1 When the fire broke out, Mom grabbed my little sister, and Dad hoisted my older brother onto his back. They ran. They left me behind in the flames. My face was burned. And just like that, the demanding, attention-seeking child I once was… disappeared. I was dying anyway. Let them have the scraps of love I no longer wanted. But then they regretted it. They held my thin, scarred hand and begged, "Please, just throw one more tantrum for us. Please?" Mom held my sister, Maya, close. Dad carried my brother, Leo, on his back. They burst out of the burning house and clung to each other, sobbing with relief. “Is there anyone else inside?” a firefighter yelled, rushing toward them. Mom spun around, her eyes frantically scanning her children. She pointed to my brother and sister. “Leo and Maya. Both of them are here. They’re all here!” “Are you sure?” the firefighter pressed. But Mom’s world had shrunk to just the two of them. She didn’t answer, just kept murmuring, “They’re safe, they’re safe,” pulling them into an even tighter hug. That’s when I stumbled out of the house, my hand over my mouth, coughing. Her words made me feel like a pathetic joke. My body was covered in soot, my clothes in tatters. They, having escaped early, were practically untouched. The strength that had gotten me out of the house evaporated. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground. A searing pain shot through my back. My name is Clara. But I’ve always been the extra one. 2 “Leo, stop tickling me!” Once the initial shock wore off, Maya and Leo started playing, their laughter a small comfort to my distraught parents. But then Maya tripped, and her hand landed directly on the raw, open burn on my back. “Ah!” I screamed. I could feel the freshly dressed wound tear open, blood seeping through the bandages. Maya scrambled to her feet, hiding behind Leo, her dark eyes wide with fear. “Clara!” Mom’s voice was sharp with reprimand. “Stop throwing a fit! Why did you yell at your sister?” Her gaze landed on my face, and she flinched, a look of disgust flashing in her eyes. It was the burns, I knew. And she thought I was faking because her attention had been so focused on the other two that she hadn't even seen the firefighters tending to my back. She never saw me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I ran to the edge of the lawn and sobbed, my cries echoing in the night. They all fell silent. When I finally quieted down, Mom came over, holding Maya’s hand. She reached for mine. I flinched away. Her hand froze in mid-air. “Clara, please try to understand,” she said, her voice weary. “It’s not that we don’t love you. It’s just… Leo is in the middle of a big promotion at work, and Maya is so young…” I looked at her through my tears. “Can’t you just be the sensible one, for once?” I had to laugh. It was so absurd. The sensible one. The one who was always expected to make do with the leftovers. Seeing me laugh, Mom must have thought I was over it. She grabbed my hand and placed it on top of Maya’s. “There, that’s better. Now, say you’re sorry to your sister, and we can all move on. We’re a family, after all.” Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were fixed on Maya, cooing and comforting her. I snatched my hand back. Mom’s face hardened. “I have three children,” she said, her words like daggers, “and you’re the only one who turned out so spoiled.” She scooped Maya into her arms and walked away. Spoiled. Demanding. That’s what they called me. I used to fight for their attention, for every scrap of affection. I knew if I didn’t, I would get nothing at all. But now… I was dying. I had an illness they didn’t know about. I was done fighting. 3 Our house was gone. We needed a new place to live. “Finding a place for a family of five is going to be tough,” Dad said. “We’ll have to split up for a while. We can take two of the kids, but we’ll have to send one to stay with relatives.” All eyes turned to me. I just smiled a bitter smile. The old me would have thrown a massive tantrum, would have cried and screamed until they gave in. But Leo and Maya never had to scream to get what they wanted. This time, I didn't make a scene. I just nodded and took a step back. “I’ll go,” I said, my voice hoarse. They all looked surprised, but no one argued. So I was sent to live with my uncle. Life there was a tightrope walk. At first, they were kind. But soon, the smiles faded, replaced by cold, hard stares. It didn’t matter that I woke up early to do all the chores, or that I collected cans to earn a little money to give to them. Nothing I did was ever enough. One afternoon, I overheard them talking. “When is she leaving?” my aunt asked. “Just a few more days,” my uncle sighed. “I can’t stand it. She… she smells. Every time I talk to