was floating in mid-air, watching a crowd of people gather around my lifeless body. For a moment, I couldn’t really process what was happening. Until someone picked up my phone—its screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks—and dialed my dad’s number. “Hello? Is this the father of the phone’s owner? Your daughter has been in a terrible car accident, she’s at—” Before the man could even finish, my father’s furious voice cut him off: “A car accident? Is she dead yet?” “Chloe, if you want to die, go die somewhere far away! Don’t do it here and eyesore your mother’s memory!” “You made Daisy fall and break her leg, and now you’re faking a car crash to get sympathy? How can you be so shameless!” After that harsh, venomous roar, a faint, sweet voice drifted through the line: “What’s wrong, Daddy?” My father, who had sounded like a raging beast a second ago, instantly softened his tone to pure warmth: “Nothing, sweetie. Just a scam call…” The call disconnected with a mechanical beep. The stranger who tried to help stood there, stunned by the hostility. He muttered to himself: “Is that guy seriously her real dad?” He tried to redial, but the screen showed he had already been blocked. With a sigh, he decided to try the only other contact saved in my phone book. He tapped on it. “Hello? Is this Chloe’s high school advisor? She’s been in a car crash…” I had long grown used to my father’s hatred. His cruel words didn’t even cause a ripple in my heart anymore. When I was eight, my mom took me on a road trip. Our car was caught in a sudden, violent flash flood. She threw her entire body over mine, shielding me from the worst of the impact and the rushing debris. But she never made it off the operating table. My father and mother had been deeply in love for years. He couldn’t accept that his beloved wife was gone forever. So, he abandoned me at Uncle Jack’s house. He told me: “Every time I look at your face, I see your mother covered in blood, taking her last breath. You are a curse!” During my ten years at Uncle Jack’s, my father never sent a single letter or made a single call. I only heard through the grapevine that he had adopted a girl who had lost her parents in a natural disaster. Uncle Jack told me she was sickly, constantly needing shots and medication. My father had spent almost all his savings to cure her. The two of them lived together, relying only on each other. The kind stranger tapped my phone screen a few more times, but the device finally died. My phone didn’t have a passcode. Seeing strangers easily access my private life made me feel a surge of helpless anxiety, but there was nothing I could do. Fortunately, the ambulance arrived, and the man stopped messing with my phone. The paramedics in white scrubs lifted my broken body into the ambulance, rushing toward the hospital with sirens blaring. They hooked me up to all kinds of tubes. The advanced machines did their job, beep-beeping to report my vital signs. But it was useless. My soul was already floating outside. What medical miracle could possibly drag me back now? “The patient has absolutely no will to survive…” The doctor muttered under his breath. He watched as my shallow breathing slowly stopped. The monitor emitted a sharp, continuous flatline shriek. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the white sheet over my face. His eyes held a deep sadness for a young life cut short. Outside the operating room, the hallway was completely empty. The doctor frowned deeply. “Where is the family? It’s been hours. Why aren’t they here yet?” ### 2 Of course, my father was busy celebrating Daisy’s eighteenth birthday. After bringing her back from the disaster zone, he gave her a new name. Daisy. Bright, blooming, and full of hope. He placed all his hopes on her, completely throwing me—the useless, dirty weed in the gutter—to the back of his mind. “Happy birthday, Daisy! I wish you health and happiness forever!” My father lovingly presented a strawberry chocolate cake to her. On top of the frosting was a cute little piped bear. He rubbed his hands together nervously. “This is the first time I’ve ever baked a cake, sweetie. I don’t have much experience. If you don’t like it, just tell me…” Before he could finish, Daisy had already snapped a picture for Instagram and cut a huge slice. “Wow, Daddy, you’re amazing! It tastes so good, I can’t believe it’s your first time!” She smiled warmly, though there was a lingering paleness in her face from her chronic illness. My father turned around secretly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. I floated in the air like a ghost, a thief peeking at someone else’s happiness through the crack of the door. My own eighteenth birthday was spent at Uncle Jack’s house. It was a weekend. His family of three was planning a trip to an amusement park. “You’ve been studying hard all week, Chloe. You should stay home and get some rest!” Aunt Sarah smiled warmly as she listened to my cousin Leo’s excited cheers. But the moment she turned to me, her face grew cold. “There’s no room in the car. Just stay home and watch the house.” They left early in the morning. The stove was cold; they hadn’t left a single bite of food for me. The fridge was packed, but I didn’t dare touch anything. If Aunt Sarah noticed even a slice of cheese missing, she would mock and scold me for days. Uncle Jack was caught in the middle. Occasionally, he would secretly slip me a ten-dollar bill so I could buy a cheap burger to tide me over. Living under someone else’s roof, I didn’t want to cause any trouble. I waited, starving, until late at night when they finally