The house was never warm. Not for Elyra, at least.

The walls held memories, but not the kind that brought comfort. Every picture frame, every whisper in the dim-lit halls, carried only one name—Eliana. The daughter they lost. The twin sister Elyra could never replace.

She sat at the worn-down kitchen table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood. The air smelled of roasted meat and freshly baked bread, yet hunger never reached her. It hadn’t for years.

A plate clattered in front of her. The sound was sharp, like a blade against stone. Her mother’s voice followed, bitter and cold.

“Eat. If you’re going to keep living in this house, at least pretend to be useful.”

Elyra didn’t lift her head. She knew better than to look into her mother’s eyes. They were empty now, like a woman who had died long ago but was cursed to keep breathing.

Her father sat in silence at the other end of the table, newspaper in hand, ignoring everything around him.

Then there was Caleb, her older brother by two years. He sat across from her, eating as if he wasn’t suffocating in the same poisoned air. He lived for this—watching her squirm under their cruelty.

“Did you clean my room?” Caleb asked, voice laced with irritation.

Elyra gave a small nod.

“And my laundry?”

Another nod.

Caleb scoffed. “She’s like a damn mute.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “She should be grateful. If we hadn’t kept her, she’d be rotting in the streets.”

Elyra wanted to scream. Wanted to tell them that she was the one rotting, right here in this house. But what was the point?

She had only fourteen days left.

Fourteen days before the cancer finished what her family had already started.

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. The nausea had been worse lately. Her hands trembled as she picked up her fork, though she had no intention of eating. Every bite felt like swallowing needles.

Her mother noticed the hesitation. “What, now you think you’re too good for our food?”

“I’m just… not hungry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Caleb laughed. “Maybe she’s trying to starve herself to death. Wouldn’t that be a damn blessing?”

Her father turned the page of his newspaper. He never spoke much when it came to her. He didn’t need to. His silence was its own brand of cruelty.

Her mother clicked her tongue in annoyance and snatched the plate away. “Fine. Starve, then. But don’t you dare waste away before I get the house cleaned tomorrow. If you’re going to live under this roof, you work for it.”

Elyra’s fingers curled into her lap. Her body ached, her chest burned, but she simply nodded again. Obedience was survival.

At least, it had been.

Now, survival didn’t matter anymore.

Later that night, Elyra sat on the cold, hard floor of her small room—the attic. It was never meant to be a bedroom. It was cramped, dusty, and in the winter, unbearably cold. But her parents didn’t care.

She pulled out the small bottle of pills hidden beneath her bed, fingers trembling as she uncapped it.

These were what kept her going. Not for much longer, but just enough.

She placed one on her tongue, swallowing it dry. The pain in her chest was unbearable tonight, as if her body was already beginning to shut down.

A part of her wished it would hurry.

She leaned against the wall, eyes drifting to the cracked ceiling. The moonlight barely reached her from the small, grimy window, casting ghostly shadows across the room.

In the quiet, memories of Eliana surfaced.

Her twin had been everything she wasn’t—bright, loved, alive. People gravitated toward Eliana like she carried the sun in her hands. Even Caleb had adored her. They were always together, laughing, whispering secrets that Elyra was never part of.

And then, in one single moment, she was gone.

A car accident. A tragedy. A loss no one could recover from.

But instead of grieving, her family turned their sorrow into hatred. Toward her.

“You should have died instead.”

The words had been spoken so many times, by her mother, her father, even Caleb.

At some point, she started believing them.

The days passed in a blur of chores, pain, and silence.

Her body was failing. She could feel it deep in her bones. The weight of exhaustion never left her, and the nausea made eating impossible. Yet she forced herself to keep going.

Because she didn’t want them to know.

Not until it was too late.

One evening, after an unbearable day of scrubbing floors and enduring Caleb’s mocking insults, she stumbled into her room, too weak to stand.

Her body collapsed onto the bed, breath ragged. The pain was unbearable.

She didn’t even notice when the door creaked open.

Caleb had no reason to enter his sister’s room.

He never did.

But tonight, something gnawed at him. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was some twisted curiosity.

Or maybe it was the small, muffled sounds of pain he heard from the attic.

He had always hated her. She was the reason Eliana was gone. Their Eliana.

But as he stepped into the dim attic, his eyes landed on something unexpected—a small bottle of medicine, half-hidden beneath the bed.

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands.

The label made his stomach drop.

This wasn’t normal medicine. This wasn’t for a simple fever or infection.

It was for cancer treatment.

His grip tightened around the bottle, his heart pounding against his ribs.

Cancer?

No.

This had to be some mistake.

Elyra was weak, yes, but cancer?

His gaze flickered to her frail, sleeping form. For the first time, he noticed just how thin she had become. How pale. The dark circles under her eyes, the way her breathing seemed so… shallow.

A strange feeling twisted inside him.

Regret.

Guilt.

Fear.

For the first time in his life, Caleb was afraid of losing her. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...