Around midnight, coughing until my chest burned, I pulled out the family photo.

My parents were smiling in it, hands linked with Vivian Sanford, the girl they mistook for their daughter and raised. I was off at the edge, like I never belonged.

The pain sharpened until I nearly blacked out. I texted my parents, but no reply came.

It hit me that even if I died, no one would claim the body.

Half‑delirious, I stumbled onto a shady website and put in a request to have my affairs handled after I died.

The response was instant. "Give me the address. Any preference for how you die?"

"No. I'll figure that part out myself," I said.

Just like that, I mistook a killer for a funeral worker, believing it was my last grasp at dignity.

I never imagined the killer would turn out to be the person I'd been longing for all along.

***

I was the daughter the Sanfords had been missing all those years, but that didn't guarantee me a place in their home.

Late‑stage cancer was tearing me apart, making even a trip for painkillers feel impossible.

My messages to my family went unanswered.

Now I realized that if I died here, no one would come.

Clinging to a fragile hope for dignity, I searched for a funeral service that might collect my body.

Instead, I found a website and clicked the "help to end it" button.

With the last of my strength, I typed, "Please see to everything once I'm dead."

Near dawn, a man called.

His voice was cold, flat. "Give me the address. You want photos when it's done?"

The pain blurred everything. "No. Just pick up some painkillers for me," I muttered without thinking.

He went quiet, then replied, "Alright."

Death never came without pain.

Soon, the doorbell rang. I forced myself up to open it, then collapsed back onto the sofa.

"Sit wherever you want. Once the painkillers kick in, I'll sign the contract."

The man lingered at the doorway. The room was dark, the air cold, the lights out.

The scene itself could freeze the blood.

He stepped inside and handed me the pills. "Here. Take them. I'll get this done soon."

I barely had the strength to look up. "Could you grab me some water?"

He hesitated, then fetched it, passing me the pills.

I swallowed them with effort, and the pain eased slightly.

After a moment, I tried to stand and find a pen, but knocked things off the table.

I flicked on the light and crouched to pick them up. "Sorry, I'll clean this up."

Still crouching, I asked, "Your funeral homes... they do touch‑ups, right?

"Make me look nice, please. I don't want a pale face. Add some blush, a bit of lipstick...

"And no mourning clothes. Can I wear my favorite dress and shoes instead?"

He looked surprised as he bent down to pick up a paper near his feet. "I won't let you die looking ugly."

I perked up. "Good. I want to be beautiful when I go."

It had been so long since anyone came. I found myself talking more than usual.

"Can you lay out more flowers? I'll pay extra. I won't need money anyway...

"And please, put the bunny in with me.

I pointed at the faded white plush rabbit on the cabinet.

He glanced over and froze, his eyes wide with astonishment.

Then I saw him clearly—dressed all in black, hat and mask concealing everything but his eyes.

When our eyes met, something strange and familiar stirred in me.

His eyes were wide, stunned, as if he'd seen something impossible.

"What's wrong? Did I freak you out?" I asked.

I knew I was gaunt, drained, probably frightening to look at.

"No... no." His eyes burned with something I couldn't name, and he quickly looked away.

He grabbed the rabbit and turned it over in his hands.

"It's gone just like I thought," he muttered.

"How did you know the tail was missing?" I asked, puzzled.

He just stared at it, silent and still.

With him here, I couldn't stop talking, knowing I had so little time left for words.

"A boy at the orphanage gave me this. I kept having nightmares, and even though it was his only toy, he let me keep it.

"My heart was weak back then, and he always looked after me. We swore we'd be family forever.

"And then..." The thought of Xavier Lockwood disappearing made my throat tighten.

The man tensed. "And then?"

"And then I got help from kind people and had heart surgery. But he never came back.

"All he left me was this toy..."

His body went rigid.

He suddenly turned away, fists clenched, lost in thought.

The mood darkened right away. I forced a smile. "Anyway, let's just sign the contract."

He stayed still, then asked, "You're Raelynn Sanford, right?"

I figured he was just confirming. "Yeah. That's me."

His grip tightened on the paper. "Do you even know what kind of order you put in?"

I tilted my head. "A full funeral service, all handled."

His breathing grew rough, anger slipping through.

