I didn’t care that my ribs screamed in protest. I didn’t care that Kevin was shouting behind us. This was my mother’s memory—the one thing I had left—and Jasmine had desecrated it like trash.

She laughed through gritted teeth, even as I pulled her hair. “She was nothing. Just like you.”

We rolled, crashing into the edge of the counter with a thud. Her nails tore across my cheek, but I didn’t stop. Rage kept me going. Years of silence. Years of being blamed. Years of watching her manipulate and lie—and watching them all fall for it.

Kevin’s voice roared behind us. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He grabbed me and yanked me back hard by the arm. Pain seared through my shoulder. I barely had time to breathe before Jasmine started crying—faking it, of course—as she crawled dramatically to his side.

“She attacked me,” she whimpered. “I was just trying to be nice to her…”

“What?” I gasped. “She burned Mom’s necklace! She threw away her ashes!”

My father stormed in, eyes wild. “Enough!” he roared. “You ungrateful monster!”

Before I could explain, his hand lashed across my face. I hit the floor with a sickening thud, tasting blood.

Kevin didn’t stop him. Neither did Jasmine.

“Look what you did to Jasmine!” Dad bellowed. “You’re a disgrace. I should’ve left you with that useless stepfather when your mother died. Should’ve never brought you back.”

I tried to crawl, to get away, but my body refused to cooperate. My ribs throbbed. My face burned. “Please…” I whispered. “Please stop…”

Kevin’s foot slammed into my side. I screamed.

Blood pooled in my mouth. My vision blurred.

I begged. “Please… I’m hurt…”

They didn’t care.

“Pathetic,” my father muttered. “She plays victim now.”

“Let’s go,” Kevin said, grabbing Jasmine’s hand. “She’s not even worth this.”

And just like that—they left.

I lay on the cold floor, crumpled, bleeding, broken.

“Help…” I whispered. “Somebody… please…”

But no one came.

When I woke up, the room was cold and sterile. A beeping noise pulsed beside me. My whole body ached—chest wrapped in gauze, bruises painting my skin. My mouth was dry, and my head pounded.

A nurse leaned over. “You’re awake. You’re lucky. If the man who brought you hadn’t rushed you in, you wouldn’t have made it. Internal bleeding. Fractured ribs. Mild concussion.”

My throat cracked. “Man?”

“He didn’t leave a name. Just told us you needed help… badly.”

I blinked at the ceiling, tears building. Another hospital room. Another near-death.

“Miss,” the nurse said gently, “this isn’t normal. Do you… want to report this?”

I nodded, voice low. “Yes. I want to report everything.”

She squeezed my hand. “We’ll get the police here.”

I told them everything. The attack. The neglect. The abuse. But mostly—I told them about Jasmine. Because it always started with her. The lies. The manipulation. The violence disguised as “family problems.”

They listened. They took notes. And for the first time… I felt heard.

Later, Kevin barged in. Anger was written all over his face. “What the hell is going on?! Charges? Police?! Are you insane?!”

I sat up slowly, wincing. “I’m not insane. I’ve just had enough.”

He scoffed. “Over what? An urn? You’re pressing charges over that? It’s not like she meant to—”

“She told me to die, Kevin,” I interrupted. “She looked me in the eyes and said she wished I was dead.”

He paused. “You’re sisters. People say things in fights. Don’t make it serious.”

I laughed bitterly. “After everything? That’s all you have to say?”

“She didn’t mean it.”

I looked away. “Then neither do I.”

Jasmine entered the room later, fake tears already in place. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll talk to the police. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Gregory came in behind her, arms crossed. “You’ll drop the charges,” he said firmly. “Now.”

I didn’t respond.

“Do it, Isabella,” he said. “Apologize.”

They surrounded me. Kevin. Jasmine. My father. I was alone again.

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll apologize.”

Jasmine smiled sweetly and leaned in to hug me. “It’s okay,” she said to the room. But in my ear, she hissed, “Why are you still alive? You should’ve died, but don’t worry, the next time, you will.”

I whispered back, “Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again.”

That night, I lay in bed, heart empty. The doctor discharged me the next morning—far too early, but I knew why. Gregory had pulled strings because he didn't want to spend money on hospital bills.

When I got home, Kevin was sitting at the dining table, signing some papers.

I walked over, holding a folder. “Can you sign this?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t even look. “What now? Another bill? God, you’re a pain in the ass. We’ve been wasting so much money on your hospital trips. Next time, just don’t come back.”

