The Dream That Killed Me Chapter 01

The Dream That Killed Me Chapter 01

My arm, too weak to hold on, knocked over a glass.

The crash rang out, sharp and clean.

The footsteps that had already faded grew loud again, coming back toward the bathroom door.

The next second, the door shuddered under a kick.

Then came my father’s voice, furious.

“You just can’t stand to see your sister happy, can you?”

“You had to pick today of all days to make a scene?”

Claire’s eyes had gone red, her voice catching.

“Dad… please stop.”

My mother pulled her into a hug, then turned toward the door, her tone sharpening.

“Lily. Can you not, for once, behave?”

I really didn’t mean it. But no one believed me.

They say the last sense to fade before death is hearing.

Maybe that’s true—My dilated pupils could no longer make out the ceiling, yet my ears distinctly caught Mother comforting Claire.

Mom. Dad. If it were me who was going to die — would you love me that much too?

The only answer was another, harder kick against the door.

My mother held him back, murmuring, “That’s enough. Claire can’t take the shock — you’ll frighten her.”

“Besides, the gala’s about to start. We’re running late.”

The pounding stopped instantly.

Through the door, my father lowered his voice, dropping the words on me like scraps.

“Consider yourself lucky. If it weren’t for the time, I’d really teach you a lesson.”

My mother spoke again, softer.

“Lily, be good.”

“I’ll let you out later.”

She paused, like there was more she wanted to say.

Claire coughed. My mother left without finishing the thought.

“Lily. Once I’m back, once today’s over, I’ll bring you whatever cake you want tomorrow.”

But Mom, I stopped being able to eat cake a long time ago.

And after today, I never would again.

The prophetic dream was our family’s secret.

Years ago, it had helped my father dodge a crisis at his company and take it public. So they believed in it completely.

At first, the dream only meant I had to stop being wild, to calm down.

But at one birthday party, I’d smeared cake on Claire’s cheek with my messy hand, just being silly—I wanted to make her laugh.

Instead she went pale and fainted on the spot.

I panicked and ran for my parents. What met me instead was a wine glass flying at my face.

My father grabbed me and shoved me down onto broken glass.

A sharp, tearing pain spread across my back.

Wet. Warm.

Blood soaked into the wood floor almost instantly.

My father held Claire. My mother called for a doctor.

No one so much as glanced at me.

But I saw Claire, cradled in my father’s arms, smile at me.

I froze.

Then I was locked in the basement. Three days and three nights.

The wound got infected. I passed out from hunger. I nearly died.

When they finally let me out, the walls were covered—three thousand rules, every single one about me.

I thought they’d lost their minds. They thought I was trying to hurt Claire on purpose.

I tried to explain. No one listened.

Then they added another rule.

Next they threw me in the basement again—the one full of snakes, the thing I feared most—while upstairs, they served my own dog for dinner.

I finally learned to behave.

Then a classmate gave me a tiny cupcake for my birthday.

I couldn’t help myself.

It had been so long since anyone had cared about me. I wanted to be loved.

I ate it.

That day became my nightmare.

My father found out—he’d been watching my every move—afraid I’d hurt Claire somewhere he couldn’t see.

Ever since that dream, I’d been the family’s sinner. And a sinner doesn’t deserve cake, even on her own birthday.

He made me drink dish soap right there, then drove me to the hospital that night to have my stomach pumped.

I lay in the hospital bed, pale as paper.

He looked at me without a shred of warmth.

“I guess you still hadn’t learned your lesson.”

“You’re a curse on this family. Cake? You think you’ve earned that?”

The next day, he pulled me out of school.

After that, I had no friends left. All I did, every day, was learn the rules.

The sight of anything sweet only made me nauseous, made me want to throw up.

But from then on, I was truly, completely obedient.