Love, Lies, and a Fatal Countdown

Love, Lies, and a Fatal Countdown

Gavin

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I was born with a curse. That' s what my family called my ability to see the exact moment someone would die, a ticking red countdown above their heads. It started with Grandpa at the dinner table. "00:23:14" blinked above his head, then Dad, a year later, gone in a car crash. My mom was next, delivering my baby sister, Lily. "00:01:00" flashed as I hammered on the delivery room door, screaming for help. They died. All of them. And my family, my three older brothers, Liam, Ethan, and Noah, didn't see a grieving sister. They saw a monster. "You killed her," Liam spat, shoving me against the hospital wall after Mom' s death. "Just like you killed Dad and Grandpa." Ethan and Noah watched, their faces twisted with disgust as I crumpled to the floor. I wanted to explain, to scream that I tried to warn them, but the words were stuck. They left me there, abandoned at the hospital, taking their "miracle" sister, Lily, home. My childhood ended that day, replaced by a ghost-like existence in my own home. I lived in the attic, fed scraps, ignored by everyone while Lily was showered with love and affection. I just watched, an invisible scapegoat for their grief. But today, my eighteenth birthday, everything changed. I finally saw it-the blank space above my head, always empty, now glowed a stark, vibrant red. "24:00:00." My own countdown. A whole day. How generous. I bought a beautiful, white urn with a hand-painted lily. A small, bitter joke. I made them a farewell dinner, a feast of all their favorite foods, hoping they'd come, just once. But the house remained silent, empty. No one came. I called Liam, a desperate confession: "I\'m going to die. My countdown... it\'s almost at zero." He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You\'re still trying that trick? You think saying you\'re going to die is going to make us forgive you?" He hung up, leaving me in the crushing silence, alone with my cold feast and my relentless ticking clock.

Introduction

I was born with a curse.

That' s what my family called my ability to see the exact moment someone would die, a ticking red countdown above their heads.

It started with Grandpa at the dinner table. "00:23:14" blinked above his head, then Dad, a year later, gone in a car crash.

My mom was next, delivering my baby sister, Lily. "00:01:00" flashed as I hammered on the delivery room door, screaming for help.

They died. All of them. And my family, my three older brothers, Liam, Ethan, and Noah, didn't see a grieving sister.

They saw a monster.

"You killed her," Liam spat, shoving me against the hospital wall after Mom' s death. "Just like you killed Dad and Grandpa."

Ethan and Noah watched, their faces twisted with disgust as I crumpled to the floor.

I wanted to explain, to scream that I tried to warn them, but the words were stuck.

They left me there, abandoned at the hospital, taking their "miracle" sister, Lily, home.

My childhood ended that day, replaced by a ghost-like existence in my own home.

I lived in the attic, fed scraps, ignored by everyone while Lily was showered with love and affection.

I just watched, an invisible scapegoat for their grief.

But today, my eighteenth birthday, everything changed.

I finally saw it-the blank space above my head, always empty, now glowed a stark, vibrant red.

"24:00:00." My own countdown.

A whole day. How generous.

I bought a beautiful, white urn with a hand-painted lily. A small, bitter joke.

I made them a farewell dinner, a feast of all their favorite foods, hoping they'd come, just once.

But the house remained silent, empty.

No one came.

I called Liam, a desperate confession: "I\'m going to die. My countdown... it\'s almost at zero."

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You\'re still trying that trick? You think saying you\'re going to die is going to make us forgive you?"

He hung up, leaving me in the crushing silence, alone with my cold feast and my relentless ticking clock.

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My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.

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