The Scapegoat Daughter

to my father, I was forced to relive not just my death,

peanut allergy, something my mother always used to be so careful about. Bu

already starting to feel

plate. "Ethan loved Pad Th

I pleaded. "I coul

n. "Don't be so dramatic, Chloe. You're not the center

," I whispered,

en you'll finally understand the pain you put us thr

silent, watching me. His

ld feel my throat closing up. I fumbled for my EpiPen, my vision starting to b

hile they continued to eat. They didn't even l

e paramedics came, their faces a mixture of concern and confusion as th

he shame I felt as I had to explain to t

, trying to protect them. Trying to ma

hospital hours later, it wasn't

d feel his fingers digging into my bone. "You called an ambulanc

t breathe,

eyes filled with venom. "You did it f

for Ethan's death. It was that they wished I had died instead. My life w

e photos of my dismembered body. And I knew, with a chilling certainty, that he felt more for the