Chapter 4

Jana Doyle POV:

Kyleigh and I were twins. Identical in appearance, yet worlds apart in every other way. From the moment we could distinguish ourselves, Kyleigh resented me. She hated that we shared a birthday, a face, a family. She wanted to be unique, to be singular in her parents' affection. She hated to share anything, a trait that had only festered over the years. My parents' attention, my toys, my clothes-if it was mine, Kyleigh wanted it. If she wanted it, she took it.

In our younger days, Mom and Dad tried to be fair. They' d scold Kyleigh for stealing my favorite doll, or for pushing me off the swing. "Kyleigh, you have your own," they'd say, a touch of exasperation in their voices.

But that all changed five years ago. The kidney donation. The lie. The moment Kyleigh claimed my sacrifice as her own, everything shifted. Suddenly, she was the hero, the fragile angel. I became the selfish, ungrateful twin who had supposedly abandoned her dying father. All their love, all their attention, poured onto Kyleigh.

Any quarrel, any disagreement, was met with instant favoritism for her. "Jana, why are you always picking on Kyleigh? Can't you see she's not well?" my mother would sigh, her voice laced with disappointment. Dad would glare, his eyes accusing. "Leave your sister alone. She's been through enough."

I gave up. The fight had been a long, exhausting one, and I had lost every round. There was no point in trying to argue with Kyleigh, or with them. Their minds were made up, their narrative set in stone. I was the strong one, the one who could take it. Kyleigh was the delicate one, the one who needed saving.

And now, I was going to save her one last time.

The nurse came in, her face gentle but firm. "It's time, Jana. Your surgery is in two hours."

Two hours. That' s all I had left. The poison had seeped into my bones, into the very marrow of my being. My soul, already tattered and bruised, felt like it was ready to shatter, to simply cease to exist. Soon, there would only be an empty shell.

Would they cry for me? Would Axel, my parents, even shed a single tear when they realized I was truly gone? Or would they simply be relieved? Released from the burden of my inconvenient existence? Kyleigh, the family' s precious gem, would finally have them all to herself.

In the pre-op room, the scene was a painful replay of the last few hours. My parents and Axel surrounded Kyleigh, a protective circle of love and concern. Fred, my father, his voice softer than I' d ever heard it, murmured promises of recovery. "You'll be just fine, my angel. Stronger than ever."

Joyce, my mother, her eyes glistening, stroked Kyleigh' s hand. "When you're out, I'll make all your favorite dishes, sweetie. Anything you want."

Axel, his face alight with a fervent hope, pulled a delicate, expensive-looking necklace from his pocket. It shimmered in the fluorescent light. "For you, my love," he whispered, his gaze fixed on Kyleigh. "I'll put it on you myself, the moment you wake up. A symbol of our future."

They were so consumed, so utterly focused on Kyleigh, that they didn' t even glance my way. It was as if I didn' t exist, as if I wasn' t also about to undergo a major surgery, one that would steal my last remaining organ. I thought I was used to it, this constant erasure, but a sharp shard of pain still pierced my heart. A deep, aching sorrow.

I couldn't stop myself. The words spilled out, raw and fragile, a desperate whisper from a dying soul. "What if... what if I don't make it? What if I die on the table?"

My parents froze, their heads snapping towards me as if they' d just remembered I was in the room. A flash of irritation, then embarrassment, crossed Joyce' s face. "Jana! Don't say such morbid things! Don't curse yourself!" she snapped, her voice sharp.

Fred shot me a disapproving look. "Of course, you'll be fine. You're strong, Jana. Much stronger than Kyleigh. You'll bounce back in no time. I'll even cook you that seafood feast you love when you're home." His words were hollow, a transparent attempt to appease me, to shut me up.

Axel stepped forward, taking my hand, his grip surprisingly firm. But his eyes, though filled with a performative tenderness, held no true concern. "You'll be okay, Jana. I promise. And when you wake up, I'll buy you anything you want. Anything at all."

A wave of nausea washed over me. His empty promises, his attempts to buy my silence, my life, with trinkets and false comfort. He was relieved, that' s all. Relieved that his problem was solving itself.

He' ll be glad when I' m gone. The thought was a cold, hard truth.

I looked at them one last time – my mother, my father, Axel – a trio of blind devotion, their gazes fixed on the one they cherished. Then, the orderlies wheeled me away, down the long, antiseptic corridor.

The operating room was bright, shockingly so. I closed my eyes, taking one last, shuddering breath. I felt the prick of the IV, the cold swipe of antiseptic on my skin. Then, the steel of the scalpel, a searing line across my abdomen. My already compromised body, stripped of its last defense, buckled. The poison, rampant in my system, found its perfect opportunity. It raged, consuming whatever life force remained. My bones felt like they were dissolving, my very soul tearing itself apart.

Then, nothing. Silence. Darkness.

Will they regret it? The thought flickered, a dying ember. When they know the truth? That I was the one who saved Dad five years ago? That I lived with their accusations, their neglect, their endless preference for Kyleigh? That I died, giving my last, just for them to continue their charade?

But it wouldn't matter. Not to me. I was done.

If there' s an afterlife, I thought, as the last vestiges of my consciousness faded, I hope I never see any of you again.