returned. Leo had a blast and was loudly bragging about his day. He walked over to the end of the attic hallway—where my makeshift bed was set up behind a cheap room divider—and tossed a half-crushed cake box onto my blanket. “Brought this back for you. Don’t go telling people we starve you!” In the dead of night, in the pitch black, I carefully opened that cardboard box. It was a strawberry chocolate cake. A huge, messy bite mark was clearly visible on the side. The chocolate frosting had melted in the summer heat. I dipped my fingertip into it and put it in my mouth. It was so sweet it made me want to cry. But I still ate every single crumb, because I didn’t know when my next real meal would be. Later, because Daisy casually mentioned she felt “lonely,” my father finally brought me back to his house. But he absolutely loathed my posture—how I always kept my head down, looking timid and terrified. “You murderer. You killed your mother. How do you even have the nerve to still be alive?” I knew then that this place would never be my home either. So, I tried my best to be invisible and obedient. I never left my room unless absolutely necessary. I did the laundry, cooked, swept the floors, and washed the dishes. I did everything perfectly. But that strawberry chocolate cake with the bite mark was forever burned into my memory. I craved it. One day, my father came home from work with a pastry box. He spoke to me with a rare, gentle tone: “Here. The cake you wanted.” My hands shook as I opened it. Could dreams really come true? Was I allowed to be this happy? The cake looked messy, not like something bought from a professional bakery. I took a bite. It tasted slightly burnt. But since he had gone out of his way to get it for me after a long day of work, I ate it happily. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Dad!” Suddenly, he burst into a cruel, mocking laughter. “That’s just the garbage Daisy made when she was practicing baking! I thought you hated your sister? Yet you gobbled up her ruined cake like a dog.” “You really are an idiot. So easy to fool!” My fork clattered to the floor. I knelt down to pick it up. Tears dripped from my chin onto the hardwood. It took me a long time to stand back up. “Oh. I see.” So, he hadn’t bought it for me after work. I had been tricked again. I was so incredibly easy to fool. Now, floating in the air, watching them laugh and sing the birthday song, I suddenly realized something. I had never actually wanted that strawberry chocolate cake. I just wanted what came with it. I wanted to have someone by my side on my birthday. I wanted the song, the blessings, the love. All I ever got was a melted, half-eaten leftover. My younger self had envied other kids’ big cakes. But what I really envied was how effortlessly they were loved. I wanted the cake because, to me, it was proof of being loved. But now I saw the truth. Leo didn’t have a cake because he was loved; he had a cake *because* he was loved. I had gotten the cause and effect all wrong. I was just too stupid. Too easy to fool. ### 3 Daisy blew out her candles, ate her cake, and then looked around the room. “Daddy, where’s Chloe? I want her to celebrate with me.” The familiar look of disgust immediately crept back onto my father’s face. “She’s just jealous of your birthday. She actually got someone to call me and claim she was in a car accident, hoping I’d leave you to go find her.” “She is so petty and selfish. Even on your eighteenth birthday, she has to cause drama. What a parasite!” But Daisy kept her sweet, angelic facade. She gently patted his arm to calm him down. “Dad, you should call her back and check. Chloe isn’t that kind of person.” My father glared at her, and for a second, I thought he might snap at her too. But Daisy just smiled sweetly and said: “Besides, I really want to see her college acceptance letter. You know how weak my body is, Dad… I’ll probably never get to go to college in this lifetime…” “Fine, fine. I’ll call her. I’ll call her right now!” My father waved his hand dismissively, giving in. Daisy smirked. She knew exactly which buttons to push to make him do what she wanted. *Ring… Ring…* The phone rang until it went to voicemail. Impatient irritation flared on my father’s face. But seeing Daisy’s hopeful eyes, he lowered his pride and dialed my number a second time. In this moment, I actually felt a wave of relief that I was dead. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to handle the agonizing pain of finally getting my college acceptance letter, only to have it snatched away. Ever since I returned to this house, the person I feared most wasn’t my father, but this stepsister I had never met before. Her weak body was her ultimate weapon. With an innocent, angelic face, she could effortlessly trigger my father’s explosive rage against me. “Chloe, I don’t want to steal Daddy’s love from you. I just admire you guys so much… I only need a tiny, tiny piece of his heart…” She would tear up, pinching her fingers together to show a tiny gap. And every single time she did that, my father would blow a fuse. “Who do you think you are, trying to steal things from Daisy?” “You jinx! If Daisy hadn’t begged me to bring you back, I would have happily let you rot in the streets!” “How dare you resent her? You should be kneeling at her feet in gratitude!” What followed would always be my father’s heavy slaps, or being locked in my room without food for days. The worst incident was when Daisy stood at the top of the stairs, smiling down at me. “Chloe, I really envy you.” “Even though you killed your mother and Dad hates you so much, he still