After I died, not a single one in my
family went crazy
Chapter 1
Three years after they brought me home, I
jumped.
My ghost was floating there, hoping to see my
mom and dad, and even my annoying older
brother, finally break down, wishing they’d
treated me better.
But Dad just shook his head, like I was some
kind of screw–up. He actually called it
“childish,” right there staring at my dead body.
Mom just kind of pursed her lips and let out this
little sigh, like a weight had finally been lifted.
And Mark, my brother, he just stood there,
blocking the view for Brittany, the girl they’d
raised as their own. He didn’t want her to see
く
what I had done.
Brittany, of course, started crying anyway, and
suddenly everyone was tripping over themselves
to hug her and make her feel better.
I just stood there for a long time, a little smile
creeping across my face as I realized how
pathetic it all was.
Then I blinked, and BAM, I was back. Back to
the day they picked me up.
1
I sat there for what felt like forever, just trying
to process what was happening. My folks were
in front of me, all red–eyed, going on and on
about how much they missed me all those years
and how sorry they were.
“Ten years, honey! We’ve been thinking about
you every single day!”
<
Last time, I’d totally bought it. I’d cried my eyes
out and jumped right into their arms, thinking,
“Finally, I have a family. Finally, someone loves
me!”
Yeah, right. Fast forward three years, and I was
practically begging them for scraps of affection
before going full crazy and taking a swan dive
out of the second–story window.
