The only friend I really had in 10 years—my dog, the one the Harland sisters had thrown out over and over again—ended up getting hit by a car. But this time, he didn't make it.

I cradled his broken, lifeless body home. To be honest, I didn't feel much of anything anymore.

Violet glared at me, looking pissed. "You brought that damn dog back again?!"

Her sister Hazel stomped over and tried to yank the dog out of my arms. "Callum's allergic to fur, you know that! Seriously, are you just trying to screw with us now?!"

Callum. My stepbrother. The one who's been taking everything from me since the day he came into my life. First, my mother. Now, even my two childhood friends who had been by my side for two decades!

After burying my dog, I checked my email and saw the message that had been sitting there.

[Mr. Bancroft, please confirm if you'd like to join the Helix Biosciences Research. Please be informed that once confirmed, all contact with the outside world will be prohibited for five years.]

I didn't even hesitate. I typed out my response. [I'm in.]

It was already late at night when I sent it.

Violet called me at that hour anyway.

"You jerk! Thanks to you dragging that damn dog back, Callum had an asthma attack and ended up in the ER! You better get off your ass and make him some vegetable and chicken stew—bring it over ASAP!"

Just before she hung up, Hazel got on the line, adding, "And don't forget—no celery! And make sure the chicken's fresh, got it?! Otherwise, it'll taste terrible! Now hurry it up!"

After I hung up, I stared at the picture on my nightstand—of me and the Harland sisters. For a moment, it felt like a distant memory.

They used to actually care so much about me.

Back when I was a kid, my dad had just passed away—we hadn't even buried him yet—and Mom was already married to Callum's dad.

I didn't belong in that new family—they made sure of that. Eventually, Mom got so fed up with me that she sent me off to live with my grandma.

That's how I met the Harland sisters next door.

Maybe they pitied me, a kid without a dad, getting picked on.

They were protective like little suns in my life, bringing back the warmth and company I'd lost.

They wouldn't let me get close to any other girls. And at home, they barely let me lift a finger, practically shoving me out of the kitchen.

They promised they'd always have my back. But then, Callum came along, and just like that, their promise didn't mean a thing anymore.

The dog was a gift from the Harland sisters for my 10th birthday, and I named him Bucky. To me, he was family.

Violet used to throw big birthday parties for Bucky every year, and Hazel even blew a fortune building him a custom doghouse.

But once Callum complained about being "afraid of dogs" and "allergic," they didn't think twice before kicking Bucky out.

The poor dog couldn't figure out why his folks just suddenly abandoned him like that. Every time he managed to find his way back, they'd throw him out again—and even hit him. Until, finally, he ended up on the road, and a car hit him.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and I checked to see that it was a message from Callum.

[Hey, forget the chicken broth. Violet and Hazel already got me some crab.]

The photo attached showed Violet, usually so cold and untouchable, in a cheap apron over her designer dress, meticulously shelling a crab for him.

Hazel was there, too, blowing on a spoonful of soup like he was some helpless kid.

A few minutes later, Callum posted on Facebook: [The prince and his two princesses, together forever!]

They looked like a perfect little family. I didn't fit in that picture anymore. I couldn't help but force a bitter laugh at that realization.

I should've known it was time to go, so I set a countdown on my phone.

Seven days to go. The day before I leave happened to be Dad's death anniversary. After I pay my respects, at last, I'll be gone.

From now on, I'm done wasting my time on any of them.

The next day, I wrapped up all the paperwork at the office. On my way home, I found this massive bulldozer parked right in front of the house.

It was revving up like it was about to flatten Bucky's little doghouse! I bolt forward to stop it, but I tripped over some rocks and hit the ground hard.

My arm burned with pain; my skin was scraped raw and mixed with dirt, blood streaking down like some pathetic war paint.

I remember a time when just a scratch from when I bumped into a random stranger would send Violet and Hazel into a frenzy, rushing me to the hospital for a full-body scan like I'd shattered every bone.

Now? They just stood in the doorway with their blank faces staring at me.

I forced myself up, dragging my beaten body to stand between the bulldozer and what was left of Bucky's home.

That's when Callum looked at Bucky's little house, holding his nose and waving his hand like he was sniffing out garbage.

"Anything from the dead belongs in the trash—especially if it's from a dead dog. Or don't you think that's a problem?"

His smirk—that same damn look he had over a decade ago. Back then, when Dad died, I was so helpless I could only sleep by clutching his photo every night.

But Callum saw his chance. While I wasn't looking, that asshole threw my dad's only photo into the septic tank and even had the nerve to laugh like a lunatic standing in front of me!

"Miss your dad? Go fish his pic out! Dead folks' stuff are cursed. Your poor dad? Better off down there!"

