Chapter 2

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

The cheerful singing yanked me violently out of my grief.

I found myself floating above our living room.

The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow. The long dining table was laden with a lavish feast, and right in the center sat a massive, three-tiered fondant cake.

Today was my birthday. And Isabella's.

"Come on, Isabella, make a wish," Mom said, her eyes gazing at her with absolute tenderness.

Isabella closed her eyes and clasped her hands together, her long eyelashes trembling just slightly. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and blew out the candles.

"I wish... I wish Harper would come home. No matter how much she hates me." Isabella's voice trembled with a perfectly executed, choked-back sob.

My father furrowed his brow. "Harper still hasn't even bothered to call. What kind of tantrum is she throwing now?"

"You really are an angel," Mom sighed, walking over to rub Isabella's shoulder. "You're always so considerate of her, and what does she do? She just bullies you."

Listening to them, I felt a suffocating sense of absurdity.

When we were ten, Isabella was messing around and fell into the lake. I dove in without hesitation and dragged her out. I ended up with a severe fever for three days that nearly turned into pneumonia, while they camped out in the hospital, guarding a merely startled Isabella.

When we were fifteen, Isabella stole Mom's diamond necklace to buy a designer bag. When she was caught, she cried and pointed at me, claiming I had forced her to do it. My father, Richard, whipped my back with a leather belt until it was covered in bloody welts. No one listened to a single word of my defense.

"That's just how she is," Julian said, walking down the stairs from the second floor. "Ever since Isa got sick, any time we pay a little more attention to Isabella, Harper pulls stunts for attention. This time is no different."

"But where could she go by herself?" Dad still sounded a bit concerned.

"Don't worry, Harper was a state swimming champion," Julian continued. "Even though the water in the basement rose fast, with her skills, holding her breath and swimming out the vent wouldn't be a problem at all. She's definitely just mad that I saved Isabella first, so she's hiding out at some friend's house on purpose just to make us panic."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but let out a soundless, bitter laugh.

A state swimming champion? Sure, I was a great swimmer. But not even an Olympic champion could push open an iron grate that was deadlocked from the outside!

Right at that moment, Julian's phone rang.

"Julian! Is Harper with you?!" The voice on the other end belonged to my best friend, Chloe, and she sounded terrified. "I saw on the news that the warehouse district you guys were in got hit by a massive flash flood! I haven't been able to reach her at all!"

Julian scoffed defensively. "She didn't go find you? Drop the act, Chloe. I brought Isabella back first. Harper is definitely just hiding in some corner right now, waiting for us to beg her to come back—"

"Are you insane?!" Chloe shrieked, cutting him off. "As her brother, how could you leave her there all alone?! You bastard, you abandoned your own sister!"

A crack finally appeared in Julian's confident facade. His knuckles turned white around the phone, and a fleeting flash of panic and hesitation crossed his eyes.

"Cough, cough..." A weak fit of coughing interrupted the tense silence.

"Isabella, how are you feeling? Does your lower back still hurt?" Julian instantly turned to her, his face filled with anxiety.

"I'm fine." Isabella forced a frail smile, though her eyes immediately grew red and teary. "I just... I just feel so guilty. If I wasn't sick, if my kidneys were healthy like a normal person's... you could have pulled Harper up with us. It's all my fault. Harper must hate me to death."

As she spoke, large, pitiful tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Don't talk like that!" Richard walked over, tenderly stroking Isabella's hair. "How can you blame yourself? You didn't choose to get sick. As your older sister, Harper is supposed to protect you. Playing hide-and-seek at a time like this... she is just entirely too immature!"

"But..." Isabella lowered her head, her voice trembling. "I saw her at the vent. She could have easily followed us up, but she suddenly just stopped moving. I called out to her, but she ignored me."

"Enough, Isabella. Stop carrying the blame for everything," Julian said, grabbing her hand with firm conviction. "If Harper is really using her own life as a joke just to get attention, then when she comes back, I'm going to teach her a lesson she won't forget."

"And to think I was actually worried about her panic attacks earlier! I bet she's hiding out in some motel right now, waiting for us to frantically call and beg her to come home."

"I am absolutely not making that call!" Dad sneered. "Cut off her credit cards! Let's see how long her little rebellion lasts then!"

A mocking smirk twisted Julian's lips. "Exactly. Someone like her, who would fake her own death just for attention, deserves to suffer out there for a while."

He pulled out his phone, pulled our parents and Isabella into a hug, and snapped a picture in front of the birthday cake.

A minute later, he posted a family portrait—the one without me—on Instagram. The caption was short and blindingly cruel: As long as Isabella is here, our family is complete.

Floating in mid-air, a bone-deep chill washed over my soul—one far more despairing than the freezing waters of the flood.

Dad, you don't need to cut off my credit cards.

And Julian, you're never going to get to see me suffer out there.

Because none of you will ever, ever see the day I come home and apologize.