Chapter 1

I was born highly sensitive. In my family, I was the fragile princess who couldn't be touched or spoken to without causing a scene.

If there was a tiny thread at the bottom of the new socks my mom bought me, I would scream and cry, refusing to wear them no matter how much she begged.

If my dad spoke just a little too loudly or frowned, I would instantly think he didn't love me anymore. My eyes would fill with tears, and I would sob in deep, dramatic agony.

Even when we went to the amusement park with my little sister, Maya, I would just hide behind Mom, clutching her hem. No matter how hard Maya pulled my hand, I wouldn't budge.

It all built up until Christmas Eve. Mom had cooked a huge, beautiful dinner. I whispered to her that I wanted steak instead of turkey.

Mom, who had always walked on eggshells around my emotions, suddenly snapped. She slammed her new mug onto the floor, shattering it. "Do I owe you my life or something?!"

The sudden, violent noise terrified me. My eyes welled up with tears. Mom walked over, poking her finger hard against my forehead, over and over.

"Cry, cry, cry. That’s all you ever do! Is this whole table of food not good enough for you?"

"Tell me, Christy! What did I ever do to deserve this?"

A wave of pure terror washed over me.

I wanted to tell Mom that I didn't want to cry either. I just couldn't control it.

I didn't need the steak. I would be good. I would eat whatever she wanted.

But before I could open my mouth, my tears poured down. My throat tightened so hard that I couldn't squeeze out a single word.

Seeing me like this, Mom eventually sighed and gave in, like she always did. She grabbed Dad and Maya, telling me they were going to the grocery store to get my steak.

Half an hour later, our neighbor, Samantha, banged on our door. She told me their car had collided with a semi-truck on the way to the store.

All three of them died on the spot.

It was my fault. I killed them.