plans to leave Elena’s old house to you in his will.” “Why do you get all the luck? Why does everyone look out for you, while the people who loved me are already rotting in the dirt?” “I’m sorry, Chloe. But I don’t want you to have a single thing.” With a sweet smile still on her face, Daisy threw herself backward down the stairs just as my father’s panicked footsteps echoed in the hallway. “Daddy… it hurts so much… am I going to die?” I remembered watching her cry in his arms, still managing to shoot me a triumphant, mocking smirk over his shoulder. When I lived with Uncle Jack, Aunt Sarah was cold, but she never laid a hand on me. She certainly never used such insane, self-harming tactics to ruin my life. After that day, my father’s abuse grew ten times worse. *Just get into college,* I used to tell myself. *Once I leave this house, I’ll be free.* But looking at things now, she never had any intention of letting me keep my college acceptance letter. If I hadn’t died in that crash today, what would have happened to me? Would I have had to stand by and watch her steal the fruits of my years of hard work, suffering in silence? Or would I have fought back? But did I ever really have the power to fight back? ### 4 The consecutive unanswered calls finally pushed my father over the edge. He was about to start cursing at his phone when the local news broadcast on the TV caught his eye. “We are reporting live from a horrific car accident downtown. A drunk driver has caused a fatal collision…” “The victim is a local high school senior who had just received her college acceptance letter. It is a heartbreaking tragedy…” “We urge all citizens, please, do not drink and drive…” My father’s eyes locked onto the screen. I followed his gaze. The mangled, bloody body on the asphalt was pixelated, but the cheap silver bracelet on the wrist was glaringly obvious. His face turned deathly pale. As if trying to convince himself, he kept whispering: “No… that’s impossible…” “It’s a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence!” He desperately clung to this excuse, like a drowning man clutching a piece of straw. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” Daisy’s confused voice came from behind him. “Nothing!” He forced a stiff smile. “I can’t get ahold of Chloe. Let’s not wait for her.” “Oh, okay…” Daisy pouted, looking slightly annoyed. For the first time in his life, my father didn’t notice her mood. He silently powered down his phone, as if he were running away from a ghost. I was confused. I was dead. Shouldn’t this be a dream come true for him? Why did he look like he was about to vomit from terror? Suddenly, a violent pounding erupted at the front door. My father stiffened. He stood there, frozen, refusing to move. The knocking grew louder and more frantic, turning into heavy thuds that shook the doorframe. Only then did he drag his feet over and open it. When he saw my high school advisor, Ms. Jenkins, standing on the porch, he visibly let out a sigh of relief. His tone instantly turned sharp and dismissive: “What is it? Chloe already graduated. Did she cause some trouble at school again?” “I’m busy celebrating my daughter’s transition into adulthood. I don’t have time to clean up Chloe’s messes.” Ms. Jenkins was a young woman, and his words made her shake with sheer rage. Tears welled in her eyes as she trembled. She slammed the hospital’s body identification form directly onto his chest. “Chloe is dead! And you’re here throwing a party? Are you even a human being?!” My father stiffened his neck, ignoring the paper that fluttered from his chest to the floor. “What nonsense are you talking about? Evil weeds don’t die that easily. How could she be dead?” “For the sake of the inheritance, she pushed her sister down the stairs and broke her leg. Now she’s faking her own death? Unbelievable. Has anyone told her that this trick only works once? Doing it again is just disgusting.” “Oh, I get it. She hired you to put on this show, didn’t she? To ruin Daisy’s birthday, she’ll really stop at nothing. Is this what your school teaches kids these days?” Ms. Jenkins had clearly never encountered such a shameless monster. Her finger shook as she pointed at him. “You…” “If that’s all, I’m closing the door. I don’t have time for her cheap theater.” Just as the door was about to slam shut, another voice cut through the air: “Is this the residence of Richard?” Two uniformed police officers stepped forward, blocking the door. “Yes. Can I help you?” They pulled out their badges. “Your daughter, Chloe, was involved in a fatal car accident today. She was pronounced dead at the hospital after emergency resuscitation failed. We are here to notify the family to identify the body.” My father let out a cynical chuckle. “Wow, Chloe really went all out. How much is she paying you guys to play along? I’ll double it. Now get the hell off my property!” The female officer’s expression immediately hardened. “Sir, watch your mouth.” She shoved her badge right in front of his face. “Look closely. We are real police officers.” “We are here to officially notify Chloe’s next of kin of her death. This is not a joke, and we were not hired by anyone!” This time, he couldn’t deny it. The badges, the uniforms, the police cruiser parked on the curb—they were all real. It finally sank in. Chloe didn’t have the money or the power to hire real police officers for a prank. Which meant… there was only one truth. My father’s face drained of all color, turning a sickly gray. He still muttered like a lunatic: “No… that can’t be… she’s lying to me…”
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