Robert perked up. "Oh, her right leg bone is missing. It might have scars or surgery marks that could help you trace her down. Her face got burned with acid. Fixing it will take time."

He sighed, peeling off his gloves. Next to him sat my bloody toy, but he failed to recognize his gift to me for protection.

After wrapping up his work, he checked his phone and got pissed off by what he saw.

He called Susan immediately.

"Did you see Emily's call? That liar is at it again, spouting junk to get under our skin," he huffed. "She still doesn't get it. If she hadn't forced James to come back, Rain Mire wouldn't have gotten him. Now she's saying she's being followed."

I wasn't lying. I was dead.

I'd never lie about such things to mess with them. I was desperate when I sent that SOS.

Unfortunately, neither of them had taken it seriously.

I heard Susan on the phone, just as pissed.

"I saw her message and ignored it," she said. "She's just dodging her duty. That kid doesn't give a damn about making things right."

I covered my ears, crushed by their rant.

Just as I thought they'd never know I was dead, my best friend, Sarah Johnson, stormed into the station. She said I'd been missing for two days.

A police officer went to take her report, but Robert stopped them. "No need. I'm Emily Miller's dad. She's not missing, just pulling this crap to guilt-trip me and her mom."

The police officer glanced at Sarah, stuck. He knew Robert's rank and backed off.

Sarah stumbled out with tears in her eyes. I wanted to chase after her, only to find my ghost was trapped there. I couldn't leave Robert's side.

He handled my skull and headed home.

Dinner was the usual: grilled salmon, spicy crab, and buttered shrimp. Susan remembered James's favorites but never cared I was allergic to seafood.

Once, Robert asked why I wasn't eating. I thought he finally gave a damn.

I gripped my fork and mumbled, "I'm allergic to seafood."

Susan slammed her fork down. "What did I do to deserve an ungrateful brat like you? I slave over this meal, and you act like I've sinned?"

I looked at Robert, my childhood hero who would shield me whenever Susan got mad. This time, he just plopped a chunk of crab on my plate.

"Eat up. Don't tick off your mom," he muttered.

Their stares pinned me down. I had to choke down the crab.

Later that night, my throat swelled up. I could barely breathe.

My eyes puffed up. My skin itched and burned. My voice was shot.

"Help..." I stumbled to the door, but it wouldn't open.

Panic hit me. I banged on it, croaking, "Help! Dad, Mom! Save me!"

Susan's voice came from the living room. She said, "It's just allergies. She won't die. Good thing we locked the door. Her tricks are annoying. James came to me in a dream last night, saying he wanted the new PlayStation. Let's go before the mall closes."

I begged them not to leave me. That would kill me.

What answered me was the door slamming shut. They ditched me.

I was devastated and resigned to fate. Maybe it wouldn't hurt that much if I died.

I curled up in a corner, waiting for the final moment. I didn't know how long it had passed when laughter came from downstairs.

"You silly goose, you know you're allergic to peanuts. You almost bought it."

"I couldn't help it. Please don't tell Mom."

"She already knows. She twisted her back, making all your favorite foods. It's fine. Parents don't hold grudges."

I felt like a sewer rat, sneaking peeks at the happiness I never had. I was ashamed but had nowhere to hide.

I wanted Robert and Susan to love me, to care about my allergies, to cook my favorites, and to nag me with love. But I was just the rotten kid who killed James.

I didn't deserve it. Still, I didn't want to die.

I didn't die that day.

At the last second, I jumped out the window. Someone took me to the hospital in time.

The doctor said I was lucky. Any later, and I'd be a goner.

A lady on the next bed peeled an orange for her daughter and said to me, "Good thing you're fine, or your parents would've been worried sick."

I envied how she fed her kid piece by piece. The reflection in the glass showed me all alone.

I laughed, telling myself and everyone, "Yeah, they love me."

Then the door flew open. Robert and Susan rushed in.

I struggled to sit up, my tears falling. "Dad, Mom."

I almost died. I was so scared and longing for their comfort. A hug would be enough.

Instead, Susan grabbed my collar, yanked me off the bed, and threw me to the floor. The IV ripped out, and blood spurted.

"You witch!" She kicked me. "Faking allergies and jumping out windows to make us look bad, huh? Why didn't you just die?"

I curled up, hugging my head. I never meant that. I just wanted to stay alive.

I gambled on a three-story drop and won. But I lost the bet on their hate.

The glass reflected Robert leaning on the wall, watching Susan claw at me.

The lady on the next bed hugged her scared kid, cooing softly. People at the door stared at me with disgust, like I was a nasty brat.

The tiny hope I'd built that they loved me shattered.

It was all a lie. My parents didn't love me at all. They never did.

After that, they cut off my allowance. I had to board at school where I ate cheap food from the cafeteria and slept in a 16-person dorm with a thin blanket on a straw mat.

Scholarships covered my living expenses. But when I hit middle school and then high school, costs climbed. I studied day and night, chasing every extra point to survive.

I thought being a model student might make them love me again. But when I brought home a near-perfect test, only relatives praised me.

Susan just shot it down. "She's dumb as a rock. Not half as smart as James. No way she earned this."

She slapped me hard. "Why did you cheat?"

My face stung, but my heart hurt worse. For a moment, I just wanted to vanish.

Later, my teacher called to confirm my score. Susan just glanced at the shredded test in the trash and sneered, "This little score's nothing to brag about. James aced everything. You're such a letdown. Don't you feel ashamed?"

My heart was ashes. They wanted a genius like James. So, I tried to erase myself and become him.

I studied harder. Rashes, frostbite, and mosquito bites came and went.

When I walked out of my college entrance exam, I was ready to prove I was as good as James. Maybe they'd love me then.

But I died before the scores came out. I never got to be the brilliant kid they'd love.

I watched them pile food into James's empty bowl, silently serving him like he was still there. That had been going on for eight years.

I was the one who turned them into this. I deserved to die.

A knock came at the door, and a familiar voice called out, "Mom, Dad, open up. I've come back."

Robert lost his cool and knocked over a bowl as he stood. Susan, always a whirlwind, sank into her chair. Tears streamed down her face.

"James? Is it really him?" she muttered.

Robert shuffled to the door, his hands trembling as he turned the knob. The door swung open, revealing a tall man outside.

It was none other than James who had been dead for eight years.