My Wishes Are Her Nightmares

My phone screen flashed.

"Protocol activated. One daily wish granted."

I stared at the text for three seconds. Locked the screen and rolled over to go back to sleep.

I've seen enough of these dumb prank pop-ups.

The next morning, the text remained.

Not a virus.

No close button, no exit link.

Just pinned to the very top of my screen like a nail.

I tried to take a screenshot. Nothing.

Took a picture with my iPad and sent it to a friend. The text didn't show up in the photo at all.

I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling chandelier for a long time.

Then I typed a few words: "I want 500 dollars."

No response.

I typed again: "I wish for 500 dollars."

The text on the screen changed.

"Wish granted."

I waited all day. Nothing happened.

I got back to our Beverly Hills mansion that night. My mother, Sarah, slapped a stack of crisp Benjamins on the kitchen island.

"Get yourself something decent to wear. You look homeless. We have a socialite brunch this weekend, don't embarrass me."

She didn't even look at me when she said that.

She was scrolling through Instagram.

I picked up the 500 dollars.

Before I could even put it away, Sarah spoke again.

"Oh, I paid for Mia's designer jacket. 1,000 dollars. She looks absolutely stunning in it."

My fingers stiffened on the cash.

1,000 dollars.

I got 500.

Mia got 1,000.

Sarah didn't even look up: "Don't give me that cold face. It was on sale at Barneys, the original price was over two grand."

I wasn't giving her a cold face.

A string of memories just flashed through my mind.

Age seven, my birthday.

I wished for an American Girl doll.

The next day Sarah brought me one.

On the exact same day, my adopted sister Mia received two.

"The charity board sent them," Sarah had said back then. "Mind your own business."

Age nine, I got straight A's.

I wished for a new pair of sneakers.

Sarah took me to the mall over the weekend and bought me a pair.

At the checkout, Mia screamed at another pair on the rack.

Sarah checked the price and bought it.

Mia pointed to a third pair nearby. Claimed the colors matched perfectly.

Sarah bought that too without blinking an eye.

Two pairs.

I got one, she got two.

Age twelve, I wished for a room completely of my own.

My biological father David made a fortune that year. We moved into a mansion.

I got assigned a dark, tiny attic bedroom.

Mia got the massive master suite, complete with an independent walk-in closet.

"She's starting middle school soon. Puberty makes girls sensitive, she needs space," David said.

Sarah nodded in agreement.

I said nothing.

Take these incidents one by one, every single excuse was flawless.

Sent by outsiders, bought on sale, needed for school.

But line them all up?

I ask for one, she gets two.

I get a single portion, she gets double.

Every single time.

This absolutely couldn't be a coincidence.

I sat on the edge of my bed and unlocked my phone again. The text was still there.

"Protocol activated. One daily wish granted."

I stared at it for ten solid minutes.

How long had this damn protocol actually existed?

Then I remembered.

Blowing out candles every birthday as a kid, Sarah forced me to make a wish.

I closed my eyes tight and prayed in silence.

Every single wish came true.

And Mia stole double for every single wish.

I never connected the dots before.

My parents brainwashed me for years. I was the problem. A miserable loner. Mia was the golden cheerleader. Sweet. Social. Obedient. A perfect doll.

Sarah loved her more. She deserved it.

And I didn't.

Now, I stared at the text on the screen.

Fifteen years of suffocation finally found an outlet.

I wasn't the problem.

It was this sick rule.

I take one portion, she gets double.

Not favoritism, not luck. Some incomprehensible power at work.

And now, this thing clearly told me: it listens to me.

I locked my phone and fell back on the bed.

Mia's fake giggle echoed from down the hallway.

She was FaceTiming a friend, showing off her tight new jacket.

I closed my eyes.

Only one thought in my head.

I finally know how to play this game.