I “killed” my sister-in-law and made my brother hate me for six years. For those six years, the words I heard from him most often were, “Why don’t you just die?” He humiliated me every chance he got and even adopted a “sister” in front of me—someone he allowed to bully me relentlessly. That girl made me kneel on broken glass for pictures, forced me to drink nine bottles of vodka despite my advanced stomach cancer, and strip naked to dance for her birthday. I didn’t fight back. But on the final day of my life, I gifted my own death to my brother as a birthday present. Brother, this time, will you finally forgive me? “Nancy, are you out of your mind?!” The sound of my best friend Lily’s choked scream echoed through the hospital room. “You have three days left to live, and you’re telling me you’re still going to track down the people who killed your sister-in-law?! Are you insane?” She didn’t stop there—her face was red with fury. “Your brother? That coward? He had no right to blame you for what happened back then! None of this was your fault!” I ignored Lily’s anger and forced myself to sit up despite the stabbing pain in my stomach. A faint smile tugged at my lips as I replied hoarsely, “Don’t blame him. This was my fault from start to finish.” My brother had hated me for six years. Six years of burning resentment because I was the reason my sister-in-law, Charlotte, was dead. Charlotte had been my brother’s first love. They were inseparable—gentle, loving, and never once raising their voices at each other. She was warm, kind, and endlessly patient. Every time she saw me, she would bring me gifts, sit with me, help me with my homework, play games with me, or take me shopping for clothes. Her favorite thing to say to me was, “Our little Nancy is the best gift your brother ever gave me. She’s the best girl in the whole world.” And to me, Charlotte was the best sister-in-law anyone could ask for. But I killed her. It was my brother’s birthday, a cold and rainy night. Charlotte and I had gone out to buy him a LEGO set he’d been wanting for months. We wanted it to be a surprise, so I took her through a shortcut I often used—a dark alley I thought I knew like the back of my hand. The rest of the night is a blur. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, my brother standing over me with rage in his bloodshot eyes. He slapped me across the face—hard—twelve times. His voice was hoarse with grief and fury as he screamed, “Nancy, are you even human?! Why would you do this to her?!” “Charlotte loved you so much—why would you betray her like this?! You knew she was afraid of the dark!” That’s when I learned the truth. There had been twelve drunk men in that alley. When they saw us, they surrounded us like predators closing in on prey. Charlotte had stepped in front of me, shielding me with her body. She begged them to let me go. But those monsters didn’t care. They beat me unconscious and dragged her away. Charlotte endured horrors I can barely imagine. They assaulted her, then stabbed her 33 times. Her thigh bone was snapped in half, and the injuries to her body were so severe the doctors couldn’t even stitch her back together. I remember kneeling in the morgue, staring at her lifeless body, unable to move or think. I had killed her. My brother was never the same after that night. The man who once adored me now drowned himself in alcohol and avoided our home entirely. The words he used to say the most were: “Why aren’t you in hell yet, Nancy? If you died, Charlotte could finally rest in peace.” “Did you know? She didn’t even close her eyes when she died. She couldn’t rest because of you.” “Don’t you hear her crying at night? How do you have the audacity to still be alive?” He was right. If Charlotte hadn’t gone out with me that night, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t insisted on taking that shortcut, she’d still be alive. The guilt and shame consumed me. I spiraled into depression, but I didn’t dare end my life—not yet. I had to find the men who killed Charlotte. I had to bring them to justice. Only then could I face her. Two weeks ago, I finally got a lead. The private investigator I’d hired told me those twelve men had resurfaced in Bay City after committing other crimes. And two weeks ago, I was also diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. It felt like fate. This was my last chance to make things right—for Charlotte, for my brother, and for myself. I didn’t have much time left, but I didn’t need much. All I needed was to finish this. Then I could let go.
