Chapter 4
Over the two days I stayed in the hospital with Stella, her jar completely filled up again.
She sat eagerly on the edge of her hospital bed, using a meal tray to scribble down everything she wanted to trade in a small notebook.
"Lila, besides dad's life, what else are you trading for?" Stella asked. "Next week is mom's birthday, and mine. Aren't you going to show some appreciation?"
"I've got my eye on the most popular girl in school," hearing that, my brother said confidently, as if it were his absolute right. "I want her helplessly in love with me. Do you hear me, Lila Belle?"
Mom walked over to my side, nodding along.
"I don't need much, just something practical," Mom said. "Get me a heavy gold bracelet. Oh, and when your father comes back to life, he's going to need a fresh start. Trade for a good new job for him to make up for the trauma of dying."
Before I could say a word, Stella chimed in, perfectly playing the sweet victim.
"Mom, it looks like Lila doesn't want to. I can just do it. I'll save Dad and get the gifts for you and my brother." She blinked innocently. "We're family. There's no need to hold grudges."
Mom rubbed Stella's hair affectionately. "I know you have a good heart. But your sister must do this. She needs to learn what it means to be grateful."
"We poured all our love and money into raising her," Mom explained righteously. "Now it's her turn to pay back what she owes."
When Mom looked back at me, her eyes were ice-cold. "Lila, if you aren't even willing to save your own father, then pack your bags and get out of my house."
I slowly looked up at her. "So... it really doesn't matter to you if I explode into fireworks?"
Mom let out a harsh, dismissive laugh.
"Then blow up. Who else is there to blame? Your father and I gave you a perfect childhood." Mom sneered. "If you explode, it just proves you were a liar, secretly trading things behind our backs."
Stella covered her mouth with a malicious giggle. "Mom, do you think Lila is like that other girl? Maybe she's secretly hooking up with someone. I saw her talking to a boy in the hallway."
Mom's expression instantly turned murderous.
She marched straight to my high school and withdrew me that very day.
Right in the middle of the crowded corridor, in front of everyone, she pointed a finger in my face and screamed.
"There's no point in you being here! You just come to school to chase boys, right? No wonder you never listen to me. You're just desperate for attention!"
Even when that boy showed the counselor their texts, proving we were just lab partners, Mom didn't feel an ounce of guilt.
She just sat around the house, blindly scrolling through her phone and loudly crunching on potato chips.
"Since you're a dropout now, go get a job. You're just in a rebellious phase," Mom declared. "You clearly don't understand how much blood and sweat it takes to keep a kid alive."
"Go see for yourself. If we didn't truly love you, we would have drowned you in a bathtub when you were a baby and kept only Stella."
She forced me to work as a dishwasher at a local diner. After a whole morning of scrubbing in freezing, greasy water, my hands were completely covered in tiny, stinging cuts. I had only made twenty bucks.
"Do you understand your parents' sacrifices now?" Mom demanded when I got home.
I dug my fingernails into the raw, burning skin of my hands. I kept my head down and quietly said, "Yes."
My brother scoffed. "Is that supposed to be an apology? You should get on your knees and beg for Mom's forgiveness."
I dropped to the scuffed floor like a broken machine. "Mom, thank you for everything."
"Glad you finally know your place," she muttered.
The day the Life Exchange Shop reopened, Mom surprisingly made me a cup of warm milk.
But the dead silence coming from my jar told me the horrifying truth: that milk wasn't made out of love. I drank the drugged milk anyway.
When I opened my eyes again, my wrists were tightly bound with rope. They had dragged my unconscious body straight to the shop’s counter.
"Bring your father back first," Mom ordered eagerly. "Then get our gifts."
I didn't fight back.
I looked at the clerk, who wore the exact same mechanical, polite smile as always.
I pushed my empty jar forward.
The system's loud scanning beep echoed through the quiet room.
I turned my head for one final look at Mom. Her eyes were shining with greedy anticipation.
In the next second, I shattered.
My body blew apart in a sickening, deafening explosion of human fireworks.
Hot, dark blood splattered violently across her smiling face.
