Atoned for Nothing: His Death Ploy

When I was ten, I bugged my brother to come home for my birthday.

He died in a plane crash that day. They never found his body.

After that, my parents saw me as a total screw-up. They blamed me for his death.

Every year on his memorial day, they forced me to kneel at the cemetery and repent my mistakes.

I did that for eight years.

I figured I'd spend my whole life paying for it. But on my 18th birthday, some creep stalked and murdered me.

Right before I died, I tried calling for help.

But my mom chewed me out. "I bet you're just dodging your duty to make up for James. You're full of crap. If you hadn't forced him to come back, he would have been alive. This is what you deserve."

She hung up, leaving me staring at the dead screen. My last hope was dashed.

She was right. Someone like me meant nothing but bad luck to those around me. I didn't deserve to exist.

But then, eight years after his death, James showed up with his pregnant wife.

When they heard I was gone, they fell apart.

On my tenth birthday, I screwed up big time. I got my brother killed.

I grew up in a happy family. My parents, Robert Miller and Susan Miller, loved me. My brother, James Miller, was awesome.

I was everyone's little princess. But that all crashed with one phone call.

On my birthday, I called James, whining for him to come home. He lost his life because of it.

The plane went down. His body was never found.

Robert and Susan hated my guts for it.

"Why did you make him come back?" they accused me. "Why wasn't it you who died?"

That crash didn't just take James. It took me too.

Guilt and regret chewed me up. Everyone's blame shoved me into a black hole.

I questioned myself, "Why did I call him? Why did I kill him? Why did Death take him?"

If I hadn't dialed that day, he would have been alive.

Too bad regret couldn't change anything. No one had answers for me either.

Since that day, I had been made to atone for my mistakes.

Every year, on James's memorial day, which was also my birthday, my parents dragged me to the cemetery and made me kneel at his grave.

Now it was the eighth year, and I thought my life couldn't get any darker.

Then a serial killer found me in the rain and hacked me to bits.

I tried to fight back with the stun gun Robert gave me.

Years ago, Robert's job pissed off some shady people. They snatched Susan and me.

To save me, Susan got dragged by a car for dozens of yards. Robert took a knife to the chest for us.

The police arrived in time to get us out.

Later, Robert handed me that lamb toy. It had a high-voltage stun gun inside.

He taught me how to use it and said, "I can't always be there. You've gotta look out for yourself."

When that killer grabbed me, I jammed the toy into him, only to find it didn't work.

It was busted, and my last chance was gone.

The rest was all pain. Wrenches, pliers, axes, and other tools ripped into me without mercy.

My fear just egged him on.

It hurt like hell. I bawled and lost it all.

I never knew breaking bones could sound so loud. It rang sharply in my ears.

My skin peeled away, and blood blurred everything.

I blacked out.