Chapter 2
1/5
It was already super late when I got home. I barely managed to wash up before collapsing into bed, where I spent the entire night trapped in painful, bizarre dreams.
When I finally woke up, birds were chirping outside my window. It was the start of a new day—and day six in my countdown to complete memory loss.
The moment I got out of bed, a dull headache started pounding behind my eyes, along with a slight fever.
I stumbled downstairs, feeling like absolute garbage, hoping to make some cold medicine. But before I even reached the bottom step, I saw my massive LEGO creation–the one I’d deliberately placed in the living room–knocked over, with pieces scattered everywhere.
Tracy stood there looking smug, her eyes full of challenge.
“Oops, sorry, Feona,” she said with fake concern. “Your thing was in the way. I didn’t see it and accidentally kicked it over.”
I stared in shock at the model I’d spent three painstaking months building, now completely destroyed. My eyes started to
burn with tears.
This wasn’t just any LEGO set–it was the only gift my mom had ever given me.
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2/5
I was raised by my grandmother from birth. My sister and I are twins, though I’m older by just five minutes.
When we were born, our parents‘ business was taking off, and they couldn’t handle raising two babies at once. So they made the decision to send one of us to live with my grandma in the countryside.
I was the one they sent away.
For eighteen whole years, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen my parents.
To make up for it, my mom bought me a giant LEGO set for my eighth birthday.
I was over the moon about it and assembled it with total dedication. I kept it where it would be the first thing I’d see every morning when I came downstairs. Like an idiot, I’d daydream about how perfect life would be once I finally got to live with my parents again.
But that day never came. It wasn’t until three months ago when my grandma passed away that my parents finally remembered they had a child abandoned in the countryside and were forced to bring me home.
I carefully carried my treasured LEGO set to my new home, thinking my mom would recognize the gift she’d once given me. Instead, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and muttered, “What are you carrying that piece of junk for? It’s going to take up so
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much space…”
I froze, staring at this woman who was supposed to be my mother but felt like a complete stranger.
3/5
That was when it hit me–the family warmth I’d been dreaming about for eighteen years might never actually be mine.
I just stood there speechless while my mom, Elizabeth Miller, busy in the kitchen, heard Tracy’s apology and poked her head out. She shrugged it off, telling her, “Don’t worry about her, Tracy. That stuff costs practically nothing. No need to apologize if it breaks.”
My dad, Kevin Miller, who hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper, nodded in agreement. He barely glanced at me, his face showing nothing but annoyance. “Your mom’s right. She’s definitely from the countryside, treating that junk like treasure. It’s embarrassing to even have it in our living room.”
With that, he went back to his paper, like he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
Tracy snuggled up to Elizabeth, playing up the victim as she whispered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Just call the maid to clean it up,” Kevin replied without bothering to look up.
The three of them walked out of the living room together, leaving me with nothing but their cold backs as they disappeared.
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They seemed to forget I was their daughter too.
4/5
Tracy and I were the same age, with identical looks, the same height, and even similar voices. Yet for some reason, they adored Tracy and couldn’t care less about me.
My foggy brain didn’t want to form another word, so I shuffled
to the kitchen in my slippers, found a pack of cold medicine that hadn’t expired yet, and washed it down with water.
Tracy lounged on the couch, slippers dangling off her feet, her face lit up with a smile as she texted someone. Mid–conversation, she suddenly tapped on a voice message, and James‘ voice pierced my cars.
“Don’t be upset, Tracy. Feona never listens anyway–it’s her fault for not putting away that LEGO set properly. Just hang on, I’ll make sure she apologizes to you properly later.”
His voice boomed through the huge living room from her phone’s cranked–up volume. Tracy shot me a smug look, then brought the phone to her lips and replied in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Don’t worry about it, James! I wasn’t even mad. Feona doesn’t need to apologize.”
I watched her contemptuous posture and that self–satisfied tone, feeling nothing but ice in my veins.
It was fine. Whatever. I’d already given up fighting my illness. Once these seven days were over, I wouldn’t remember all these painful moments anymore, and Tracy’s provocations wouldn’t
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hurt me anymore.
For the first time ever, I found myself desperately counting down to day seven.
