My parents forced me to drop out of school and work eight jobs just to support my cousin Lola. I was only allowed to keep twenty bucks a month.

One day, while working on a construction site, I got buried in a collapse. Dying, I called them—but they were busy throwing a lavish birthday party for Lola.

Turns out they'd faked bankruptcy. Every penny went to her. After I died, they spread rumors that I'd run off with some guy.

When the truth came out, my parents lost their minds. Their company went under. Later, I found out Lola was actually my twin sister—she'd been sent away as a baby to avoid some legal trouble.

In the end, my mother poisoned Lola, then killed herself. Only then could my soul rest. My aunt came to my grave and whispered, "Next life, come to me."

After my parents chose to go bankrupt just to pay for my cousin Lola Winters's medical treatment, I was forced to drop out of school and start earning money. Every dollar I sent home went straight to Lola's hospital bills. By twenty, I looked forty from juggling eight part-time jobs.

My mom told me, "Your aunt did so much for our family. We have to take care of Lola."

My dad said, "You're the older cousin. You need to make way for her. Put her first."

I thought if I just kept giving in and being understanding, my parents would finally see how much I was hurting. But then the accident happened.

I was working construction when the tunnel collapsed. Trapped under the rubble, barely alive, I called my mom for the ninety-ninth time. All I got was a scolding.

"You're supposed to be working, not calling around!"

In the background, I heard my dad's excited voice.

"Happy birthday to our little princess Lola!"

I opened my cousin's livestream. There she was, dripping in designer brands. And standing right next to her, dressed just as fancy, were my parents—singing happy birthday. Around Lola's neck was a necklace worth a fortune.

In complete despair, I made one last call.

"Mom… do you really love me?"

"Love is for rich families, Samantha. We don't have that kind of luxury right now. Are you feeling sad? I'll make you your favorite cabbage soup tonight."

But Mom, cabbage soup tastes terrible. And you'll never see me again.

…

The call ended. My last bit of strength gave out. My phone slipped from my hand. Even so, Mom still hung up before I could.

And even so, I still heard Lola's excited voice in that final second.

"Thank you for the necklace, Aunt Macey!"

I'd seen that necklace online the week before. The price made my head spin. Mom had snatched my phone out of my hand and snapped, "Samantha, what's wrong with you? Instead of thinking about how to earn money for Lola's treatment, you're looking at this?"

It turned out it was never impossible. It was just impossible for me.

The smell of blood and the crushing weight disappeared. I thought I'd been rescued. Then I realized—I was dead.

As my soul drifted up from the rubble, I heard the contractor sighing over the collapse.

"See? This is exactly what I was worried about. I told you, she was just a kid in her twenties, skin and bones. Something like this was bound to happen. But you just had to keep her on."

"Come on, I didn't think she'd actually die! She gave me this whole sob story about her little sister being deathly ill and needing money."

Watching the foreman's guilty face, I felt a strange sense of shame. I never should have come to the construction site in the first place.

Every month, my parents took almost everything I earned for Lola's medical bills. They left me with twenty bucks. I survived on bread and water. One time, I was so hungry I collapsed on the side of the road. I called them in a daze, begging for an advance.

Mom said, "Samantha, why can't you be more reasonable? Twenty dollars a month isn't enough? When your father and I were your age, we got by just fine on ten."

Dad added, "It's not that we don't want to give you money, honey. We just finished paying off our debts. There's nothing left."

That very night, Lola posted a screenshot of her chat with my parents. All she'd done was send a crying emoji. They each sent her a thousand dollars.

A few days later, I passed out from low blood sugar at work again. I thought maybe, after hearing from the doctor how weak I was, my parents would finally care. Maybe they'd try to make things right.

Instead, they blamed me for not exercising enough and told me to start working construction. "It'll build your strength," they said. "Plus, room and board are included. You'll save money. It's perfect."

Now I was finally free. So why did my heart feel like it was tearing in two?

When they dug my body out, it was unrecognizable. Bruised, broken, barely intact. In some places, bone was showing. Since no one could reach my family, they left me lying there on the ground. Within minutes, flies were swarming.

The thought of not even getting a proper burial made my eyes burn. I couldn't watch anymore.

My soul drifted home. The moment I reached the door, I heard Lola's sweet voice.

"Aunt Macey, you faked going broke all these years just to pay for my treatment. You don't think Samantha will be mad when she finds out, do you?"

I floated through the door. There was my mother, dressed in fine clothes, gently stroking Lola's hair.

"Your mother entrusted you to me before she died," she said softly. "I promised to raise you like my own daughter.

"Samantha was always so possessive as a child. If she saw her father and me doting on you, she would've been jealous. But now her attitude has improved a lot. I think it's finally time to tell her we never actually lost our money."

But Mom, I'm never coming home again.

Dad smoothed down his expensive designer suit and nodded along. "No pain, no gain. Your aunt and I are doing this for her own good."

Hearing that, tears of blood streamed down my face. "But why does it always have to be me? Why not Lola?"

No one heard my scream. My mom glanced at the clock on the wall.

"It's already ten o'clock. Samantha still isn't back. Give her a call and tell her to get home."

I watched my mom lead Lola into the house, casually swapping her expensive clothes for the plain, worn-out workwear she usually wore. I watched my dad take off his luxury watch and dial my number.

For the first time, I didn't pick up right away. His first reaction was anger.

"She's still mad we didn't answer her call during Lola's birthday party. So immature."

My mom slammed down a bowl of bland cabbage soup, frowning. "I told you not to let her work at that construction site. It's a bad environment. She's going to go downhill. Look—she's already stopped coming home."

Mom, so you do know construction sites are dangerous. You do know I'm not safe there.