I ran crying to Mom for help, hoping for some sympathy. But instead—she tore into me for making a fuss and locked me up in a dark room for three days! That's how I got claustrophobic.

When I snapped back to reality, I felt rage pounding through me as memories of old and new hatred flooded over me. Just as I raised my hand to shove Callum away, he stumbled and landed flat on the ground.

Violet and Hazel rushed over instantly, practically tripping over each other to lift him up, inspecting his arms and ankles with a look of concern written all over their faces.

The second she saw the tiny scratch on his hand, Hazel's eyes went red with vengeance.

Never one to hold back, she stormed over and kicked me square to the chest, sending me to the ground. She glared down at me with a look that could cut glass.

"Callum's your brother! How could you be this mean?! He was only trying to distract you from grieving over that damn dog, and you dare to raise a hand against him?"

"It's just a dog, Henderson! You're not even worth one of Callum's fingers! Now, go apologize to him, or I'll make sure you regret it!"

Violet just held Callum, calm as ever, not bothering to stop Hazel. But she stared at me with disappointment.

"Look, it's just a doghouse, Henderson. So what if it's gone? Hell, if Callum wanted, we'd even tear this whole villa down and build something better!"

Hearing that stung. Back when she built that little doghouse for Bucky, she joked that they'd keep it around for all of Bucky's future pups to have a place.

And a few years later, when Grandma passed away and Mom dragged me to come back, Violet and Hazel bought this villa to convince me to stay. They said it'd be proof of our friendship—that it'd stay the same forever.

But their idea of forever didn't last long.

I tried to step past them just to grab Bucky's old toys. But Hazel blocked me, stepping right in my way.

"Apologize to Callum first, or you're not getting a damn thing in there!"

I'd lost Grandma, lost Bucky, and now the one thing left—just a few of his toys.

Suddenly, Hazel slammed her foot into the back of my knee, forcing me to kneel. Before I knew it, my knees hit the ground hard.

My manipulative stepbrother flashed me a smug grin for a moment, but as soon as he turned around, that damn innocent expression was back on his face.

"Violet, it's so noisy and messy out here. Can we go inside now?"

Violet's cold expression softened into this way-too-sweet look.

"Alright, does your hand still hurt? Wanna go to the hospital? Need to get it checked?"

Hazel caught up, chiming in. "Callum, I heard you like roses. Once we clear this patch of land, I'll fill it up with a rose garden for you. Sound good?"

There they were, doting on Callum like he was the center of their world. He glanced at me, raised a brow, and mouthed something.

"Loser."

Violet and Hazel? They completely forgot I'm allergic to pollen allergy.

For over 10 years, every time flowers were about to bloom, they'd go around and clear every single flowering plant in my space.

I just shut my eyes now and dragged myself over to Bucky's room. The place was a mess. Took forever, but I finally found his favorite pink ball.

By then, it was dark. I went to the front door, pressed my fingerprint—and nothing happened. That's when it hit me: someone had erased my access. Even the passcode was changed.

So, I called Violet. No answer. Called Hazel. Same deal.

Thought about crashing at a hotel, but my phone was dying, and the closest one was miles away.

Then, because fate's got a sense of humor, the rain started. First, a drizzle. Then it just poured down.

My clothes got soaked, and the cuts on my arm stung like hell. I curled up there, shivering.

Finally, right as dawn started creeping in, the front door cracked open. Violet tiptoed out.

Her eyes landed on me—curled up in a ball—and for a second, I thought I saw pity. But just as fast, her face twisted with disgust.

"Well, Henderson, look at you. Out all night?"

"What's this, some sad attempt to get our attention? Grow up, would you?"

My head felt heavy as I stared at her, barely recognizing her.

"I didn't… Someone deleted my fingerprint and changed the code. I tried calling. No one answered. I wasn't trying to stay out."

Violet rubbed her forehead, looking a little guilty.

"Callum was worried about the workers, so he changed the code."

"Go on, get inside."

I nodded, forced myself up, numb and aching, and headed in.

But just as I was almost in, she called out, "Henderson, we didn't mean it!"

She paused, then added, "But be quiet. Callum was up late. Don't wake him."

Something twisted inside me, but I just nodded.

Then she stopped me again, her face a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Henderson, aren't you gonna make a fuss? That's not like you…"

I forced a bitter smile and looked down. Only people who know they are cared for get to act entitled, knowing someone will take it. That used to be me—taking up space, claiming my spot.

But now, who was I even fighting for?

Ignoring the ache in my bones, I dragged myself to bed and let sleep take me.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, loud music and voices drifted in.

The next thing I knew, Callum was barging into my room and yanking my blanket off.

"Hey, dumbass! Get up! We're celebrating my friendship with Violet and Hazel for 20 days!"

20 days, huh? Guess 20 days were long enough to wipe out our 20 years...