I couldn't make sense of his reaction, so I reached for the pen. "Let's get on with it."

Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother, Camila Sanford.

For a moment, a flicker of joy rose in me. This was her first time calling.

I picked up, and her voice snapped through the phone. "What are you playing at? You sent those messages in the middle of the night, trying to piss me off?"

I tried to say "Mom", but her scolding cut it off.

Just as I opened my mouth to explain, my brother Julian Sanford cut in, his voice sharp with annoyance. "Yeah, that's exactly it! Or you're faking sick again, so we'll rush over in the middle of the night.

"We've felt guilty about you, and you just keep lying and using it. We're done!"

His shouting forced me to choke back the words.

Then my father, Hudson Sanford, said coldly, "It was our fault for losing you when you were little. But we gave you money and a place to live. That's enough. Stop making trouble.

"Look at Viv. She never acts like that. If she hadn't worried and asked us to call, we wouldn't have bothered."

Vivian's small voice came through. "Don't talk to her like that. What if she really is sick?"

"She lies and cheats for money nonstop.

"Don't defend her. Growing up in a place like that, what could she have learned? She's nothing compared to you," Camila snapped.

Their voices exploded through the empty house, leaving me silent.

I stopped trying.

They weren't going to hear me anyway.

Finally, Julian, reluctant but firm, reminded me, "Tomorrow's Viv's birthday party. You'd better show up and behave.

"Last time you ruined everything. This time, she forgave you first and asked us to invite you. If you mess up again, I'll disown you."

His words cut deep, leaving me struggling to answer.

The first year I returned to the Sanford family, they threw me a birthday party.

Halfway through, Vivian doubled over, clutching her stomach. My parents and brother rushed her to the hospital, staying there all night.

I sat alone with the cake until midnight, waiting, then finally fell asleep at the table.

When morning came and they returned, I ran forward with a bright smile. "Mom, can we blow out the candles now?"

Julian shoved me aside. "Viv's sick. Who cares about cake?"

He tossed the cake straight into the trash. "All you care about is cake. It's gone now."

I stared at the beautiful cake lying there. My stomach growled, as if mocking me.

Back at the orphanage and the village, cake was just a dream.

My nose stung, tears rising, but I gripped my clothes and forced them back.

Then came my second birthday at the Sanford's house.

Vivian leaned in and whispered, "They're mine, Dad, Mom, and Julian. You'll never take them from me."

She shoved the necklace Camila had given her into my hand, and before I could react, she tumbled down the stairs.

Camila and Julian screamed, rushing to her side. Hudson stormed up and slapped me so hard that my ears rang.

"Raelynn! What the hell is wrong with you? Didn't we buy you one already? Why did you have to steal hers?"

My face was burning, and I stayed silent.

Everything blurred except his twisted face, Camila screaming, and Julian pushing me.

By the third year, they said they were taking Vivian to summer camp. They gave me money and told me to buy whatever I wanted.

Vivian kindly invited me to her birthday, but something went wrong again.

The gift I gave her triggered an allergy. They called me wicked, said I'd done it on purpose.

Afraid I'd hurt her again, they left me here alone.

Apart from the monthly allowance, no one ever came.

Their words echoed in my mind, "We gave you money and a place to live. That's enough."

I muttered bitterly, "But mom, I'm human, not a stray animal you can feed and forget."

I ached for my parents' affection, brother's care, and the warmth of a real family.

The call ended with a sharp click. The dial tone droned on, leaving a sharp ache in my chest.

My nose stung, tears rising.

I clenched my fists, bit my lip hard, choking them back.

A tissue appeared beside me, offered by the man.

I didn't take it. After a moment, I looked up. "Thanks. I wasn't crying."

His eyes were red, and anger simmered inside him.

"They don't know you're sick, do they?" he asked suddenly.

Only then did I notice he was holding my late-stage cancer diagnosis.

Now that he'd seen it, I shrugged.

"No. Just keep it between us."

"Why don't you tell them?" He sounded a bit emotional.

I'd tried plenty of times, but none of them cared or believed me.

"You heard them just now," I went on. "That's the answer. There's no cure. Might as well stop wasting time."

He crushed the diagnosis in his fist, the veins in his neck bulging with anger.

