Countdown to Cancer: May Your Guilt Kill You

Four months before I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, I was dressed in a Playboy Bunny costume and working in a bar. As I picked up a tray, I suddenly fainted.

When I woke up in the hospital, I saw that I was admitted as a patient with a critical illness. The doctor asked me to stay in the hospital to receive treatment. If I didn't comply, I would die very soon.

I stared at the astronomical amount on the medical bill—78,450 dollars.

The bill didn't include the medicine I would need to purchase for future treatments, the fees I would have to pay for my stay in the hospital, or the services the hospital staff provided.

That amount was simply the first payment that had to be made. The pen fell from between my fingers, and I refused to sign the document.

"You'll die if you're not treated," the doctor explained. "Where are your parents? Hurry and tell them to pay the medical bill."

The doctor looked at me with a bewildered expression.

"They won't save me. In fact, they would probably be happy if I died sooner than later," I answered weakly.

"How could that be? You should go home and gather what little money you have. The sooner you receive treatment, the higher the chances of you surviving."

The doctor encouraged me earnestly, but I just fell silent. Not long after the doctor left, three men rushed into the ICU.

I had just gotten to my feet when one of them slapped me hard across my face. The blow was so powerful that it caused my head to snap back and collide with the bedside cabinet. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

My head throbbed loudly as my stomach churned. I could only curl in on myself as if the pain would lessen if I did that.

"Winter, why must you be so loathsome? You pretended to have stomach cancer and lied to us just to ruin Summer's coming-of-age party."

The man's voice was raised and accusatory, dripping with disgust. I forced myself to peel my heavy eyelids open and looked up into a face that looked similar to mine.

The handsome man was dressed in a crisp suit and was glaring at me with fury burning in his eyes. A bone-chilling coldness rolled off him in waves, adding to his incredibly intimidating air.

"Andy, I—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he interrupted me by shouting, "Stut up! Don't you dare call me like that!"

He raised his hand again. Upon seeing how he was going to strike me again, Summer, who had been standing to the side, hastily grabbed his arm.

She sobbed, "Andy, don't hurt Winter anymore. Maybe she was just… throwing a little tantrum."

Andy's voice softened in an instant when he spoke to Summer.

"You don't have to defend her, Summer. She's always harbored ulterior motives. She's not gentle and kind like you are."

I chewed my bottom lip as I looked at them, gripping the railing of the bed for dear life. My stomach felt like it was on fire while my head continued to throb painfully.

"Don't cry. We'll go back and celebrate soon. I even put in a special order for your favorite diamond ring."

Andy stroked her face before wiping the tears from her eyes, his heart squeezing painfully.

"Thank you, Andy," Summer replied, her eyes brightening as she hugged his arm happily.

When Andy turned to look at me, the warmth in his eyes froze over and turned to glaciers. "It's been eight years, but you still haven't cleaned up your pathetic act. You still like to lie and steal the spotlight out of jealousy."

He sighed deeply before continuing in a disappointed tone, "I can't believe that you're Mom and Dad's biological daughter. I truly regret asking them to bring you home."

Tears streamed down my cheeks and blurred my vision, but I forced a smile.

"What are you smiling for? Are you that amused by what happened today?" he shouted angrily.

"I'm telling you the truth about my stomach cancer. I'm going to die soon. Do you believe me?" My tone was colored by despair as I pointed at the medical record placed on the bedside cabinet.

Andy was stunned for a moment before he gave me a once-over. He scoffed and sneered, "No one would believe you after all your lies, Winter.

"A person with stomach cancer should be taking care of themselves. They wouldn't work in a bar in a Playboy Bunny costume."

Sherman and Jimmy had just made it to my bed, and they glared daggers at me as if I were their sworn enemy.

"You're nothing but a liar, Winter. Did you really think you could swindle us out of our money by pretending to be ill? I'll have you know that you won't be getting a single cent of our family's fortune."

Sherman was wearing a steely expression. He poked my back and even shoved me forward. Fortunately, I was supporting myself against the wall. I would have fallen if I hadn't.

"The Lewis family doesn't need a useless piece of crap like you! You're simply getting your just desserts if you die.

"How dare you try to trick us with your medical records? You're way out of line," Jimmy said coldly.

He ripped the medical record off the clipboard. He didn't glance at the contents even once before tearing it to shreds, letting the scraps flutter to the ground.

Andy shook his head and sighed. He wrapped one arm around Summer's shoulders. "Go home by yourself. It's Summer's coming-of-age party today. You better not have that long face when you show up."

Sherman and Jimmy trailed after them. I watched as my brothers orbited around Summer as they took their leave before sighing deeply.

"But I'm really about to die," I murmured.