He was their solace, their joy. I was their phantom, a shadow they actively avoided. The house staff, sensing the family's disdain, treated me with

red, especially, never missed an opportunity to remind me. "You're a blight, Elia,

on, a gaunt, hollow-eyed girl peering back, and wonder why

glect. My hair was a dry, tangled mess, my cheeks sunken. My appearance was a stark con

n head. A vibrant crimson timer, just l

0:24

y, and my countdown had begun. I tried to smile, a weak, trembling c

on my reflection. No friends, no one who ca

ston's extravagant walk-in closet. The irony wasn't lost on me. I used to watch Houston from my attic window, a small, dark figure peering at his boundless joy in

. Houston's bright, clear laugh. He was still home, alo

ut Fredrick watched him with a tenderness I hadn't seen directed at me in years. He knelt, gentl

pping into Fredrick's much larger

f for Fredrick. It took me days, and it was lopsided and full of dropped stitches. I

"What is this, Elia? It looks like a cursed ra

r. The next morning, I found it in the trash, shredded beyond repair. I fished out the tattered pieces, washed them,

fly illuminating the hall. Fredrick and Houston

y voice was a fragile

contrasts. Houston's eyes lit up. "Elia!" he ch

stopped Houston, pulling him slightly behind him, a protective instinct that st

" I asked, my voice trembling. "Just one m

ed. "Yes! A birthday di

nd sharp, sliced through

bled. "Why not?" he asked, his

choed his ques

edrick's stern gaze, remembered some earlier "plans." "Oh, right! We promised to play my new vi

est. I knew there would be no tomorrow for me. But I nodded anyw

sharp as daggers, piercing me. "Stay away from Houston, Elia," he warned, his voice low and