I died in the room of my grandmother's crumbling house, buried by the heavy snow, as if I had never been there.
My pants, too short to cover my ankles, left my chilblains exposed, and my tattered clothes told me exactly that I never had the chance to wear something new and decent.
My soul drifted over three hundred kilometers away, where the city lights were vibrant and dazzling.
That's where my parents and brother lived.
The whole city was aglow, eagerly awaiting the stroke of midnight.
Oh, Christmas was near.
Unknowingly, my soul had wandered into my brother's room, which was adorned festively.
My mother proudly showed off the new clothes and shoes she had bought for him, along with a pile of beautifully wrapped gifts.
Several sets, so he didn't even have to wait until midnight to wear something new.
But my brother, engrossed in his game, merely gave a fleeting glance, without a word.
Whether out of boredom or anger, my mother set the clothes down and cursed me in the direction of my grandmother's house.
"That brat, never calls home even during the holidays. She's always been the coldest in the family."
My soul stood watching her, helpless.
I could see them, but couldn't touch them, and they couldn't hear me.
My father clicked his tongue impatiently, "It's the holidays, don't bring up bothersome stuff."
The atmosphere turned lively again, the snow casting a merry glow on the Christmas tree by the window.
But they didn't know that the one they always despised had completely departed this world.
I'd never trouble them again.
If they learned of my death, would they regret abandoning me?
Five months ago, my parents took their divorce to court.
In court, they clung to my little brother, refusing to let go, while subtly pushing me aside.
My brother's down jacket was nearly torn in their struggle. His small hands, wrapped in woolen gloves, covered his ears, looking utterly aggrieved.
“I don’t want to choose! I don’t want to choose!”
Wearing just a thin coat, I stomped my feet, wishing I could shrink into the background.
I absentmindedly scratched the itchy frostbite on my hand, feeling like an outsider.
Mom half-hugged my brother’s arm, stubbornly holding on.
“I don’t want Sol to end up like Stella, looking like a beggar every day. He has to stay with me.”
Dad pulled my brother’s hand back, equally stubborn.
“You don’t want Stella, so what happens to her? Why should I be the one to take her?”
Mom wasn’t backing down either. “Stella is old enough to take care of herself. Do you think she’ll just die if I don’t take her?”
The judge sighed.
I’m Stella, and my brother is Sol.
Just like the sky, there are many stars, but only one sun. Where the sun is, no one sees the stars.
That’s my life.
After some discussion, they reached an agreement.
Mom would take Sol on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday; Dad would take him on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday; on Sunday, they’d both have him.
And me?
Dad hesitantly turned to me, “What about you, Stella?”
Their words were unclear, but their eyes were full of threats.
They seemed to hope I’d maturely give them an answer that wouldn’t force a choice.
Watching their happy family of three, I touched my face, chapped from the cold.
“Can you lend me a hundred dollars? I’m sick.”
Mom’s brows furrowed sharply, her voice no longer as gentle as when she spoke to my brother.
“Are you obsessed with money? We’re going through a divorce, and all you care about is money. How heartless are you?”
Dad was just as irritated.
“What kind of sickness needs a hundred dollars? So young, and already scamming for money?”
I also wish this was all just to scam them for a hundred dollars.
But cancer doesn’t lie. It really can kill me.