The moment Sandra’s hand curled around my mother’s necklace, something inside me snapped.
“No!” I lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. “That’s mine — my mother gave it to me before she fell sick! You can’t just take it!”
Sandra’s lips curled into that poisonous smile I’d once trusted. “Oh, look at you — suddenly brave, huh?” She tugged it harder, the chain digging into my neck before it snapped free.
I slapped her. The sound cracked through the hallway. For one heartbeat, I almost felt powerful. “You filthy snake — you’ve stolen everything else, you don’t get to have this!”
But Sandra’s fake tears came quick — she stumbled back, clutching her cheek. “Marco!” she screeched, her voice shrill as a bell. “Marco, she hit me! She’s gone crazy!”
He appeared out of nowhere, still smelling like whiskey and expensive cologne. “What the hell is going on?”
Sandra ran to him, draping herself on his chest like a wounded pet. “I was just trying to help her pack and she attacked me! She slapped me, Marco! And she said she hopes my baby dies too — she wishes your child dead!”
“Liar!” I spat. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. “She’s the one who said she hopes my mother dies! She—”
“Shut up!” Marco’s eyes flared with that familiar hatred. “You’re pathetic. Blaming Sandra for everything? After what you did to Harriet — and now you hurt Sandra, too? Is this how low you’ll go?”
“It’s true — she wants me gone!” Sandra whimpered. “She keeps saying I ruined everything, but it’s her! She’s sick, Marco. She’s crazy!”
I shook my head, the words sticking in my throat like shards of glass. “She’s lying. That necklace — she stole it. It’s the only thing I have left of my mother—”
“You’re going to stand here and whine about some cheap necklace?” Marco snapped. He pulled out his phone, eyes cold. “You don’t want to apologize? You don’t want to kneel and beg like the useless dog you are?”
I lifted my chin, refusing to let the tears spill. “No. I won’t beg. Not to her. Not to you.”
His smile was razor sharp. “Really?” He hit speed dial. My heart plummeted when I heard the nurse answer on speaker. “Turn off the machines for my mother-in-law. Yes, you heard me — no more free ride for that vegetable. Let her rot, she’s just like her daughter—”
“Stop!” I fell to my knees so fast the floor bruised my bones. “Please! Don’t — I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Sandra, I’m sorry — just don’t hurt my mother!”
Sandra sniffed, wiping fake tears from her cheeks as she tilted her chin at me like a queen. “See? That’s better.”
I pressed my forehead to the floor, fists clenched so tight my nails cut my palms. This humiliation. This last performance. I let it happen because I knew — only a few days left. Then I’d be gone. For good.
Marco hung up and gave me one last look of disgust. “Pathetic. Be grateful Sandra forgives you. Now get up and clean this mess. Make yourself useful for once.”
They left me there, the necklace broken in Sandra’s palm, their laughter echoing down the hall. But I didn’t cry. Not this time. I crawled to my closet, pulled out the rest of my old letters, photos, the little cards Marco had given me during those first fake years. All the illusions. I carried the stack to the backyard, lit a match, and watched them curl and burn to ash in the wind.
When Marco came out and saw the flames, he sneered. “What the hell are you doing now?”
I didn’t flinch. “Old memories. They’re garbage now.”
He scoffed. “Crazy bitch.” He went back inside.
I knelt by the dying fire and lit a small candle for the child I’d lost — the baby I’d buried alone in my heart. For Harriet, too. My twin sister, the one whose ghost had chained me here for so long.
Their laughter drifted from the hallway — Sandra’s moans, Marco’s grunts. Once, that sound would’ve gutted me alive. Now? It was just noise. They were rotting together and I was already somewhere else in my mind — far away.
The next morning, I laid fresh flowers at Harriet’s old photo. It was her death anniversary. I wanted to go to the church, light a candle, ask her for forgiveness — for surviving.
But Marco blocked the door, arms crossed. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To church. It’s Harriet’s day—”
“So what?” He leaned in, breath sour. “You think you deserve to mourn her? You killed her. You were behind the wheel!”
“That’s not true!” My voice cracked. “She was driving — I tried to stop her—”
“You lying bitch.” He shoved me back inside. “You want to play saint now? You’re not leaving this house. You owe her your life. Stay here and rot like you should have years ago.”
He slammed the door. The lock clicked. Alone again. Always alone.
I sat by the window, hugging my knees, staring at the broken necklace I’d managed to snatch back when Sandra dropped it during the fight. Tarnished. Useless. Still my mother’s. I pressed it to my chest and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Mama. Just a few more days. I’ll make this right.”
That night, the shadows were heavy in the hallway. I thought it was Marco, come to gloat. But when the handle turned and the door creaked open, I saw strangers. Two men in masks, rifling through my drawers, yanking at my jewelry box.
“Please… don’t—” I begged. “Just take it, take it all—”
One of them turned. The glint of a knife caught the moonlight. Pain shot through my ribs as he backhanded me across the face. I stumbled, hit the wall. I scrambled for my phone, dialed Marco, desperation pouring from my throat.
“They’re here — robbers — please help—”
His voice came through, bored and low. “I know you’re bluffing. I’m with Sandra at the hospital, don’t add to my stress. Clean up your mess.”
The line went dead.
The man grabbed my hair, slammed me to the ground. I heard the drawers crash open, the sound of silver and glass scattering.
And then I let the darkness take me.