"I can't take this job. Find someone else." With that, he turned to leave.

"Wait. Why? I can pay more," I called out.

I didn't think he'd walk away. Everyone loved money.

My family once told me the same, that I loved money too much and didn't deserve love.

"I don't work for the dying.

"If there's no cure, then eat good food, go places, live a little. That boy from the orphanage wouldn't want to see you like this.

"They gave you money, right? Spend it all," he said coldly with his back to me.

Maybe he had a point. But I still needed someone to collect my body.

"Can you wait a few days? I won't last. Come back once I'm gone."

His body stiffened, as if anger had seized him.

He slammed the door and left. Silence and cold settled over the place again.

I kept the order. On my deathbed, I'd leave his number. He'd come for the body.

The man had already taken my money, and he would do the work. He seemed reliable.

After all, he'd bought me painkillers.

With those, I made it through another day.

Not wanting to scare anyone with my appearance, I put on makeup and my wig before heading out to Vivian's birthday.

I paused outside the private room.

The door was ajar. The door was ajar. Inside, they gathered around her, laughing and talking.

I smoothed my skirt, forced a smile, and stepped in.

The laughter stopped at once.

Obviously, they hadn't expected me.

Since being thrown out, I hadn't been invited to anyone's birthday.

I walked up and handed Camila the gift. "It's for Vivian. Save it for when you're home."

Vivian blinked, surprised that the gift hadn't gone straight to her this time.

She lifted a glass of wine and held it out to me. "Rae, thanks for coming. Let's drink."

As I stared at it, my stomach knotted painfully.

The day I was diagnosed with cancer, I ran into Vivian at the hospital.

She walked up with a scornful look. "What are you doing here alone? Did you tell Mom and Dad? Or Julian?"

I gripped the test results, saying nothing. She tugged at me. "Raelynn, I'm talking to you. Didn't you hear me?"

"I didn't. I only understand human speech." I shook her off, but I was too weak and nearly fell.

The paper slipped from my hand.

Her temper flared. "Raelynn, stop pretending.

"They're not even here, and they don't care anyway."

I ignored her, reaching for the paper.

She lunged for it, but I threw myself over it first.

Even so, Vivian caught a glimpse. "A stomach scan? Raelynn, don't tell me it's cancer."

She said it loud, mocking, triumphant.

I clutched the paper tight, unable to force the truth out.

I knew no one would care, and I didn't need them to anymore.

No matter what illness I had over the past five years, they only saw it as me fishing for sympathy.

The home I once dreamed of no longer called to me.

Call me cowardly if you want. I was done fighting for it.

"Sorry to disappoint you. It's just a stomach problem." I held the paper close and walked away.

Now I stared at the wine, my stomach tightening with another pang.

I picked up a glass of juice instead. "I can't drink. This will do."

"That's fine. If you don't want to drink with me, I'll drink alone," she said, looking embarrassed.

She drained it in one go. I stayed still.

Hudson saw it, and his face darkened. "She's drinking because you're family. Don't be rude."

I looked at him, disappointed. "My stomach hurts."

Julian stood up, his face cold. "Still faking sick for our pity? Viv's frail, but she drank."

Camila shoved the wine toward me. "Drink it, or you're not my kid anymore."

"Look, upset Viv again today, and I'll cut you off," Julian warned.

I stared at the glass of wine for a long time, then laughed.

Back at the village, even when they punished me severely for trying to escape, I never gave up on the thought of going home.

But now, with the family I'd longed for right in front of me, all I felt was disappointment.

My heart felt ripped out, leaving an ache that hollowed me inside.

What was I feeling?

I felt cold and empty, with a pain that seemed to numb everything.

Then I poured myself three glasses of wine.

"First, to Mom and Dad, for giving me life.

"Second, to Julian, for once recognizing me.

"The last one is for today. I'm done with all of you."

I drained the wine. My stomach churned, and pain ripped through me.

I dug my nails into my palm, bracing myself to leave.

Before I could move, blood burst from my throat, splattering across the floor, staining Vivian's dress.

Camila rushed to shield her. "What the hell are you doing? We told you to drink, and now you pull this stunt?

"Viv's dress was custom‑made. You ruined it. You came here to cause trouble, didn't you?"

