When I Die

My family strapped me to the cold metal chair on the fifth day of Vanessa's disappearance.

"Please, Claire," my mother Mrs. Vitale begged, her voice shaking. "Tell us where Vanessa is."

Five years. Five years since I'd returned to this family, and still, my own mother loved Vanessa more than me.

When I was six, I vanished from a family gala. The Vitals turned the city upside down trying to search me, till they found nothing. In despair, my parents adopted Vanessa—a replacement daughter.

Now that I was back, I'd become the replacement instead.

"I don't know where Vanessa is!" My voice cracked from days of repeating the same plea.

Father smacked a letter against my cheek. "Stop lying! Vanessa's letter makes it clear—you know where she is!"

Actually, I'd read the letter. Vanessa's dramatic goodbye: "I'm not your real daughter. I shouldn't steal Claire's place anymore."

A masterpiece performance.

Across the room, my mother's sobs echoed.

Then came the voice that still haunted my dreams—Lawrence Taylor, my fiancé, heir to the Taylor family.

"Claire," he sighed, "I know you're jealous of Vanessa. She can be...spoiled sometimes. But this isn't funny anymore. It's gone too far. Tell us where she is."

His words cut deeper than my father's rage. We'd been childhood sweethearts. I still remembered seven-year-old Lawrence making me a ring from weeds, promising to marry me one day. When I was away from home, I'd cried every night imagining his pain.

Then I came home five years ago—only to find Vanessa mattered more to him now.

"Please...I swear I don't know where she is," I whispered.

Vanessa had disappeared after "falling" down the stairs—an accident she blamed on me. Of course, I never touched her. But no one believed me. Now she was gone, and I was the villain.

My mother wiped her eyes. "Why do you hate her so much? Don't you remember the cake she made when you first came home? She even cut her fingers baking it for you!"

That cake. It was my first lesson in Vanessa's "hospitality".

My mother stepped closer, with tears in her eyes. "Claire," she begged, "just tell me where Vanessa is. My heart can't take this!"

She cried so easily. When it was about Vanessa.

I lifted my head slightly, opened my mouth, then closed it again.

In the end, all I could manage was a bitter smile.

"You dare laugh?" My father roared. "I know you're hiding Vanessa!"

He raised his hand to slap me, but Lawrence grabbed his arm.

"Sir," Lawrence warned. "We need her unharmed for the memory extraction."

The irony made me sick. My own family was about to use the memory extractor on me—that damned machine they normally reserved for torturing criminals. All this, just to find their precious Vanessa.

Father's face purpled. "That first day—acting like an animal in the car, ruining Vanessa's dress! Five years! Think of what she's done to Vanessa!"

His finger pointed at me. "And where were you when your mother was sick? Vanessa stayed up all night taking care of her, nearly collapsed from exhaustion. And you?" He shook his head in disappointment. "Slept like a baby. Shameless. No respect at all!"

I wanted to explain. But after five years of explanations that no one believed, I gave up.

Fine. I was the ungrateful brat. It was Vanessa who was their perfect daughter.

"Enough," Lawrence said firmly. "We need her conscious for the extraction."

How ironic! I was being spared because of Vanessa. The thought made tears spill down my cheeks.

My mother wiped them away with a sigh. "Don't blame your father for being harsh. You really have been...difficult."

Difficult? I laughed, but it turned into a sob. Now I was crying again, like some stupid kid who still believed her mom might take her side.

My father took a deep breath, making one last offer. "Claire, this memory extractor...” He glanced at the ominous machine, his voice turning gravelly. "It's our family's newest prototype. Untested. And maybe dangerous."

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "We don't want to use it. Now I'll ask one last time—tell us where Vanessa is, and you can leave with ten million. We'll never bother you again."

Leave? My eyes flew open. I was shaking my head before he finished.

Back to the streets? Never.

"Just as I thought," my father sneered. "Too greedy to take the money. You'd rather stay and wait for your inheritance."

My mother's face fell. They'd always hated how I hoarded every penny I found, how money meant safety to me. Now, refusing ten million just proved how selfish I was.

"I don't want to leave because—"

"Enough!" Father cut me off. "Dr. Mercer! Begin!"

I knew what came next. The machine would rip the truth from my skull—

But what if the truth was the one thing they couldn't bear?