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By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 627    |    Released on: Today at 11:39

ra

amily's faces, seeking to mem

y cheek, calling me

over, she would cook my favorite meals

ce and remembered the grueling sacri

ry single injection, her grip a c

ight, and a sour bile would rise in my throat, summoning the memory

ugs left a constant, gna

pain for two years, never

ed smile, comforting them

g that left me gasping for air ov

into my cupped hands, terrifi

my mother used to brush every

aldness beneath a

evere insomnia an

to muffle my whimpers, desperate not to w

y own body

ibrant ballet dancer i

ion bl

sted into unrecognizable shapes,

friends at school because I was

ho was currently cho

brutal round of chemo had broken

m if I would e

op the treatments becau

ng and repeating the lie tha

mafia Capo-had red eyes and a trembling vo

cheap hair clips an

ip to my hair, he realize

he pinned the clip

er in the world and begged

ken turns c

s, wiped my sweating body, and o

away themselves from t

er, crying and beggi

ot being strong enoug

, apologizing in return, claiming

r words were born o

d they were born of twis

g because they were

doubt they

knew, that love was

t cramp ripped t

ating through my

reading-slowly, deliberately, the way their li

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By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead
By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead
“For two years, I endured agonizing chemo for my leukemia, believing my struggling family was sacrificing everything to save me. But right before my surgery, I overheard my brother and mother whispering outside the door. I didn't have cancer. My family, who were actually billionaires in the Syndicate, had been secretly poisoning me. They needed me weak and dying so my betrothal to the supreme Don could be transferred to their newly found biological daughter. "Once the betrothal is transferred, I will find the best specialists to cure Clara," my brother said coldly. But they didn't know I had already made my choice. Thinking my treatments were starving them, I had just swallowed a vial of lethal, untraceable poison in the bathroom. I died in excruciating agony on the operating table before they even made the first cut. When the surgeon announced I had committed suicide, my family's world completely shattered. My brother found my blood-stained suicide note and the meager cash I had saved to buy them gifts. "We murdered our own daughter," my father sobbed. My mother went completely insane, clutching my rotting corpse, while my brother slit his own wrists in a desperate attempt to feel my pain. They kneeled before my grave, weeping and begging the heavens to let them protect me in the next life. Floating above them as a ghost, I watched their absolute despair with a numb heart. I harbored no hatred, but I knew one thing for certain. In the next life, we will be nothing but strangers.”