"What the heck are you doing!"

I let out a shriek and lunged, knocking the pâté straight into the trash.

With eyes red and raw, I demanded, "Have you been dreaming about my dad again?

"How many times have I told you not to listen to him?"

Chester looked like he was struck by lightning, then his face crumpled into a mix of confusion and fear.

"Babe, don't freak out! I didn't dream about your dad, I just got a sudden craving, that's all.

"What's the big deal with liver pâté? Why are you freaking out so much?"

All the fear and grief I was bottling up came crashing down, and I just lost it, sobbing uncontrollably.

Finally, I spilled the beans about the dream where my dad asked my mom for steak.

Chester wrapped his arms around me, whispering words of comfort.

"You're just stressed, that's all. The New Year is around the corner. Let's think about where we can go to unwind, okay?

"It's just a dream. Forget it, and everything will be alright.

"I swear I'll lay off the pâté and booze for a while. If I dream about your dad, you'll be the first to know."

Things were quiet for the next three days.

I kept checking in, and Chester kept reassuring me, no weird dreams, nothing out of the ordinary.

He even tiptoed around the idea of seeing a shrink, but I was not having any of it.

Just when I started to relax, that's when it happened.

Chester did not come home one night, and his phone might as well have been a brick.

That old, uneasy feeling crept back in, and I bolted for the cemetery.

There he was, sitting by my dad's grave, a mouthful of pâté and a half-empty glass of whiskey, toasting the air.

My heart twisted in my chest.

"Don't you dare eat that! Spit it out, now!"

I dashed over, pounding on his back, desperate to make it stop.

However, Chester just looked up, his face streaked with tears.

"Dad's plight tore at my heart. In my dreams, he wept from hunger, craving nothing but liver spread. I couldn't stand it."

I slumped to the floor, utterly drained.

That night, Chester's vomiting turned severe, and we rushed him to the ER.

He was hit with a diagnosis of advanced acute liver cirrhosis, and after three days in the ICU, he took his last breath.

Jane came as soon as she heard, trying to offer some solace.

"You look wrecked, Silvia. Maybe Wendy could stay with me for a bit? Give you a chance to breathe."

I managed a wry smile and a shake of my head.

In my previous life, Jane's good intentions led to my daughter's disappearance after school.

In this life, I could not put her through that again.

"Jane, I appreciate it, but I'll hang in there."

After Jane left, I stood by Chester's body in the morgue, emotionless and empty.

My home was broken once more.

Why? Why did my dad do this to me? It was a riddle I could not solve.

I pulled Wendy out of school this term, keeping her close at all times.

The thought of losing her again was unbearable.

That was our final shot.

I would lay down my life to keep her safe.

Thankfully, Wendy was a gem, never a bother, always trying to lift my spirits.

However, today, she asked for something.

Her eyes were distant.

"Mom, I want to have spicy stew in grandpa's memory."

I staggered, my nerves wound tight.

My dad took everyone I loved.

Was my little girl his next target?

What did I do to deserve that?

Rage cut through the dread.

If there was no escape, then I would not run.

I inhaled deeply and reached for Wendy's hand. "Sweetie, let's go keep Grandpa company with some spicy stew," I said.h

I grabbed two takeout containers filled with spicy stew and tender slices of meat and led my daughter to my dad's gravesite.

One by one, I shoved the meat into my mouth, chewing with a fury as I stared down the smiling photo on his headstone, tears streaming down my face.

"Dad! I swear I've never let you down!

"When you got sick and couldn't eat, I was up at five every morning, making your liquid meals, sitting by your bed, cleaning you up.

"I drained my savings for your hospital bills, for all those supplements.

"Mom never complained, caring for you day and night, and Chester, he respected you just like his own dad.

"And Wendy, she made sure to visit and chat every single weekend!"

The tears were scalding, mixing with the spicy broth, salty and hot, making me cough and sputter.

"What's got you so upset, huh? Just let me have it!"

I shouted into the silence, "You want to eat, right? Well, eat!"

However, the cemetery gave no reply.

I went home with a heavy heart, my daughter in tow.

I sat on the couch, eyes wide open, all through the night.

By the time the sun rose, she was still sleeping soundly.

Then I started to laugh, a crazy, uncontrollable laugh, even as tears kept rolling down.

Three days later, the year was coming to a close.

Just like before, I dreamed of Dad again.

He was as gaunt as ever in the dream, his lips dry, moving without sound.

"My girl, life was so hard for me. Show me some mercy.

"It's New Year's, I'm coming home for dinner, don't forget to make fish!"

