Chapter 2

When I was five or six, I really did hate my sister.

At that time, I didn’t understand what a countdown was.

I only knew that when there was only one piece of dried meat in the house, it belonged to her.

The only jar of healing ointment was used on her.

When a new fur coat was made, she wore it first, and I wore her old clothes. The sleeves were too long and didn’t fit at all.

Even the bedtime stories every night were told only to her.

I would lie by the crack of the door. Watching the three of them huddled together in the candlelight, my chest would tighten.

Back then, I felt wronged. I thought my sister had taken everything from me.

In the fall, when I was seven, Dad brought back a deer.

Mom made a big pot of soup. The whole house smelled like meat, and I squatted by the stove, salivating.

When the soup was served, the two biggest venison legs were placed into Bella’s bowl. The smell was rich.

“Bella, eat more. You need it,” Linda said gently.

I looked at my own bowl. It was a clear soup, with a few leaves floating on top, and only bits of meat.

My tears fell at once.

“Why does she get both legs?!” I shouted.

David slammed his hand on the stone table. The bowls and plates shook.

He glared at me. “Why are you so unreasonable? Your sister is weak. What’s wrong with her eating more meat?”

Unreasonable. There was that word again.

I jumped up and pointed at Bella’s pale face, at the two venison legs in her bowl, and screamed.

“Why don’t you just die?! Give me back everything that’s mine!”

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw tears fall from her eyes, dropping into her bowl.

Her lips trembled. She said something, but I didn’t hear it.

The next second, Linda’s hand struck my face.

My mom had never hit me before. That was the first time.

I covered my face and stood there, stunned, tears all over my face.

David walked over, grabbed me, and threw me out the door. He told me to stay outside and reflect.

The door closed behind me.

I cried in the yard the whole night. My face was swollen, and my stomach was empty. However, no one came to check on me.

Before dawn the next day, I got up and tried to go back inside.

As I passed the kitchen, I heard David and Linda talking inside. Their voices were very low.

I crouched under the window and listened.

“Nine years left.” Linda was crying, her voice suppressed, as if afraid someone would hear.

David didn’t speak. I could only hear his heavy breathing.

“The witch’s prophecy has never been wrong,” Linda cried again. “My Bella… she only has nine years left.”

David finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Stop crying. The pups might hear.”

“I know… I know…” Linda sobbed.

“But yesterday, Clara pointed at Bella and told her to die… She doesn’t know her sister really will die…”

I crouched under the window, feeling regret for what I had done.

So there was a reason they treated Bella so well…

I slowly stood up and walked on my toes toward Bella’s room.

The door wasn’t fully closed. I saw her lying on the bed, her eyes shut, tear marks still on her face.

Beside her pillow was a small cloth pouch, clumsily sewn. On it was my name.

I wanted to open it and see what was inside.

Just as I reached out, Bella suddenly opened her eyes. When she saw me, she paused, then smiled.

“Clara,” her voice was hoarse. “Does your face still hurt?”

“You didn’t eat dinner, right? You must be hungry. There’s bread in the pouch I saved for you. Take it…”

I turned and ran.