I remembered every one of those scars.

The first was on my forearm.

It happened when Lola came over to our house as a child. She dumped boiling water on my arm. I screamed and cried. The scar never faded.

My mom blamed me for making a big deal out of it—said I got Lola in trouble with her mom.

The second was on my wrist.

The summer after high school, I worked multiple jobs, pushed through the pressure, and got into my dream college. I thought my parents would finally be proud of me. I thought maybe they'd finally look my way.

Instead, my mom tore up my acceptance letter with her own hands.

"Samantha, you know we can only afford to send one kid to college. And that has to be Lola."

Lola cried and told me she was sorry, but her eyes were full of gloating.

I dropped to my knees and pounded on my parents' bedroom door. I begged my dad to let me keep going to school. I said I'd take out loans. I'd borrow money from anyone. I just wanted to learn.

But my voice went hoarse, and the door never opened.

That night, I curled up in the corner of the balcony. I couldn't feel the mosquitoes biting my skin or the summer heat pressing down on me.

On the other side of the door, in the living room, a completely different scene was playing out. My parents sat with Lola between them, laughing and talking excitedly about the college Lola was about to attend.

Just like a real family of three.

I quietly pulled out the fruit knife I'd been hiding for weeks. I cut my wrist.

It hurt. But not nearly as much as what was already inside me.

The third wound. The fourth. The fifth…

Too many scars to count, scattered across my thin, broken body. Every single one of them tied to Lola.

Now, looking at those old wounds again, I felt nothing but stillness.

I'm finally dead, I thought.

I just wondered what my parents' faces would look like when they found out.

A full day and night passed. Still no word from me.

My parents started blowing up my phone.

[Samantha, if you don't come back, just die out there. What did that guy promise you? Money? You'd throw away your own parents for that?]

[Your mother and I broke our backs raising you. So things got tight after the bankruptcy. That's no excuse for you to turn into some gold digger running off with the first loser who smiled at you.]

[Just come home, Samantha. We have money again. You can go back to the good life.]

They didn't know their dead daughter was floating right there in the room, watching every single word they typed.

Then Lola offered a suggestion.

"Aunt Macey, Samantha's always hated that I take some of your attention away. How about this—you formally adopt me into the family in front of everyone. I'll replace Samantha as the family heiress. If she sees that, she'll get mad enough to come home."

Lola had hinted before that she wanted my parents to formally adopt her. I'd refused—locked myself in the attic to stop it—and they'd let it go.

Now I stood in front of my parents, begging.

"Mom, Dad, I'm already dead! I'm never coming back! Please don't let Lola replace me. I'm your daughter. I'm your daughter!"

My parents hesitated for just a moment. Then they agreed.

The next day, they invited all their relatives and friends. They even brought in the most respected elder of the family to serve as witness. My own first birthday hadn't been half as grand.

They streamed the whole ceremony live. My parents gave one final threat straight into the camera.

"Samantha, your mother and I are giving you one more day. If you still don't come home, starting tomorrow, we will no longer recognize you as our daughter. Lola will become our one and only daughter."

My ears rang. The cruel comments from viewers sliced into me like knives.

[Now THIS is what a rich daughter should look like. That woman in the photo must have been a fake all along.]

[Am I the only one hoping the fake one just stays dead out there? Why come back after being such an ungrateful snake?]

[They really are mother and daughter. They look so alike.]

The ceremony marched toward its end. I never appeared.

The family attorney opened the thick leather-bound registry book. He was ready to strike out my name and enter Lola's in its place. But before he did, he turned to my parents one last time.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

My mom's eyes were red. She clenched her jaw. "She made her choice. So I'm making mine."

My dad said nothing. Just let out a long, heavy sigh.

Then I watched—witnessed—as my own name was scratched out. And Lola's was written.

My heart split in two. I collapsed to my knees, unable to stand anymore.

From my dried-up eyes, blood tears poured down my face. I threw my head back and laughed—a bitter, broken sound.

Lola smiled, satisfied. The online viewers cheered. The attorney closed the book.

"From this day forward, Lola is the only daughter of Macey Kinder and Roger Wheeler. Samantha Rogers no longer exists."

The words had barely landed when my parents' assistant—the one who'd been searching for me—burst into the room. His voice shook as it reached every ear.

"Sir… two days ago, your daughter was killed in a collapse at the construction site."