I woke up with a start.

Once the fog of sleep cleared, all that was left was resolved.

He just wanted fish, right?

Then that's what everyone would get.

I invited the whole family over and laid out a feast of fish dishes.

However, the mood was eerie; no one even reached for their forks.

Theodore Douglas, my uncle, cleared his throat, his eyes scanning the room before landing on me.

"You know, they say starving is the worst way to go.

"Before your Dad passed, he couldn't stop talking about wanting some fish, but you wouldn't even let him have that.

"Now he's gone, and look at you, throwing a whole fish banquet. Such a devoted child you are!"

The air crackled with sarcasm.

I pretended not to notice the sting in Theodore's words.

With a smile, I served him a slice of fish belly on his plate.

"Uncle Theodore, Dad needed money for his treatments, money you borrowed and never returned."

His face soured instantly.

I glanced around the room.

"And Aunt, that 'miracle cure' you got for Dad, three grand a bottle? Funny, it's only a hundred and twenty bucks when I checked."

"Oh, Silvia, why dredge up such things now, at New Year's?"

The chime of the New Year's bell rang out.

"It's New Year's, everyone. Eat up, for Dad's sake."

The relatives, anxious, I might say more, quickly changed the subject and dove into their meals.

Only when everyone seemed okay did I carefully place a boneless piece of fish in my daughter's plate.

"Sweetie, take your time eating."

I watched her, my breath caught in my chest.

She nodded, sweet as ever, and took a bite.

One bite, two bites.

However, her face flushed red.

Wendy clutched her mouth, coughing hard.

A trickle of blood ran down her chin!

I was rooted to the spot, drained of all strength.

Why was it just my daughter who was affected? I could not understand.

That piece of fish was meticulously deboned.

The relatives, seeing my daughter's violent reaction, turned ghostly pale.

They shook me hard.

"Silvia, what did you give her?"

"Don't just stand there, get her to a hospital!"

However, I was frozen, and in the chaos, they called for an ambulance.

Yet, that day, hospital after hospital told us they were understaffed.

In a state of utter despair, I fumbled for Jane's number and called her.

The ambulance screamed into view almost immediately.

Jane leaped out, her face etched with panic, as she scooped Wendy from my limp arms.

"What's she choking on?"

I could only gaze at her, my eyes hollow, lost.

"Fish."

Without wasting another second, Jane hauled me into the ambulance.

I sat there, watching my little girl, silent and soulless, as if she were already gone.

The emergency room's red light flashed urgently.

Numb, I perched on a hallway bench, frozen in time.

After an eternity, or maybe just two hours, the emergency room doors swung open.

The doctor removed his mask, his face grim.

"I'm sorry, we did everything we could. The fishbone pierced her trachea; we couldn't save her."

I tried to stand, but my legs betrayed me, and I crumpled to the floor.

A guttural scream tore from my throat.

As my tears fell, they seemed to carry away the last of my spirit.

A nurse wheeled my daughter away, her small form hidden beneath a stark white sheet.

Out of nowhere, Theodore lunged at me, his foot connecting with a sickening thud.

"Look at you, crying like you're the victim, you bring nothing but bad luck!

"You invite us for a meal, and this disaster happens!

"You did this on purpose, didn't you? First your parents, then Chester, and now your own child!"

His kick sent a warm trickle of blood down my face.

Jane was by my side in an instant. "Stop it! This is a hospital, for God's sake!"

Her authoritative figure stood between Theodore, her voice cutting through the chaos.

She pointed to the security cameras lining the hallway.

"The hospital's watching. Lay another finger on Silvia, and I'm calling the cops."

Her words snapped me back to reality. I wiped away my tears and steadied myself.

I walked to the morgue with purpose, bypassing the chance to see my daughter one last time.

Instead, I found the doctor in charge.

"Doctor," I said, my voice steady, "I want to donate her organs."

My voice was raspy but steady.

The doctor froze. "Are you sure about this?

"The patient passed away less than an hour ago. It might be too much for other family members to handle."

I stood my ground. "There's no one else left.

"And it's not just my daughter. I want Chester's and my mom's remains donated too."

Everyone stared at me like I lost my mind.

"Silvia! Have you lost all sense of decency? They're gone, and you want to give away their organs!"

"To think the Douglas family could produce such a monster. What a curse."

Jane, taken aback, tried to reason with me in the softest tone she could muster.

"Silvia, please, take a moment to think this over."

Ignoring her, I grabbed the pen and swiftly signed the nurse's form.

In a flash, a hand I knew all too well snatched the paper away and ripped it in two.