I clamped a hand over my mouth, desperate to swallow the rest of the blood.

But it kept pouring through my fingers, dripping in a steady stream.

"Raelynn!" Hudson snapped. "Look what you did. You ruined her birthday again.

"I told them not to invite you. Bad things happen when you're here. You're a curse."

They scrambled to pull Vivian away, keeping their distance from me.

Julian shoved me hard. "Go. You're not my sister. You said you were done, so stay away.

"Don't ever come back."

His push sent me stumbling backward. Behind me was a pane of decorative glass.

I knew exactly what would happen if I hit it, but my body wouldn't obey.

The pain in my stomach drowned out their voices.

My vision blurred, my body felt lighter.

They didn't have to worry.

I'd stay away and never show up at another birthday party.

No one could tell me how much it would hurt when I hit the glass.

I just felt bad that they would have to deal with my body if I died right there.

Where was Xavier? I'd been missing him so much.

Suddenly, a man rushed forward and caught me. I had no idea who he was.

Instead of crashing into the glass, I fell into his arms.

He scooped me up and bolted for the door. Hudson shouted after him, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The man turned his head, staring at them for a few seconds without a word.

Malice burned in his eyes. No one dared meet his gaze.

The room went silent.

After a moment, he moved again, still carrying me.

"Stop! Who told you to take my daughter?" Hudson lunged forward, trying to pull me from his arms.

The man's fists were already clenched. "Move."

"She's my daughter. Let go of her," Hudson barked.

"Your daughter? Some father you are," the man shot back.

Camila's anger flared at his words. "What the hell are you talking about? You don't get to judge us!"

His roar shook the room. "She's coughing up blood, and none of you care. All you care about is a dress."

He thought that would make them see I was sick. But no one believed it.

Julian stood up and sneered, "You hired him, didn't you? How much fake blood did you drink to pull this off?"

He came at me and continued, "Raelynn, you never change. Every time you show up, you stir up trouble. Stop pretending now.

"You ruined Viv's birthday. Apologize right now, or none of us will forgive you."

Julian reached for me, but before he could touch me, the man kicked him back.

"You should be the ones apologizing, not her." His grip on me tightened.

Vivian spoke quickly. "Rae, I know you don't like me, but this is going too far.

"I invited you because I was trying to be nice. I thought we could finally get along now that we're grown."

"Shut up," the man snapped. "Say one more word and you'll regret it."

Camila stepped forward, still furious. "Raelynn stays. She apologizes today, or she's out of this family."

Even through the haze, I caught every word.

People said a child could never repay what parents gave them. But after everything, I owed them nothing.

I forced my eyes open and looked at the man. "Take me away."

"Yeah. Let's go," he said.

He kicked Hudson and Julian aside, overturning the table in the process.

Soup splashed across Vivian's white dress.

I had always been frail and cold.

Back in the village, the woman who raised me called me worthless.

She'd taken me just because she couldn't afford a boy.

Since I came cheap, she never thought I deserved anything.

I grew up half-starved and dressed in hand-me-downs.

Hunger and cold were nothing new, but they never broke me.

I believed I'd always find my way home.

Later, their whole family was buried in a mine collapse, and I was sent to the orphanage.

There I met Xavier, and he was older than me.

We often sat by the gate, staring at the doors, hoping our parents would come.

We promised that if they didn't, we'd be each other's family.

I had heart issues. My birth parents never showed up, and no one wanted to adopt me.

Xavier gave me his rabbit toy. "If I'm not around, let it stay with you. Then you won't be alone."

I held it to my chest. "You feel like a big brother to me."

He patted my head, smiling. "Then you're my little sister, okay?"

Then he disappeared. No goodbye, no explanation.

Later, kind people funded my surgery, and my birth parents came to claim me.

I thought being back with them would mean warmth and everything I had ever dreamed of.

Yet somehow it felt colder.

The air was damp, the darkness suffocating.

I felt myself drowning in that black lake until a pair of hands dragged me back up.

The embrace was steady and warm. Then a voice came from above, "Hold on. We're almost at the hospital."

For the first time, I felt warmth in the arms of a stranger who somehow seemed familiar.

I was feeling drowsy.

Maybe if I drifted off, the pain would fade.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt anymore.