When I returned home, I found all my belongings thrown out onto the front lawn. I looked up to see Renee Grant smirking down at me from the porch. “This room’s mine now,” she said with practiced arrogance. “Take your junk and get lost.” I glanced at Renee. She was the girl my brother, Nathan, had taken in as a “little sister.” When Renee first came to live with us, she was shy and timid. But after seeing how Nathan constantly humiliated me, her attitude toward me shifted. I bent down, picking up my things, ready to move them to the storage room. But as I passed the trash can, something made me stop in my tracks. There, buried among the garbage, was my necklace. I frantically pulled it out, only to find that the pink gemstone in the center had been shattered. A buzzing sound filled my ears. Charlotte, my sister-in-law, had given me so many gifts when she was alive. But after her death, Nathan had taken them all away, saying I didn’t deserve to keep anything that reminded him of her. That necklace was the only thing I’d managed to hold on to. It was the last piece of Charlotte I had left. And now it was broken. I held the ruined necklace up, my anger boiling over as I turned to Renee. “Who gave you permission to touch my stuff?” I demanded, my voice shaking with fury. Renee rolled her eyes. “My brother said everything in this house is mine now. I can throw out whatever I want. What’s it to you?” “This necklace was a birthday gift from Charlotte!” I spat, emphasizing every word. Renee didn’t even flinch. Instead, she sneered, “So what? She’s dead. What’s the point of keeping it?” Before I could respond, she smirked and added, “And anyway, it’s only a matter of time before I’m more than just Nathan’s ‘sister.’ I’ll be the next Charlotte. Go ahead, call me—” She didn’t get to finish. I slapped her so hard she stumbled back, clutching her cheek. “Nancy!” Renee shrieked. “How dare you hit me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Nathan?!” Rage surged through me. How dare she insult Charlotte like that? But before I could raise my hand again, I was shoved back with such force that I slammed into the windowsill, knocking over a large vase. The vase shattered on impact, shards of glass cutting into my face and arms. I looked up, dazed, to see Nathan standing there, his face dark with fury. “Nancy,” he said coldly, “have you completely lost your mind? Now you’re bullying your family too?” I opened my mouth, my voice trembling. “Nathan, she was the one who—” “Brother, please don’t blame her!” Renee interrupted, tears streaming down her face as she played the victim. “I shouldn’t have assumed I could stay in Charlotte’s room. If Nancy doesn’t want me here, I’ll just leave.” She turned, pretending to walk away, but Nathan grabbed her arm and stopped her. “You’re my sister,” he said firmly. “No one has the right to make you leave.” A sharp pain shot through my chest. Before I could say anything, Nathan turned his icy glare on me. “Some people clearly don’t know how to behave,” he said. “If that’s the case, you can kneel here all night. Don’t get up until Renee feels better.” Renee’s tears disappeared in an instant. She smirked, triumphant, and said sweetly, “Well, if that’s what you say, Nathan, I guess I’ll listen.” The pain in my stomach grew sharper, but I said nothing. I knew there was no point in arguing. I lowered myself onto the glass-covered floor, feeling the shards dig into my knees. Blood began to seep through my jeans, but I kept my head down. Nathan snorted and walked upstairs without another word. Renee lingered for a moment, pulling out her phone to take pictures of me kneeling on the broken glass. After snapping a few shots, she stuck out her tongue and skipped up the stairs. The house soon fell silent. The cold seeped into my bones, and the stabbing pain in my stomach became unbearable. I reached for my painkillers but collapsed before I could inject myself. I was jolted awake by a splash of icy water. I opened my eyes to see Nathan standing over me, his expression full of disgust. “Cut the act,” he said sharply. “You didn’t look so pitiful when you killed Charlotte or bullied Renee.” He sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Today’s Renee’s birthday. I sent you the party details. Your job is to make sure she has a good time.” Before leaving, he added with a bitter laugh, “Don’t think acting all guilty will make me forgive you. You owe Charlotte too much, and you haven’t even started to pay it back.” As he walked away, I smiled bitterly and whispered to myself, “Soon, Nathan. Very soon, I’ll pay it all back.” There was only one day left.
