Ethan threw away his pride. Face flushed red, he dropped to his knees before Mom.

"Mom, I'll give you all my allowance. Please don't send my sister away."

He pressed his forehead to the floor, kowtowing again and again. Before long, the skin on his forehead had broken open.

This time, Mom couldn't hold back her expression. She laughed.

To me, that laugh looked twisted beyond recognition.

"Ethan, it's good that you know you were wrong. But only a real lesson will make you remember it—so you never dare make that mistake again."

"Rita, take his sister away."

I couldn't hold on anymore. I was dragged into the car.

The moment we got in, Rita stuffed a rag into my mouth.

I tried to struggle, but she slapped me across the face, impatient.

"Your own mother doesn't want you. Move again and I'll throw you out of this car—let you live as a little beggar!"

I didn't want to be a dirty beggar. I didn't dare move.

"Lily! Lily!"

I looked back. Ethan was chasing the car like a madman, running so hard one of his shoes flew off, but he didn't stop.

Not until he tripped and fell, and couldn't keep up anymore.

Rita didn't actually take me far. She pulled me toward a building that had been half-demolished before construction stopped.

Everything around it was empty. Everyone had moved out.

Rita dragged me upward. I walked carefully, placing each step lightly, trying not to look at the walls that had half-disappeared.

"Relax. It's only half torn down, but it's still concrete. You can live here."

Rita hurried me along with a look of disgust.

Actually, this place was only one street away from my home.

I tried hard to memorize the way back, thinking I'd run home when she wasn't paying attention.

Rita took me up to the third floor and locked me in the only room that was still mostly intact.

"You'll stay here for a few days. I left food inside—eat when you're hungry. If you need to use the bathroom, just find a spot. I'll come get you after I'm done playing mahjong."

She seemed like she wanted to say something else, but call after call kept interrupting her.

"You need a fourth? I'm on my way!"

Rita shut the door, locked it casually, and hurried off.

The room had nothing in it except a table and a bed.

On the table sat a few small bread rolls. On the bed lay a dirty blanket.

I didn't want to stay here.

I tried to reach the door handle and found the lock was broken. It couldn't actually hold the door shut.

After struggling all afternoon, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

By moonlight, I walked toward where I remembered the stairs being.

It was too dark in here. I stepped on something—I don't know what—and my foot slipped out from under me.

I didn't even have time to scream. Pain tore through me, and everything went black.

Then I floated up.

I saw myself lying there, my neck twisted at an impossible angle.

So dying was that easy.

I looked around, lost. With nowhere else to go, I went home.

It was dinnertime. Mom was humming while she cooked.

She was making stir-fried beef with scallions—Ethan's favorite.

Beside it sat dishes already finished: braised fish for my sister, braised eggplant for Dad, scrambled eggs with tomatoes for Mom.

Nothing I liked.

I stood next to Mom. She seemed to be in a good mood.

My leaving was apparently just a small thing to her.

"Mom."

I called out softly, wanting her to know I'd come back like a good girl. Could she hug me? Or just smile at me? Today had really, really hurt.

But Mom couldn't see me at all.

The living can't see the dead.

Dad walked into the kitchen and glanced at Ethan, who sat stiffly at the table.

"Don't you think you went too far? Ethan wouldn't even talk to me today. He was shaking the whole time, and his head's bleeding."

Mom's eyebrow arched. I flinched.

I knew that look. Whenever she made that face, I was the one who ended up paying for it.

She tossed the spatula down, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, so now I don't know how to raise kids? Being a stepmother is so hard. Haven't I been good to your son? That cut on his forehead? He did that to himself—banged his head on purpose. I didn't lay a finger on him!"

Then came Dad's endless apologies.

But Mom only grew more aggrieved.

"We agreed from the start to treat each other's children the same. Tell me—have I ever skimped on feeding him or clothing him?"

Dad sighed. In a family like theirs, keeping things fair was nearly impossible.

"You're good to my son, and I'm good to your daughter, aren't I? That five-thousand-dollar summer camp—I paid it without blinking."

I crouched nearby, listening to them list all the ways they'd been good to my brother and sister.

Jealousy gnawed at me. Why couldn't I be them? Wasn't I their child too? Why did they only care about each other's kids?

They'd never treated me that way.

"I keep feeling like we've let Lily down. Have we been too hard on her? She's not being mistreated at Rita's, is she?"

I looked up at Dad.

Dad, I was hurt. They cut open my stomach. It hurts so much.

Whenever Ethan or Chloe were wronged, Mom and Dad stood up for them. Maybe this time, they'd stand up for me?

Mom scoffed.

