They All Voted for My Death Then I Came Back Reborn Chapter 04

They All Voted for My Death Then I Came Back Reborn Chapter 04

After I selected NO, something inside me finally went still.

I sat quietly against the locked door and listened to my mom lower her voice in the living room.

“Why is there still a whole day left?”

Richard answered, “It’s already happening as fast as it can.”

My mom sighed.

“It still feels too slow. Every extra minute Claire has to wait over there hurts me.”

Strangely, her words did not hurt anymore.

The weight that had been pressing on my chest for years seemed to loosen at last.

I even began counting down the remaining hours with an eerie sense of calm.

Later that morning, my mom came to me with a bakery catalog.

“Help me choose one.”

I pointed to a white cake with scalloped frosting.

Then she handed me a box of multicolored birthday candles.

“You can choose these too.”

I took out eight candles, counted them carefully, and lined them up neatly on the table.

My mom went still.

Claire had died when she was eight.

Her eyes reddened as she looked at me with an expression I could not read.

I asked calmly, “Is this cake for my farewell, or is it to welcome Claire home?”

She quickly turned her face away, though her fingers had begun to tremble.

“Don’t say things like that.”

That afternoon, Richard started clearing out my room.

My journals, collectibles, and award certificates all went into black trash bags.

My mom replaced my bedding with pale pink sheets.

“Claire always liked this color.”

They carried out my desk and brought in Claire’s old easel.

Dust filled the air. I coughed until my chest hurt.

My mom glanced back at me.

“Don’t breathe in too much dust.”

She hesitated, then added, “We can’t have you getting sick before the exchange.”

I pulled one of my journals from a trash bag.

My mom immediately pressed her hand over it.

“Don’t keep any of this. It might upset Claire when she sees it.”

I let go.

The sticker on the cover caught against the edge of the bag and tore with a faint ripping sound.

Mason arrived near sunset with a notebook in his hand.

“Anna, could you write down a few things about me?”

His voice was hoarse.

“Like the fact that my stomach can’t handle cold drinks. And I don’t like anyone touching my laptop.”

My own throat felt painfully dry.

“You want her to learn about you from my notes, take my place, and love you the way I did?”

His eyes turned red.

“I just don’t want her to have trouble adjusting.”

I took the pen and wrote down every detail exactly as he dictated it.

I felt nothing.

Then my dad handed me my debit card.

“How much do you have saved?”

My mom spoke quietly beside him. “Claire will need clothes and new paperwork when she comes back. There will be a lot of expenses.”

The account held everything I had earned from part-time jobs, scholarship money, and whatever I had managed to save from my living expenses.

Without hesitating, I transferred the entire balance to my mom.

The moment the confirmation appeared, I closed the banking app.

When my mom saw the transfer notification, her eyes softened for a second.

“Anna, you’re finally doing the right thing.”

With two hours remaining, they made me record a video statement.

My dad handed me a script.

[My name is Anna. I voluntarily consent to the exchange. I have not been threatened or coerced. Please do not blame my family. Claire, welcome home.]

My mom held up her phone.

“Smile. Don’t let anyone realize something is wrong.”

Mason stood beside her, his throat working.

“Mrs. Whitmore, maybe we shouldn’t…”

Tears spilled down my mom’s face.

“What are we supposed to say when people ask where Anna went? Do you want everyone blaming Claire the moment she comes home?”

Mason fell silent again.

I looked into the camera and forced a smile.

The muscles in my face ached from the strain.

“My name is Anna. I voluntarily consent to the exchange. Please do not blame my family.”

I paused.

“Claire, welcome home. But I don’t want this family anymore.”

My mom’s expression changed.

“Delete it. Record it again.”

The Exchange app suddenly lit up on its own.

[Don’t… make her record it. Mom, I don’t want to come home like this.]

The living room fell silent.

Then another line slowly appeared.

[Do you really remember what I was like?]