I Was Dying While They Chose to Save Her
Lily · Completed · 5.4k Words
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Introduction
My younger sister, Freya, was preparing for her advanced training in New York the following week, so she dragged me to the dance studio to help her correct her movements. I put on my dance shoes as usual and stood in the center of the floor, ready to demonstrate a turn.
The moment my foot slipped, I didn't even have time to react.
My body hit the ground hard, and the sharp pain from the back of my head nearly made me lose consciousness. I lay on the cold floor, my throat tight, unable to even cry out for help.
When Mother rushed in, she didn't spare me a glance.
She immediately helped Freya up and took her to the hospital. I missed the critical window for treatment and died on the way to the hospital.
The moment my foot slipped, I didn't even have time to react.
My body hit the ground hard, and the sharp pain from the back of my head nearly made me lose consciousness. I lay on the cold floor, my throat tight, unable to even cry out for help.
When Mother rushed in, she didn't spare me a glance.
She immediately helped Freya up and took her to the hospital. I missed the critical window for treatment and died on the way to the hospital.
Chapter 1
As I lay dying in Dr. Megan's car on the way to the hospital, my soul drifted to my mom's side in the hospital room.
She sat beside the bed of my younger sister, Freya Winter, clutching her hand. "My precious angel, does your ankle still hurt?"
Mom, I'm here too. I'm dying.
But Isabella Winter only had eyes for her golden child.
Freya lay propped against pillows, looking fragile in her hospital gown. "The pain is getting worse, Mama," she whimpered. "But I'm trying to be brave."
Mom's eyes filled with tears. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy will get you the best care."
Freya's performance was always spot-on.
The door burst open. Dad rushed in, suit wrinkled. "How is she? How bad are her injuries?"
"Thank God you're here, Richard," Mom said. "Our little angel needs us."
Neither asked about me. Not once.
Mary, our housekeeper, shifted uncomfortably in the corner. Finally, she said, "Mrs. Winter, Cecilia was hurt quite badly too. When she hit her head—"
"Can't you see that Freya is in more pain?" Mom's voice turned sharp. "Besides, she's the one who tripped Freya."
My heart shattered. Even in death, I was still the inconvenient daughter.
Mom dialed Dr. Megan, our family doctor. "Megan, get here now! Freya needs you! You know her better."
"Mrs. Winter, I'm taking Cecilia to the hospital. Her head injury is serious, she needs immediate—"
"She's hurt? How is that possible? She deliberately tripped Freya during dance practice, making her cry from the pain, and when I confronted her about it, she didn't say a word." Mom said sternly, "Put her on the phone, right now!"
I heard Megan's hesitant voice: "Ma'am, she's barely conscious—"
"Tell her, Freya was in the hospital because of her!"
I wanted to respond, to defend myself, but my body couldn't speak anymore.
She then hung up.
"Mama? Papa? Is... is Cecilia okay?"
"Darling, you're still worried about her?" Mom stroked Freya's hair.
"Mom," Freya's voice trembled, "I'm worried she's still mad at me. She's never forgiven me for taking the spot at the New York Ballet intensive. She was supposed to go, but..." she sobbed. "I never meant to stand in the way of her dreams."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Dad said firmly. "That spot went to the most deserving dancer."
How ridiculous. As if she had the talent to get into the New York Ballet program on her own.
God knows how many strings Mom had pulled behind the scenes for her precious daughter.
As I saw her manipulate them with perfectly crafted tears, I finally understood the depth of her control.
Even in my final moments, as my body grew colder in that car, Freya was still their innocent baby girl.
They would never care about why I had really slipped and fallen to my death tonight.
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