Yolana smiled, her head held high with an air of superiority.
“Alright, let’s go inside. She’s just a waitress. After the party, my parents will take care of her.”
Cold water flooded my nose and mouth, and I had no strength left to fight. I could only let my tired body sink to the bottom of the pool.
Before I closed my eyes, I could hear my father’s voice. “Welcome, everyone, to my precious daughter’s birthday party…”
…
After I died, my spirit lingered at home.
I watched my parents talking. “I haven’t seen Grace in so long. Her birthday is next month, so let’s call her back. She’s turning eighteen.”
“That ungrateful child. She doesn’t even answer the phone. She might as well have died out there.”
I really wanted to tell them I was already dead. I had died on a cold winter night. I would never see my eighteenth birthday.
I remembered when I was little, before our family became as wealthy as it was now. My father bought me a limited edition doll, just because I said I liked it. Back then, I dreamed of living the life of a doll—pretty clothes, a big house, and endless love.
Then, my parents became incredibly rich and were suddenly the wealthiest in the country. I got everything I had wanted: a big house, beautiful clothes, and all the love I could have hoped for. But once they decided to adopt Yolana, all of that was no longer for me.
I became a child without a home.
Months passed, and they thought I’d call them back, but no matter how long they waited, they heard nothing. They wanted to go to my school, but each time, Yolana made up an excuse to stop them.
“Russell, why hasn’t Grace called us? I checked, and her card is empty. What do you think she’s doing now?”
“She’s probably with some man, lying around, not doing anything useful.”
“Mom, Dad, don’t talk like that about Grace. She’s just upset, but she’ll come back soon. Don’t worry. She’ll be home in no time.”
“Yolana, stop defending her. You’ve always been sensible, unlike her—she’s a waste!”
Today was my birthday. My parents had already bought a cake early in the morning, and my mother had made my favorite dishes, waiting for me to come home.
She kept calling me, but all she heard was the same “unable to connect” message.
