Their Rejection and My Goodbye

Six months into my grim bone cancer diagnosis, the doctor urged me to get hospitalized before it was too late.

Broke and out of options, I dialed Morgan Kramer one final time.

What answered me was her 100th rejection. Despairing, I gripped the diagnosis papers and shuffled alone to the crematorium.

"Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I said to the clerk.

He froze. "You're dealing with something heavy? Where is your family?"

I dropped my gaze, words failing me as the weight of isolation pressed down.

Kindly, he guided me to a chair in the waiting area and picked up the phone to call my parents.

Half an hour later, the roar of tires on gravel shattered the silence.

Lifting my head, I spotted my parents and adopted brother.

I instinctively tried to hide, but they zeroed in on me like hawks.

My dad, Vernon Kramer, exploded through the door, his hand flying out in a blur. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from Derek?"

It hit me then that today was Derek Kramer's big reward day. Vernon had taken a rare time off to ferry him to the amusement park for acing his midterms.

All I craved was assurance that my body wouldn't rot unattended, but in their eyes, it was just another ploy for favoritism.

Explanations bubbled up, but I choked them down, knowing from years of dismissal that truth was futile against their blinders.

My silence fueled Morgan's fury. She lunged for the papers, tearing them with vicious rips. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!"

She hadn't even scanned the words before branding them lies.

I wished it were all a tantrum for attention, but I was really dying.

Derek cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad."

I glared at him, imagining the satisfaction of landing a punch on his smug face. But reality checked me. One swing, and Vernon and Morgan would unleash hell on me.

Yet, with the reaper knocking, my tolerance snapped.

I forced a bitter smile. "You know how sick I am. No need to keep pinning crap on me at this point, right?"

He didn't bat an eyelid, just turned those puppy-dog eyes on Vernon.

I let out a self-deprecating sigh, the irony stinging. Derek had mastered the art of manipulation, wrapping our parents around his finger like puppet strings.

Sure enough, Vernon seized my collar, his voice thick with anger. "Can't you chill for one freaking day? Derek is bending over backward to help, and you're spitting in his face?"

Morgan scooped Derek into a protective embrace. "Ignore this ungrateful punk. All he does is stir up trouble. He won't see a penny from us."

I shook my head slowly, a hollow ache spreading.

It was a shame. Even if she changed her mind now, time had run out.

After an internal tug-of-war, I met their eyes with forced calm. "Sorry. I screwed up again, stirring the pot."

But my apology was worthless currency here.

Vernon's glare intensified. "Think that wraps this up? You need a wake-up call, or you'll never learn."

He slung an arm around Derek and Morgan, storming out.

Since I was a minor without parental consent, the cremation booking evaporated like smoke.

Defeated, I slunk home to pack my meager belongings before they could trash them.

While I scavenged in solitude, my so-called family was having a good time at the amusement park.