Chapter 2

The hospital hallway was cold and smelled of antiseptic.

My mother was gone. My sister was born. And I was the cause of it all.

Liam, my eldest brother, found me huddled on a bench outside the nursery, where nurses were cooing over a tiny, pink-faced Lily.

His face was twisted with grief and rage.

"It's your fault."

His voice was low, guttural.

"You killed her. Just like you killed Dad and Grandpa."

He shoved me, hard. I wasn't expecting it. I stumbled backwards, my head hitting the wall with a dull thud before I crumpled to the floor.

"Liam!" Ethan, the middle brother, ran over, but not to help me. He stood over me, his charming face ugly with contempt. "Don't touch her. She's a curse."

Noah, the youngest of my brothers, just watched from a distance, his popular, charismatic face set in a mask of disgust.

I lay on the cold linoleum, the back of my head throbbing. I pushed myself up on my elbows, a small, sharp pain blooming on my palm where I had scraped it on the floor. A tiny bead of blood welled up, a stark red dot against my pale skin.

The pain was nothing compared to the looks in their eyes. It was a mixture of fear, hatred, and a profound, bottomless loathing that I knew would follow me for the rest of my short life. They didn't see a grieving sister, they saw a monster.

I wanted to tell them it wasn't my fault. I wanted to scream that I had tried to warn them, that I loved our parents too. But the words wouldn't come out. My throat was tight with unshed tears and a fear so deep it felt like it was part of my bones.

I just stared at them, my brothers, the boys I had grown up with, and saw only strangers.

Slowly, I bit my lip to stop it from trembling and pushed myself to my feet. My legs felt shaky. I didn't say a word. I just wrapped my arms around myself and walked away down the long, quiet corridor, the flickering fluorescent lights overhead making the shadows dance.

I found an empty waiting room and collapsed into a chair, exhaustion washing over me. The emotional and physical shock was too much, and I fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, the sun was streaming through the window, and the hospital was bustling with morning activity. My head still hurt, and my body was stiff.

I looked around, a flicker of hope in my chest. Maybe they had come back for me. Maybe, after the initial shock, they had realized I was their sister and I was hurting too.

But the room was empty.

My heart pounded with a rising panic. I ran out into the hallway, my feet clumsy and numb. I checked the nursery. Lily was gone. I checked the entrance. Their car was gone.

They had left me.

They had taken their new, perfect sister home and left the cursed one behind at the hospital where our mother died.

That was the day my childhood truly ended. That was the day I understood that the numbers I saw weren't the real curse. The real curse was being left alone by the people who were supposed to love you.