Chapter 2

The call ended.

I waited for Elijah to ring again, but the phone stayed dark. Maybe he'd decided I was unstable. Maybe he was calling the police. Maybe he was wandering around our complex, where all six buildings looked exactly alike.

I couldn't leave my burial to chance.

I wrapped fresh gauze around my wrists, not to save myself, only to slow the bleeding long enough to find someone else. My hands shook so badly that the first strip fell into the sink. I used my teeth to pull the second one tight.

Then I opened my contacts.

Ninety-three names.

Most belonged to coworkers, delivery drivers, and neighbors from the building's group chat, people I'd once split a Costco run with. None of them knew where I kept my spare key. None knew I had cancer. I couldn't ask the woman I'd split paper towels with to identify my body.

I opened Instagram instead.

My twin sister Chloe's newest post filled the screen. She stood in front of a wall of cream and gold balloons, wearing a pale-blue dress.

Our mother, Evelyn, had one arm around her. My brothers – Nathan, Owen, and Caleb – crowded close on the other side.

The cake had three tiers. Wrapped gifts covered half the table.

Everyone was smiling.

The caption read: Best birthday yet. My family never lets me forget how loved I am.

Chloe and I were twins, born eleven minutes apart.

My parents only brought up the twin thing when it made a cute photo, but only one birthday had ever mattered in our house. Chloe got fireworks, parties, and a new dress every year. I got told not to make things awkward.

That was why I'd chosen today.

If I vanished on an ordinary Tuesday, they might claim they hadn't noticed. If I died on our birthday, at least the date would make the truth difficult to forget.

I didn't like the post. I didn't leave a comment. I was tired of standing outside a life that was supposed to include me.

I opened the Bennett family group chat.

Claire: If anyone sees this, please come to Linden Court, Building C, Apartment 304, and collect my body.

The message showed as read by six people.

No one answered.

Then Dad left the chat.

Mom left next.

They left so fast they had to be sitting together, agreeing that silence would teach me a lesson.

I typed again.

Claire: I'm begging you. Please answer.

Caleb replied first.

Caleb: Seriously? Not tonight, Claire.

Chloe: Claire, I know it's your birthday too, and I'm sorry. Please don't do this. I'll get everyone to go look for you.

Owen: Don't answer her. If she wants to die, that's her choice.

I read them twice. Part of me still waited for the words to turn into something a brother would say.

My phone rang. Nathan.

I answered.

"Take those messages down. Now," he said before I could speak. Music and laughter carried behind his voice. "Chloe saw them. She won't even cut her cake now, she's so worried about you."

I looked at the blood seeping through the gauze. "She doesn't have to worry long."

"There you go again. It's her birthday. Why does everything have to become about you?"

"It's my birthday too."

"Then act like an adult for once. Delete the messages, apologize to Chloe, and stop ruining everyone's night."

I could have told him about the medical report taped to my refrigerator. I could have said the word terminal.

But I knew that tone. He had used it on me for eight years, and the truth would just become one more lie to him.

"Okay," I said. "I'll delete them."

He hung up.

I began removing my messages one at a time. Before I finished, Nathan, Owen, and Caleb left the chat. Chloe remained.

She sent six photographs of her presents.

Chloe: Want any of these? I got way too many. You're not too proud to take them, are you? What's mine is yours. That's what family does.

The diamond bracelet in the first picture had been on my wish list when I was sixteen. Mom had called it wasteful. Chloe wore it now while offering me the box.

Years ago, I would have accused her of doing it on purpose. She would have cried. Mom would have said my jealousy proved I hadn't changed.

Tonight, I had no energy left for the ritual.

I deleted the chat.

The apartment was quiet after the music from Nathan's call disappeared. I slid down the bathroom wall and held my knees. In the mirror, my face looked pale and unfamiliar.

I had spent my whole life trying to earn my way back into that family.

At twenty-two, bleeding on a bathroom floor while they celebrated my sister, I finally understood there was no way back.

I didn't have a home.