Dying to Be Loved
460 Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
The three-fifty milkshake was what finally broke me.
My parents bought my sister a five-hundred-dollar prom dress without blinking. But me? They made me beg our waiter for three dollars. In front of everyone. Called it 'building character.'
When she framed me for stealing Mom's ring, they had me shipped off to some hellhole wilderness camp in Utah.
'Go learn how to act normal,' Dad said. 'And quit faking being sick.'
Thing is, I wasn't faking.
The day the sheriff showed up with my autopsy report, Mom was in the kitchen frosting cupcakes for my sister's party. Dad actually laughed. Told the cop I was just playing another one of my games.
His smile died when they made him identify the body.
My parents bought my sister a five-hundred-dollar prom dress without blinking. But me? They made me beg our waiter for three dollars. In front of everyone. Called it 'building character.'
When she framed me for stealing Mom's ring, they had me shipped off to some hellhole wilderness camp in Utah.
'Go learn how to act normal,' Dad said. 'And quit faking being sick.'
Thing is, I wasn't faking.
The day the sheriff showed up with my autopsy report, Mom was in the kitchen frosting cupcakes for my sister's party. Dad actually laughed. Told the cop I was just playing another one of my games.
His smile died when they made him identify the body.

















































