Chapter 3Brother, I Wish I’d Never Been Born

"I'm from eighteen years in the future," I told the boy on the screen.

His eyes lit up. He sat up straight, facing the camera—facing me.

"Eighteen years! Then my sister has been born by now! Is she doing okay? Are we close? I bet I spoil her like a princess! After all, I'm the best brother in the world." He puffed out his chest with absolute confidence.

"She's not doing well at all," I said flatly.

My whole body ached. The bruises from being thrown out were turning a deep, ugly purple. Even my organs hurt. And it was all thanks to the very same brother who had once sworn to protect me.

Owen faltered.

"Am I dead? Did I fail to take care of her? Oh, no… you're lying, aren't you!"

"You're alive and well. And you will be for a long time. Just… don't let your sister be born. She'll only suffer."

I said it quickly and shut the camera off, but not before I heard his desperate shout.

"Who are you? Why should I believe you? How could I possibly let my sister be unhappy? You must be lying to me!"

Five-year-old Owen would never believe he could be cruel to his sister.

Even I wouldn't have believed it.

My brother once promised to protect me.

How laughable.

The next day, I went to a pharmacy.

I emptied a pocketful of crumpled bills and loose change onto the counter to buy some painkillers.

"Miss, this isn't enough," the pharmacist said with a frown.

"Go on, now. Don't cause trouble."

"Please, sir," I begged, my voice cracking. "Can I just have a few pills? This is all the money I have. Just a few will do."

I was so desperate I was close to getting on my knees. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand knives stabbing me from the inside out, making every breath an agony.

"I can't just break open a bottle for you. There's nothing I can do, miss. Please leave, you're bothering my customers. It's bad enough having someone like you as my first sale of the day. You're a jinx."

He waved his hand at me dismissively, his face a mask of disgust. "Go on, get out of here."

"Give her a bottle. Keep the change."

A hand with long, elegant fingers placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

My first instinct was to run.

"Don't you want your medicine?" Owen's cool voice came from behind me. He dangled the bottle of painkillers in his hand. "After all, I'm the one who threw you on the ground. I suppose I should take some responsibility."

"If that's the case, you have a lifetime of things to take responsibility for," I said, looking at him. Only my eyes were visible, the rest of my face and body hidden. I didn't want him to see me like this, looking like I was at death's door.

Owen smirked.

"Still got that sharp tongue. Today is Ivy's birthday. The driver went to pick you up, but you weren't there. I never expected to run into you while I was out arranging her custom cake and party dress."

"Can't even scrape together a hundred dollars. Holly, you really are pathetic."

"Thrown out by my own brother, replaced by an adopted sister, bullied for years until my reputation is in tatters… I was already pathetic enough."

Words like that didn't even faze me anymore. I spoke of my short, tragic life as casually as if I were commenting on the weather.

A shadow crossed Owen's face.

"You failed our mother. You deserve everything you get."

I didn't answer. I twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers and poured a handful into my mouth, chewing them like candy.

Owen stared, a look of disgust on his face.

"Anyone watching would think you were about to die from the pain."

"You guessed right," I said, a miserable smile hidden behind my mask.

He grabbed my arm to pull me towards his car.

"You're coming to the party. Ivy said she wants you there, which means I have to bring you."

The moment his fingers closed around my wrist, he flinched.

"Are you starving yourself to death?"

"Losing weight."

"You'd be ugly either way," he sneered, before shoving me into the car.

The car sped away.