her, I feel like I need to take a shower. And another mouth to feed… it’s a lot of pressure.” I looked down at my clothes. They wouldn’t let me use the shower, afraid I’d use too much hot water. That night, at dinner, I forced a smile. “Uncle, I think I’d be more comfortable in the basement. And I can just make my own meals from now on.” They looked at each other, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in their faces eased. “Here, Clara,” my aunt said, placing a piece of chicken on my plate. “You’re too thin. You need to eat.” 4 The basement was freezing. The wind whistled through the cracks in the door, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my burns. I wrapped myself in a threadbare blanket, my body shaking. I hadn’t had anything to drink all day. The thirst was unbearable. I crept upstairs. A stray cat was lapping at a puddle of dirty water on the floor. I hesitated, then knelt beside it. When you’re dying of thirst, dignity doesn’t seem so important. The water was cold and sweet. When I stood up, I saw my brother, Leo, standing there, his face a mask of cold fury. He had been watching me. He was the last person I expected to see. I tried to run, to hide, but he grabbed my arm. “We’re going home. It’s New Year’s Eve.” I shrank away, terrified he would smell the stench of the basement on me. But he just tightened his grip. “Let’s go.” I found myself in front of their new home, a charming two-story house with a small yard. They weren’t struggling financially. So why couldn’t they have taken me with them? I hesitated at the door. Inside, I could hear them laughing, my parents calling Maya their “sweet baby girl.” I didn’t belong here. “Where’s Clara?” Maya asked suddenly. The laughter stopped. “She burned our house down,” my mother’s voice was like ice. “She’s lucky we’re even letting her come for dinner. When she gets here, we’re going to give her a piece of our minds.” I looked at Leo in disbelief. “You were there. You know it was Maya who started the fire…” “Shut up!” he hissed, his voice low and threatening. I flinched, my body tensing. I had become so sensitive to anger, to any hint of disapproval. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Maya is fragile,” he said, his voice a little softer. “Don’t make a scene. Does it really matter who started it?” It mattered to me. But I just nodded. “I won’t say anything.” He seemed to relax. “Come on, let’s go eat.” I shook my head. “Can you give me some money? I need to buy medicine.” His face hardened again. “Is that all you ever think about? You finally come home, and the first thing you do is ask for money?” He pulled a few bills from his wallet and threw them at me. I knelt to pick them up, my face impassive. “Is that it?” he sneered. “I humiliate you like that, and you don’t even fight back?” The old me would have. But I was tired. I just wanted to leave. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. My period had started, and I had just drunk dirty, cold water. “Can I have a glass of hot water?” I begged, my voice trembling. “Please?” Seeing me so weak, a smirk played on his lips. He said nothing, just turned and went inside, slamming the door behind him. “She’s not coming,” I heard him announce. The pain was overwhelming. I collapsed onto the cold steps, and the world went black. Vaguely, through the haze, I thought I saw their horrified faces. 5 I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the sight of a white ceiling. A nurse smiled at me. “You’re awake.” “Who brought me here?” I asked. “Your family,” she said. My heart twisted. They had brought me to the hospital. The nurse hesitated, then patted my hand and left. I lay there, tears streaming down my face, until I fell back asleep. Later, I heard the nurse whispering to a colleague. “It’s so sad. Their other kid wanted to go out to eat, so they just left her here. Who does that?” The pain in my chest was worse than the pain in my back. I thought I didn’t care anymore. Why did it still hurt so much? 6 That night, they brought me leftovers from the restaurant. “Clara, we brought you food!” Maya chirped, running toward my bed. I quickly lifted my arm, moving the IV out of her way. They all froze. I knew what they were thinking. There she goes again, being difficult. I forced a smile and took the food. “Thank you. I’m starving.” The food was cold, but it tasted like heaven. When I was done, I huddled under the blanket. “Thank you for bringing me to the hospital,” I said, trying to sound as cheerful and grateful as I could. They exchanged glances and left without a word. “It’s like she’s trying to make us feel guilty,” I heard Leo mutter as he slammed the door. I flinched and pulled the blanket over my head.
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