My brother hates me, he hates me. He can't accept having a sister with a mental illness. He often deliberately provokes me to have an episode in front of others. Making me look ugly. The most common phrase he says is: "Haylen, I really wish you were dead from your illness." Later, I really died. But he went crazy. Every day stubbornly imitating my ugly appearance when I have an episode. Begging me to appear in his dreams for a glance.
Chapter 1
My brother despised me, hated me.
He couldn't accept having a sister with a mental illness.
He often deliberately provoked me into having an episode in front of others, humiliating me.
The phrase he most frequently uttered was, "Caitlin, I really wish you would have an episode and die."
Later, I actually died.
But he went mad.
Every day, he stubbornly mimicked my shameful outbursts, pleading for me to appear in his dreams, even for a moment.
I died on the night of my brother's birthday. My body was cruelly dismembered and thrown into several bags, which were then discarded in different trash bins. For some reason, my soul did not dissipate. In a daze, I drifted back home again.
The house was brightly lit, and everyone was celebrating my brother's birthday. Shane, my brother, was frowning, holding a glass of wine, lost in thought. One of his friends spoke up.
"Shane, where's that crazy sister of yours? Call her out to join us!"
Shane clicked his tongue and downed his drink in one gulp. "She's not home. Who knows where she died."
"What a pity, one less person to mess with. She was always the most enthusiastic about your affairs. It's strange she hasn't come back today. Could something have happened to her?"
Shane sneered. "Something happened? What could possibly happen? It would be best if she died out there. The Nash family doesn't need a crazy person."
Strange, can you still feel heartache after death? Although I knew my brother wished for my death, hearing it again made my heart ache with a thousand tiny stabs.
Brother, as you wished. I really did die. I died on your birthday. Do you think my death is the best birthday gift you could ever receive?
Shane picked up his wine and walked to the balcony, repeatedly checking his phone, seemingly waiting for someone to message him. Ten minutes later, he unlocked his phone and, to my surprise, opened our chat history. It was filled with messages I had sent him, all unanswered.
"Happy Birthday, brother!"
"Today, I'll give you the gift you always wanted."
He hadn't replied. I hadn't sent any more messages either because I was already dead...
I leaned in closer to read the screen, carefully going through our chat history, and let out a self-mocking laugh. Shane's lips were tightly pressed together. After a long hesitation, he typed a few words on the screen.
"Caitlin, are you dead out there? Why aren't you back yet?"
In the past, I would always reply to my brother's messages instantly. This time, fifteen minutes had passed, and he still hadn't received a reply from me. Shane gritted his teeth loudly and smashed his glass with force.
"If you don't come back, just die out there."
I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at the moonlight outside. It was so cold.
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"Lucien, let's get a divorce," I said in a peremptory tone that was long overdue, the most decisive farewell to this absurd marriage. We had been married for exactly three years-three years that, for me, were filled with nothing but endless loneliness and torment. For three years, the husband who should have stood by my side through every storm, Lucien Sullivan, had completely disappeared from my life as if he had never existed. He vanished without a trace, leaving me alone to endure this empty, desolate marriage. Today, I finally received his message: "I'm back. Come pick me up at the airport." When I read his words, my heart leapt with joy, and I raced to the airport, thinking that he finally understood my love and was coming back to me. But his cruelty was far worse than I could have ever imagined-he was accompanied by a pregnant woman, and that woman was Carla, my closest and most trusted friend. In that moment, all of my previous excitement, all my hope, and all of our shared laughter and tears turned into the sharpest of daggers, stabbing into my heart and leaving me gasping for air. Now, all I want is to escape from this place that has left me so broken-to lick my wounds in solitude. Even if these wounds will remain with me for the rest of my life, I refuse to have anything to do with him ever again. He should know that it was his own hand that trampled our love underfoot, that his coldness and betrayal created this irreparable situation. But when he heard those words, he desperately clung to this broken, crumbling marriage, unwilling to let it end-almost as though doing so could rewind time and return everything to how it used to be. "Aurora, come back. I regret everything!" Regret? Those simple words stirred no emotion in me-only endless sadness and fury. My heart let out a frantic, desperate scream: It's too late for any of this!