When I was 17,I survived a near-fatal car accident that turned my world upside down.My brother,determined to help me heal,had heard about a powerful amulet from a local legend.Without hesitation,he trekked up the steep hill to the old chapel,kneeling to pray at each step.When he returned,he brought me a necklace—a symbol of his unwavering belief that it would protect me on my journey to recovery.
Coincidence or divine intervention,the day after he gave it to me,I woke up from my coma.
Now,standing on the brink of death,that necklace lay shattered.
My brother died a month after giving it to me.He was a firefighter who sacrificed himself to save a little girl.
That girl was Chelsea.
She survived that night because of my brother’s sacrifice,yet her family never thanked him.Her mother even said,“It’s his duty as a firefighter.I won’t be guilt-tripped into gratitude.”
Now,the same girl whose life my brother saved was living in my house,destroying his last gift to me.
That necklace could never be repaired—just like my brother could never be brought back.Just like how I couldn’t escape my fate of dying before 27.
“I didn’t mean it…I’m really sorry…”Chelsea whimpered.
"Get out!"