Everyone in my family could see the death countdown above my older sister Tabitha’s head. They all believed she would die on her sixteenth birthday, so every bit of love, food, clothing, and attention went to her first.I was the forgotten daughter—the one who wore her old clothes, ate her leftovers, and was called jealous whenever I cried.But on the night before Tabitha’s birthday, I was the one burning with fever. My parents locked me in the storage room so I would not ruin her final night. I begged them to open the door, but they thought I was pretending.By morning, Tabitha survived.And when my parents finally opened the storage room, they found me dead inside.