I injected the last two doses of painkillers into my arm, each one barely dulling the searing ache in my stomach. After tidying myself up as best I could, I limped to the curb and hailed a cab. By the time I arrived at the bar, Renee’s birthday party was already in full swing. The room was packed with her friends—loud, laughing, and buzzing with energy. But what caught me off guard was seeing Nathan there, seated right in the middle of the group. Nathan—my brother. The same man who never once showed up to my birthday parties, claiming he had no interest in “wasting time with kids.” And yet, here he was, happily celebrating Renee’s birthday. The bitterness in my chest spread like poison. Renee spotted me from across the room and immediately put on her fake, saccharine smile. She hurried over, looping her arm through mine as though we were the closest of sisters. “There you are, sis! I’ve been waiting forever for you! My birthday wouldn’t be complete without you!” She dragged me to the center of the room, where everyone’s eyes were on us. “This is my sister,” Renee announced with mock affection. “She’s an amazing dancer. I’ve always been so jealous of her!” Her friends laughed, their faces full of mischief and malice. Something felt off. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, like I was walking straight into a trap. Sure enough, one of the guys in the group spoke up. “Since she’s such a great dancer, why doesn’t she perform for us? You know, as a birthday gift for you, Renee!” “Yeah!” a girl chimed in, her grin wicked. “How about something sexy? Like the kind of dances those girls at the clubs do?” I clenched the fabric of my shirt in my fists and turned to Nathan, silently begging him to intervene. But he didn’t even glance at me. His attention was entirely on Renee, his expression soft and indulgent. “Please, sis,” Renee pouted, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “It’s my birthday. Can’t you do this for me? Just this once?” Her eyes sparkled with malice that only I could see. Before I could respond, another voice chimed in. “Dancing is better with a little liquid courage!” Suddenly, nine bottles of vodka were slammed onto the table in front of me. One of the guys winked at me. “Drink up, pretty lady. We’re all friends here. Don’t be shy—this’ll make it more fun!” I froze, unsure of what to do. Renee’s expression turned solemn. She lowered her eyes, pretending to be hurt. “Maybe we should forget it,” she said softly, turning to Nathan. “I shouldn’t have asked. I forgot that my sister doesn’t really like me.” Nathan finally looked at me, his gaze cold and indifferent. “Nancy,” he said in a low, commanding voice, “did you forget what I told you to do?” The air seemed to leave my lungs. I swallowed hard, tightened my fists, and picked up the first bottle. The vodka burned like fire as it traveled down my throat, the sensation spreading through my chest and into my stomach. The painkillers I’d taken earlier seemed completely useless now, the alcohol amplifying the stabbing pain in my gut. But I didn’t stop. As Renee’s friends cheered and laughed, I drank bottle after bottle until all nine were empty. By the time I finished, my vision was blurry, and my legs felt like jelly. “Take it off! Take it off!” someone shouted, and the chant quickly spread through the group. Though I was drunk, the humiliation was sharp and clear. But Nathan didn’t say a word. He just sat there, watching as if none of this had anything to do with him. My chest ached, but not from the pain—it was something deeper, something hollow and cold. I staggered to my feet and began removing my clothes, piece by piece. Renee and her friends erupted in laughter and cheers as I stripped down to my underwear. One of the guys pulled out his phone and started recording, his face twisted in a cruel grin. Then, suddenly, the sound of a bottle shattering on the floor silenced the room. I blinked through my haze and saw Nathan standing, his expression one of pure disgust. “You’re pathetic,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You’ve ruined Renee’s birthday. Get out.” The words stung, but at the same time, I felt a strange sense of relief. I grabbed my clothes and stumbled out of the room, the vodka and pain in my stomach making every step heavier than the last. I wanted to stop somewhere—anywhere—to buy more painkillers, but my body gave out before I could. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Nathan was sitting in the chair beside me, his arms crossed and his face a mask of irritation. “Get up,” he said coldly. “You’re fine. Stop wasting my money lying here.” His tone was sharp, full of disdain. “You were drunk, not dying. Stop making it look like the end of the world—it’s pathetic.” My lips parted to speak, but the words caught in my throat. He didn’t even bother to get me checked out. To him, I was just an inconvenience. “Brother,” I said softly, my voice trembling with desperation. “What can I do to make you forgive me?” Nathan laughed bitterly, his eyes filled with cruelty. “Nancy,” he said, “how many times do I have to tell you? If you want my forgiveness, then just die.” With that, he stood and walked out of the room. I stared at his retreating back, my hands trembling as I whispered, “I’ll grant your wish, brother. Soon.” There was only one day left.
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