"What's she lacking? Food? Clothes? I just asked her to stay somewhere else for a few nights, and she threw a fit like I was abandoning her forever."

But Mom, I really was cut to pieces and thrown away.

She pulled out her phone to call Rita. It rang for a long time before anyone picked up.

"Hello? Rita? What's all that noise? The kid wants to eat out? Rita, you spoil her too much."

"You're taking her back to your hometown for a few days? Sure, I'll leave her in your hands. I'll come pick her up soon and thank you properly!"

I paced in frantic circles.

"Mom, that woman's lying! She went to play mahjong. She's not watching me at all. Why would I be out eating with anyone?"

Mom believed every word.

She hung up and slammed the spatula against the wok.

"These kids are going to be the death of me. At least this one's ours—I can actually discipline her. If she were like her brother and sister, I'd lose ten years off my life!"

Dad thought for a moment, a hint of worry in his voice.

"You don't think something's wrong, do you? That she's in some kind of trouble?"

Mom waved him off.

"What trouble? Rita's from my hometown. She'll take good care of her. If you ask me, that girl's having the time of her life!"

But Mom, your hometown friend isn't exactly reliable.

My family was strange.

Ethan was Dad's son. Chloe was Mom's daughter.

After they married, they had me.

They'd both been through marriages that left scars. Dad's first wife got sick—really sick—and killed herself so she wouldn't be a burden. Mom's first husband died in a truck accident on a rainy night, trying to earn more money for the family.

Both of them died when the love was still raw.

Mom and Dad didn't marry for love. They married so their children could have a complete family.

On the wall hung a framed piece of calligraphy. It read: Treat them as your own.

Mom and Dad only had eyes for each other's kids.

If you buy my daughter a new dress today, I'll get your son new shoes tomorrow. However good you are to my child, I'll be just as good to yours.

Perfectly balanced.

They hadn't planned on having another baby.

But as Ethan and Chloe got older, they developed minds of their own. They weren't afraid of their biological parents anymore—they were getting out of control.

Mom could manage Ethan. Dad could handle Chloe. That was the only way to get them to listen.

Being a stepparent is hard. You can't discipline too harshly, not unless you want people calling you an abuser.

I can't come down hard on my stepkid, but surely I can do it to my own flesh and blood.

That's the kind of thinking I was born into.

Even my name was a reminder for them to treat each other's children well.

Lily Harper.

A surname from each parent. A lazy, thoughtless name.

I was their second child together, sandwiched between Ethan and Chloe like the filling in a cookie—present, but easily overlooked.

They'd already gotten used to loving the older two more. What was left for me was barely anything at all.

But whenever Ethan or Chloe messed up? I was the one who got screamed at. Hit.

The louder I cried, the longer they'd behave.

Mom called it "killing the chicken to scare the monkeys."

But I wasn't a chicken. I was a person.

Mom brought dinner to the table. Ethan's face was pale, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold his chopsticks.

He must have told Chloe what happened. She sat as far from Mom as possible, trembling.

They were both terrified.

Mom didn't see it that way. She thought her discipline had worked beautifully—both kids were finally obedient.

She served everyone rice and gave them their favorite dishes.

Ethan used to throw tantrums, refusing to eat anything Mom put on his plate. She'd have to coax him into every bite.

Not this time. He ate everything she gave him without a word. Even the foods he hated—he swallowed them without hesitation.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look, satisfied smiles spreading across their faces.

I heard Mom whisper to Dad:

"If I'd known sending Lily away would make them behave, I would've done it years ago."

Dad nodded in agreement.

I floated nearby, staring at the food on the table, feeling nothing at their words.

I was already dead. What did it matter?

At mealtimes, I was never allowed to take any of Ethan or Chloe's favorite dishes.

If I grabbed even one bite, their portions would be short, and Mom and Dad would fight over whose kid was being cheated.

It violated their sacred rule of fairness.

So I only ever ate what they didn't want.

Now they didn't have to worry anymore. The balance would never tip again.

A scene I'd witnessed countless times suddenly felt unbearable. I couldn't watch anymore.

I drifted back to find my body.

The blood had dried. Everything around me was pitch black. I had no idea when—or if—anyone would discover I was dead.

I wandered aimlessly for a while before heading home.

When I got back, Ethan and Chloe were both crying, begging Mom.

"Mom, we'll be good. Please bring her back, okay?"

Ethan held out his piggy bank.

"Mom, you can have all my savings. My New Year's money is in there too. Is this enough to get that lady to send her home?"

He looked up at Mom, eyes full of hope.

Dad sighed and turned to Mom.

"Maybe we should—"

He was about to suggest bringing me back. But Mom had finally gotten the two of them under control. She wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.

She wanted to break them in properly.