He scribbled his signature and tossed the pen.

I clutched the signed paper to my chest.

“Sure,” I murmured. “I won’t come back.”

He didn’t hear me. Didn’t care.

But I meant every word.

Tomorrow, I’d leave. Not quietly. Not with permission. But for good.

And this time—I’d make sure they remembered what it felt like to lose me. Because by the time they noticed I was gone… I’d already be too far to reach.

The next morning, sunlight spilled into my window like nothing had happened. But my body ached with every breath—a reminder that not everyone gets to wake up whole. Today was the day I’d leave. For good.

A text from my stepfather came just after 7 a.m.

"Everything is ready. Driver’s waiting. I’ll see you soon. — Dad"

I stared at the message for a long second, heart pounding. It didn’t feel real yet.

Downstairs, the house was buzzing. Voices. Music. Laughter. Today was also my real father’s birthday—Gregory. The man who gave me his blood, but not once his heart. The man who raised Jasmine like a princess and treated me like dust. Everyone was preparing for the big party as if nothing had happened to me. No black eyes. No fractured ribs. No blood on their hands. Just balloons, expensive wine, and fake smiles.

They had moved on. I was invisible again.

Then came the knock on my door.

Jasmine.

She stepped in with her fake concerned expression, holding a dress hanger. “I brought something for you to wear,” she said, too brightly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look... tired.”

I stared blankly. “I’m not going.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she said with a forced laugh. “It’s Dad’s birthday.”

Before I could respond, Kevin appeared behind her, annoyed as usual. “Why are you always late? And slow?” he snapped. “Just don’t be around me at the party. No one knows we’re married, and I’m arriving with Jasmine. Got it? You just help out in the back. Serve drinks or something.”

“Also,” my father added from the hallway, “don’t even talk to the investors. After what you did with that investment mess, don’t you dare ruin anything else. I’m warning you.”

I nodded slowly. “Then I’ll come late. Go ahead without me.”

Jasmine beamed, leaning into Kevin’s arm. “Oh, that’s great. We’ll head first then.”

And just like that—they left me behind. Again.

As the front door slammed shut, something inside me snapped. I went to my closet and started pulling everything down. Clothes, books, framed photos. I packed only what mattered. Burned the rest in the sink. I wasn’t leaving pieces of myself behind for them to mock.

I dropped my wedding ring into an envelope. Added the signed divorce papers. Printed photos. Screenshots of their affair. Even the scandal I’d discovered—Kevin and Jasmine making shady transactions using Gregory’s name. I labeled everything carefully.

Then, I called the party venue.

“Hello, I’d like to cancel the food for the event.”

“Ma’am?” the voice replied, confused. “The party’s today. Everything’s scheduled—food, drinks, staff—”

“I know,” I said, my voice cool. “And I said cancel the food. Cancel the staff. Let them starve.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“I also want a brown envelope delivered to my father—exactly at 4 p.m. No delays.”

I didn’t need to explain. They knew me. I had always been the one handling everything—every party, every detail. I’d organized his birthdays for years. Flawlessly. Elegantly. Gregory used to say I was the only one who could pull it off right.

But this year, I’d ruin it—just like they’d ruined me.

Let them scramble. Let them face the guests with empty plates and no music. Let them answer the investors' questions with shame and confusion.

I hung up and walked out. My bags were already by the door. A sleek black limousine waited at the curb, just as my stepfather promised.

I didn’t look back.

At the airport, I handed my ticket and passport. Boarding time was thirty minutes away. That’s when the calls started.

First Gregory. "Where are you? What the hell happened to the party?"

Then Kevin. "Where’s the food? What did you do?! Get back here!"

Jasmine. "Are you serious right now?! You ruined Dad’s birthday! You’ll pay for this! I swear you’ll get hurt again."

I opened our group chat—Kevin, Jasmine, and my father—and typed slowly, clearly, as my fingers trembled.

“Don’t worry. You’ll never hurt me again. This is the last time you’ll hear from me. Enjoy the party. I sent you a gift—all three of you. Goodbye.”

I stared at the message one last time before hitting send.

I imagined the chaos after my father received the divorce papers, wedding link, the scam papers that Jasmine had done, and then their scandal being played. Perfect.

Before they could reply, I pulled out the SIM card from my phone, snapped it in half, and dropped it in the trash bin by the boarding gate.