Chapter 2

When I next opened my eyes, I saw myself curled up in a corner behind the storeroom partition. I never thought death would be such a simple affair.

As my soul drifted out of the room, I saw my parents helping a slightly tipsy Winnie through the front door.

Winnie mumbled, "Dad, Mom, it feels so good to have you two all to myself…"

My heart tightened at her sugary tone.

Mom gently patted her back and said, "Go wash up. I'll make you some soup to help with your hangover."

While passing through the living room, Dad stopped in surprise and asked, "Why's there glass all over the floor?"

"Ah, I think Sadie might have accidentally dropped the photo frame," Winnie piped up.

She leaned against Mom's shoulder, her eyes gleaming with venom, and continued, "I think she was angry again this afternoon. She even called to yell at me…"

She was lying.

Dad frowned and glanced at the pills scattered all over the floor. "Don't hold it against her. We'll retake the photo tomorrow."

They made a beeline for the kitchen. It was as if I never existed in this household.

I bit my lip, feeling my very soul tremble.

Winnie wrapped her arms around Mom from behind and said, "I haven't had your homemade soup in forever."

Ever since I was diagnosed with dependent personality disorder, Winnie would constantly complain that the atmosphere at home felt too oppressive.

My parents would always smile awkwardly and ask her to be more patient with me, but today, they allowed Winnie to cling to their sides.

Mom tapped her forehead affectionately. "Then, I'll make soup for you every day from now on."

All three of their shadows overlapped under the orange glow of the lights, painting a heartwarming scene.

The delicious aroma of hot soup soon filled the dining room.

"I'll go check on Sadie," Mom announced.

Winnie grabbed her by the wrist. "Don't! She hasn't made a sound the entire night, which must mean she doesn't want to see me. What if we trigger another of her episodes?"

Mom paused and didn't insist on the matter.

Winnie then cheerily asked Dad to feed her the soup.

"When I was sick as a kid, didn't you always feed me like this, Dad?" she asked. "Ever since Sadie was diagnosed, you two haven't really spared time for me in ages."

Dad sighed and blew lightly on a spoonful of soup. "It's our fault that you've had it rough all this time, but it's alright. Once Sadie's recovered, we can all go on a trip together as a family."

Winnie's eyes gleamed smugly.

She would always take everything from me when I needed our parents the most. I once asked my parents why through tears, but they would always reply with the same argument.

"Winnie is our adopted daughter, after all. You should be more understanding and not make things difficult for her just because you're younger. Be more tolerant."

I first felt aggrieved, then numb. Later, I was officially diagnosed with dependent personality disorder.

Looking back, I was the closest I'd ever been with my parents during that bleak period following my diagnosis.

With a meow, the stray cat I'd adopted, Snowy, slipped into the living room. It circled the empty food bowl a few times while meowing, then leaped onto the dining table in search of food.

Winnie screamed and smacked the edge of the dining table. "You dirty creature! Get off!"

Dad grabbed Snowy and tossed it aside. "Where's your owner? Didn't she feed you? Sadie Linberry! Why are you throwing another tantrum? So, you won't even look after your cat now?

"Get out here right now! Winnie's finally had a good day for once, so you'd better not ruin it for her!"

Dad's voice grew increasingly harsh. He was the one who'd brought Snowy in from the streets to keep me company. I raised Snowy lovingly, yet I could now do nothing but watch it meow in hunger.

Snowy seemed to sense my presence. Its fur suddenly bristled, and it started meowing in my direction. In the chaos, it overturned Winnie's bowl of soup and soaked a good part of her clothes.

Winnie cried out tearily, "I just wanted Mom and Dad to come along and unwind with me! Why must Sadie do this?"

Dad grabbed a tissue box and hurled it at Snowy. "Get lost! You're just as inconsiderate as your owner! Tell her that if she doesn't come out and apologize before the day's over, she can forget about receiving any more attention from us! Sadie! I know you can hear me!"

I floated in front of him, attempting to explain myself, but could not find my voice.

Snowy hid under the couch in fright.

I opened my mouth, but in the end, all I managed to say was, "I'm sorry."