Grandma Killed the Whole Family

The dining table was lively again, full of chatter and laughter.

My brother was wolfing down his pie, pausing just long enough to flatter Grandma. "Grandma, your pies are the best ever!"

Grandma beamed, practically glowing. "Oh, my sweet boy! Eat as much as you want."

After Dad and my brother stuffed themselves, Grandma and Mom dug in, tearing into the pies like they hadn't eaten in days. The whole plate was gone in minutes.

Bellies full, the four of them sprawled out on the couch, groaning and patting their bloated stomachs.

Grandma finally called me out of the kitchen to clean up. I quietly picked up the dirty dishes, doing my "girl's job," as they liked to remind me. To them, I was just free labor, a burden they never wanted.

I'd gone through this once already, and it finally clicked. They didn't see me as family. They never would. I had been stupid enough to think if I worked hard enough if I tried to be good enough, they might actually care about me. But all that got me was a cruel death with no respect.

Last time, when those pies hit the table, I tried to warn them. I told them the moldy nuts and flour could make them sick, maybe even give them cancer.

Grandma lost it, screaming at me for being a curse and ruining Thanksgiving with my "nonsense."

Dad didn't waste a second. He grabbed a broom and started swinging at me. Mom, lost in her twisted sense of loyalty, grabbed the pies and shoved them into my mouth one after another. I choked on them, and they didn't care.

I tried to signal for help, but they just walked away, not even glancing back.

By the time they remembered me, I was already dead, suffocated by their carelessness.

Grandma spat on my body. "This stupid girl—dying right here on Thanksgiving. How unlucky."

My brother clapped his hands, practically dancing. "Finally! No more fighting me for pocket money."

Mom and Dad were just as cold, getting rid of my body like it was nothing. They burned me up and dumped my ashes into the cesspool out back.

My death didn't make a dent in their lives. It was like I never even mattered.

Now that I was back, I was done with them. No more begging for love, no more trying to save them. If they got sick from the moldy flour, if they suffered, if they died—that was their problem, not mine.

This time, I was putting myself first.