But when I called you, begging to come home because someone was harassing me, you said, "Samantha, you're really going to start lying now? Your father and I have worked ourselves to the bone raising you. We didn't do it so you could turn into a liar."

After a few more failed calls, my mom couldn't sit still anymore.

"I'm going down to that site right now and dragging her back."

Thinking of my broken body back there, swarmed with flies, I smiled bitterly. I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she found me.

But just as she stood up, Lola immediately wrapped her arm around Mom's, comforting her.

"Aunt Macey, don't be upset. Samantha's probably just hurt that I didn't invite her to my birthday. It's okay—I'll apologize to her."

My mom froze. Her face darkened even more. "Why should you apologize? She's just spoiled. Your father and I are the ones who let her get that way."

My dad sighed, disappointed. "Lola, this has nothing to do with you. Samantha has always been difficult. If she were even half as considerate as you, we wouldn't have these problems."

"You know what? Let her stay gone. If she never comes back, so be it. Your mother and I will just consider ourselves down one daughter."

Dad, as you wish. I really can't come back.

Watching my parents drop the idea of coming to find me, all because of one sentence from Lola, I let out a bitter laugh. Another cut to my heart. Blood dripped from the corner of my eye.

That night, Dad drove himself, Mom, and Lola home. My soul followed.

Standing in front of their brand-new mansion, my heart ached all over again.

I flashed back to the day we "went bankrupt." A group of people calling themselves creditors stormed into our house and smashed everything in sight. The only room left untouched was Lola's. Mine got hit the hardest—nothing stayed whole. I begged them on my knees to spare the family photo of Mom, Dad, and me. In the end, someone still crushed the frame under their boot.

Now my old bedroom was Lola's bedroom. The family photo had been replaced with one of her and my parents. The pomegranate tree I'd planted in the yard as a kid had been ripped out by the roots. In its place stood Lola's favorite gardenias.

Lola said she was scared. My mom—who had never once slept beside me—immediately rushed over to soothe her at once and sitting with her until she fell asleep.

The sight burned my eyes. I wanted to leave, but my soul was rooted to the spot.

Lola curled up happily in my mom's arms, looking shy. "Aunt Macey... can I call you Mom?"

I thought my mom would say yes. Instead, she just smiled, got out of bed, tucked Lola in, and left the room.

The moment the door closed, my dad rushed over, pale as a ghost.

"Honey... I just got a call from the construction site. Samantha's been in an accident."

All the color drained from my mom's face. She and my dad rushed downstairs together.

"What happened to Samantha?"

My dad's teeth were chattering. "They didn't say. They just told us to get there as soon as possible. Honey... do you think something happened to her?"

Before they could even reach the door, Lola came running out of her room barefoot.

"Aunt Macey, Uncle Roger—are you going to get Samantha? I want to come too."

Just like that, my parents' attention shifted entirely back to Lola. One of them found her shoes. The other grabbed her a jacket.

It was another half hour before they finally left.

In the car, Lola put on a concerned face. "Aunt Macey... did Samantha sneak out of the construction site?"

My mom tensed up. "Why would you say that, Lola? Do you know something?"

Lola hesitated, looking like she'd said something she shouldn't have. My heart dropped. I knew something was wrong. I tried to cover her mouth—but my hand passed right through her face.

"Aunt Macey, Uncle Roger... I've been wanting to tell you this for a while. Samantha has a boyfriend at the construction site. He's broke and ugly, but she's decided to run away with him back to his hometown to get married. She made me promise not to tell you..."

I clawed at Lola's lying mouth. "Shut up! Shut up! I don't have a boyfriend! Lola, why are you doing this to me?!"

But I was already dead. There was nothing I could do to stop her.

"Samantha said that if I told you, she'd make me pay. Aunt Macey, when you see her, please make sure she doesn't blame me."

My mom was livid. "She has no right to blame you for anything, not after pulling something so shameful! If I'd known she'd turn out like this, I would've aborted her when I had the chance."

I broke down. All that was left inside me was ash and bitter laughter. "Mom, I'm already dead. Why won't you believe me? I'm your real daughter. Why do you trust someone else's child over me?"

My dad slammed his fist against the steering wheel. "After all the trouble her mother and I went through to come get her, she abandons us. What a disgrace to this family."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the construction site called again, asking if they were close. Before they could even finish the question, my dad exploded.

"From now on, I don't have a daughter. Whatever happens to her—dead or alive—has nothing to do with me."

He pulled the car over and called his assistant.

"My daughter has run off with some nobody. Post a reward online. Fifty thousand dollars to anyone who finds that ungrateful girl."

Hearing that, I clutched my aching chest and wept.

"Dad... I didn't run off with anyone. I'm dead."

The next day, news spread like wildfire across the internet: the Wheeler family's heiress had shamelessly run away with a random man.

The comments came flooding in, all of them aimed at me.

[This girl has no gratitude. Her family is loaded, and she still runs away? Her parents must be so worried.]

[Look at this photo. She doesn't even look like a rich kid. Ugly and old. My mom looks better than her. That guy must be desperate.]

[I've met the Wheeler family's daughter before. She didn't look like this. She was pretty, dressed well. The person in this photo must be some fake.]

[No wonder she had no shame running off. You can't change bad blood.]

In life, I was bullied, humiliated, and judged by everyone around me.

In death, I was still the target of a million hateful voices. Still seen as nothing but a disgrace.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. My heart—already dead—somehow found a way to hurt all over again.

In the middle of that sweltering summer, my body began to rot. The stench of decay filled the air.

When the contractor couldn't reach my dad, he finally decided to call the police. My body was taken to the station. As the medical examiner cataloged my wounds—old injuries of all different sizes, scattered across my body—he sighed.

"She was so young. What a waste."

The police still couldn't reach my family.