She was supposed to be my bone marrow donor. My own blood. The one person who could save me. But she dangled it like a trophy, a game I was always losing.
...
That evening I looked in the mirror. Pale. Weak. I might not even have the strength to stand soon. That’s when I made a decision.
I needed one last picture. A photo for my funeral. So even if Fredrinn forgot my face, he’d see me once more. Alive. Smiling. Me.
“Miss, you’ve got a really graceful face. ID? Graduation?”
I stared straight into the camera. My voice was calm, but inside I was already gone. “For my funeral.”
The guy’s hands shook, like he wasn’t sure how to react. I didn’t explain. I just let the flash blind me, told myself this would be the one on my coffin.
When I went to wait for the copy, I froze. Laughter at the front door. That low chuckle. His voice. And her high-pitched giggle.
I turned. They were walking in, arm in arm, like some happy couple.
“Lesley? Why are you here?” she said, fake shock.
I tucked the photo in my pocket. “Just took one for my ID. What about you two?” My voice stayed steady.
She leaned on him, soft and sweet. “Photo albums are important for couples. We took a few days ago, now we’re picking them up.”
Fredrinn glanced at me. “She begged. I only went along. Once you’re better, we can make our own album.”
My chest tightened. I nodded, said nothing.
Staff called them over to pick photos. I tried to slip out. My twin grabbed my wrist. “Lesley, help us choose. You’ve got better taste than me.”
Before I could react, she dragged me to the computer. There they were.
Photo after photo. Holding hands. Smiling like they belonged. Sunset behind them as they kissed. Him hugging her from behind in matching white.
Every image stabbed me. My throat felt tight.
“Pick a good one, Lesley. Which looks happiest?” she chirped, sharp and fake.
I couldn’t speak. Then a loud crash shook the room. Shelves toppled.
Fredrinn lunged at her, covering her body instantly.
Meanwhile, a sharp corner of a metal shelf hit my shoulder. I screamed, pain ripping through me. Blood soaking my blouse.
“Fredrinn, it hurts!” My twin wailed, clutching her tiny graze.
He panicked. “You’re bleeding. We need a hospital.” He swept her into his arms, running toward the door.
He looked at me for a second, trapped under the shelf, blood pooling around me. Our eyes met. One, two seconds. Then he looked away and left.