Pain Is a Family Matter

After the Ritualist declared that Amber would not live past 18, I, a perfectly healthy girl, became the Misfortune Vessel.

When Amber broke a leg, my left leg was crippled.

When Amber tried to kill herself with shards of glass, the tendons in my hand were severed. I could no longer hold a pen.

From childhood to the present, every wound meant for Amber landed on my body. She never stopped testing how far she could go.

Skydiving from two miles up. Chasing sharks in deep water. Survival expeditions to the extreme North. Every choice courted death.

I cried. I screamed that it hurt.

My brothers refused to allow it.

"Enough already. It's just a small injury. How could it hurt that much? You're too delicate."

"If it hurts, then endure it."

So I endured until the day I turned 18. That was when the Shared-Sense System found me.

I enabled family sharing, and every single one of them went insane.

The day the Shared-Sense System came looking for me, Amber was 1,000 feet in the air, gripping a steel cable on a via ferrata course.

The wind cut hard enough to make the platform sway. Everyone else who had signed up clutched their safety lanyards like lifelines.

Amber Tandham wore nothing to protect her.

She grinned at her phone, livestream active, waving at the screen as if she were chatting in a warm café instead of hanging over open air. "1,000 feet. No safety gear the whole way."

The comments exploded. Emojis and shrieks of worship flooded the screen.

Amber laughed. "What is there to be scared of? I've got a second life."

She stepped onto the first rung. The metal ladder shuddered beneath her boot. The cable quivered. The space below looked clean and empty, as if the city itself had been erased.

My knees weakened on their own. My legs turned to water. Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.

Ever since my brothers listened to that so-called Ritualist, the one who claimed Amber would not live past 18, they had forced me into the role of her "Misfortune Vessel."

I was a human scapegoat, a doll meant to absorb calamity. Whatever hurt her, the universe collected from me instead.

Amber understood it quickly. After that, she stopped fearing anything. She began hunting danger on purpose, as if sheer defiance could shatter the prophecy. She went skydiving, performed deep-sea stunts, and signed up for survival trips in places no one should survive for fun.

The bolder she became, the larger her following grew. She turned into a minor influencer, famous for being fearless and "blessed."

Her fans called her unkillable.

They had no idea.

When she jumped from two miles in the air, I shattered a leg.

When she chased sharks in deep water, agony tore through my upper arm so violently I thought something had bitten straight through my muscle.

When I begged her to stop, she did not. That night, she cut herself with broken glass, crying loudly enough to throw the whole house into panic.

My brothers responded the way they always did. They locked me in the attic.

Everyone hovered over her for two days and two nights, as if she were the only person in the world who could bleed. They forgot that her injuries always found their way to me. She walked away untouched.

I did not.

I missed treatment. My right hand never fully recovered. Even now, I could not hold a pen steady.

A sharp laugh dragged me back to the present.

My third brother, Rayden Tandham, stood beside me with his hands in his pockets. He watched my legs tremble with open amusement. He lifted a foot and kicked my left shin, right where the old damage never stopped aching.

"Look at Amber, then look at you," he said, contempt thick in his voice. "She's free. She's blazing. And she conquers everything."

He leaned closer, intent on making the words sink in.

"You're a rat in a gutter." After a beat, he added, "Don't ever tell anyone you're my sister."

The kick knocked me sideways. My bad leg buckled. I slammed into the railing and grabbed it with both hands, knuckles whitening as I fought to stay upright.

I stared down at the ground far below Amber's route. The drop made my stomach fold in on itself.

Amber was free and blazing. That part was true. But she built that freedom on my pain.

She tested the edge again and again. Not hers. Mine. It felt as if she would not stop until she finally pushed me over it.

That was when the Shared-Sense System appeared.

I did not see a person. I felt it. A presence slid along my ribs, circled twice, and assessed me like merchandise on a shelf. It clicked its tongue, almost impressed.

"You're the most miserable human I've ever seen," it said. "Want to make a deal? I can transfer your pain to your relatives."

Above us, Amber wobbled on the cable. For the first time during the stunt, her smile looked thin. The wind shoved her. Her foot searched for the rung.

She looked like a butterfly with a torn wing, one bad gust away from falling.

I did not hesitate.

"Fine," I said.

"Who will you bind?" the Shared-Sense System asked.

I looked at Rayden, the brother who had just kicked me.

Then I glanced at my second brother, Nelson Tandham. He stood at the railing in wire-rim glasses, cheering as if this were a sporting event.

Finally, I looked at my eldest brother, Justin Tandham. He was the one who made the decision back then. He was the one who turned me into a human psychic shield.

Choosing felt impossible, so I stopped trying to be fair.

"Can I bind all of them?" I asked. "Every member of my family."

The Shared-Sense System paused, as if the idea were new to it. Then its reply came sharp and satisfied. "Approved. Bound targets: Amber, your eldest brother Justin, your second brother Nelson, your third brother Rayden, and your fourth brother Stefan.

"Activation condition: First pain event reaches 90+. Bound targets will share 30% of your pain.

"Second pain event at 90+: Transfer increases to 65% percent.

"Third pain event: Transfer becomes 100%.

"If you die, the System will randomly select one bound target to die in your place."

High above, Amber's foot slipped. Her body pitched sideways. Her arms flailed for the cable.

The crowd screamed. The livestream shook.

I closed my eyes and forced out two words. "Do it."

Pain hit me like a truck.