the countdown in her eyes 1

Chapter 1 

I could see the countdown ticking above my family’s heads, so they always treated me like I was cursed. 

I told them when Grandpa would die, when Dad would die, and even when Mom’s time would come. Each time, it happened just like I said–some weird accident, all in a single day. 

After that, my three brothers could barely look at me. They believed I’d doomed our family, blamed me for everything, and made sure I knew it. 

But my little sister–the one Mom died giving birth to–grew up with all the love I never got. My brothers called her their lucky star. Ever since she arrived, it was like everything started going right for them. But Mom died because she had her. 

On my eighteenth birthday, I saw it–the timer above my own head, reflected in the bathroom mirror. 

I went out and bought myself a pretty urn, the kind I’d always liked. Then I cooked a huge dinner–roast beef, mashed potatoes, apple pie, the whole nine yards. I just wanted to have one last meal with my brothers. 

However, even as the numbers above my head ticked down to zero, none of them showed up. 

I’ve been able to see people’s death countdowns for as long as I can remember. 

The first time I noticed the numbers over Grandpa’s head, I told my parents. They just laughed it off, thinking I was making up stories. 

The next day, Grandpa was gone. He was lying under a white sheet, and everyone was crying. I didn’t really get what was happening. 

Later, I saw the timer over Dad’s head too. When I told him, his smile just froze for a second, then he acted like nothing was wrong. 

That night, Dad never came home from work. All I remember is the phone ringing and Mom’s face going ghost–white when she answered. She was so far along in her pregnancy, but she still ran for the door–and tripped on the steps outside. 

That’s when I saw it: the same 24–hour countdown over her head. 

That day, my little sister was born. But Mom died from blood loss, and I just stood outside the hospital room, not knowing what to do. 

Tim shoved me to the floor. “You’re a monster. You cursed us,” he said. “You killed Dad and Mom.” 

My palms scraped against the cold tile, little beads of blood stinging. It hurt, and I wanted to cry, but nobody even looked at me. They just stared like I was some kind of freak. 

I didn’t make a sound. I bit my lip, picked myself up, dusted off my dress, and tried to comfort myself in my head. 

I curled up in a corner, hugging my knees, listening to the crying from the hallway.” 

“Dad… Mom…” 

That’s how I fell asleep. When I woke up, the room was empty. They’d all left. Why didn’t anyone call for me? Did they just not want me anymore? 

I got up in a panic, but my legs were numb and I fell again. The only thing in the hallway was the flickering fluorescent light overhead. 

Everything hurt, and this time, I couldn’t hold back my tears. 

After that day, nothing was the same. 

My brothers doted on my little sister, but kept their distance from me. Even the housekeepers barely pretended to care. 

I went to bed hungry a lot, but somehow, I still made it to eighteen. 

Tim always muttered, “Bad luck never dies” 

Sometimes I wondered if I really was that awful–maybe that’s why I was still here. 

I dragged myself out of bed, slippers shuffling across the floor, and went to wash up. 

My hair was dul! and brittle, my cheeks hollow. No one would ever guess I was the oldest daughter of the Roman family. 

But none of that mattered–not when I could see the timer above my own head. 

In the mirror, the bright red numbers glared back at me. Finally. The day had come. 

I tried to smile, but it barely showed. 

I set down my water glass and stared at my reflection, lost in thought. 

I had no friends. Hardly anyone ever talked to me. How was I supposed to spend my last day?!! 

Chapter 2