ay was cold and sm

sister was born. And I

on a bench outside the nursery, where nurs

twisted with

your f

was low,

ust like you kille

tumbled backwards, my head hitting the wall wi

t to help me. He stood over me, his charming face u

watched from a distance, his popular, ch

n my elbows, a small, sharp pain blooming on my palm where I had scraped it on

ar, hatred, and a profound, bottomless loathing that I knew would follow me for

rn them, that I loved our parents too. But the words wouldn't come out. My throat w

thers, the boys I had grown u

shaky. I didn't say a word. I just wrapped my arms around myself and walked away down the

exhaustion washing over me. The emotional and physical sho

indow, and the hospital was bustling with morning a

y had come back for me. Maybe, after the initial shock, t

room w

hallway, my feet clumsy and numb. I checked the nursery.

had l

er home and left the cursed one behind

rstood that the numbers I saw weren't the real curse. The real cur