When I Die

This time, the memory extractor finally showed Vanessa's disappearance.

Three days before she vanished, Father bought me a piano. At our family gatherings, Vanessa always performed—playing violin, singing, charming every guest. But I remained silent in the shadows. Father decided this couldn't continue.

"People will talk," he said. So he arranged piano lessons, curious if I had any talent.

To everyone's surprise, I excelled. The instructor praised my "natural sensitivity". Father, for the first time in years, smiled at me. "Keep practicing," he said.

That night, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried. Maybe they'll accept me now. I practiced obsessively, fingers aching. I'll master this. I'll belong here. I'll never go back to that wretched village.

Then on the third day, razor blades hidden between the piano keys sliced my fingertips open.

Blood splattered the ivory. I screamed.

Vanessa came running, pretending to care. "Oh no, Claire! Did you break a finger?"

"It was you!" I clutched my bleeding hands. "Father wanted me to play! Why are you like this?"

Vanessa grinned. "Because I can be. I hate hearing you play. I hate Father praising you. Got a problem with that?"

I stumbled toward the door—I'd tell them everything.

Vanessa caught my wrist and whispered, "Stripper trash. Go ahead. Tell them."

My blood turned to ice. "H-how do you know about—"

"I had you investigated." Her breath was hot against my ear. "Your foster parents sold you to that club when you were fifteen. Should I let Mother know her real daughter took her clothes off for strangers?"

"I... I was forced," I gasped, "If I hadn’t done it, they’d lock me in a dark room, starve me. And I gave them every cent I made..." Tears streamed down my face as the memories flooded back.​

"That’s just because you’re useless!" Vanessa spat in my face. "When your foster parents couldn’t stand you, you ran back to steal my life. A mafia boss’s daughter with such a shameful past—imagine how disgusted Mom and Dad will be when they find out. And Lawrence...do you really think he’ll still want to marry you then?"​

I collapsed to my knees. "Please... don’t tell them. I'll quit piano. I'll do anything!"

"Good dog." She ground her heel into my wounded fingers. "Remember—you get scraps when you obey. Try taking what's mine, and I'll bury you."

"Oh my God! My dear daughter Claire, how much she's suffering!" I vaguely heard my mother's voice. It seemed that she was crying for me.

"How can the heir to the mafia be abused and toyed with like this!" This time it was my father, gritting his teeth with anger. "Claire, my dear daughter, you've endured such cruel treatment—Dad will definitely get justice for you!"

Finally, I heard the voice of the man I'd been longing for day and night. "Claire, it's not your fault! I won't let you get hurt again. No matter what, I'll love you forever and protect you always!" Lawrence called out into my memories.

Hearing them speak up for me, I felt a sense of comfort deep in my soul—I could die without regrets.

The memories went on. At that moment, Vanessa staged her masterpiece.

"Since you're being cooperative," she mused, "I'll disappear for a while. Let's see how they treat their only daughter then."

"You're insane!" I exclaimed.

"Insane?" Vanessa laughed. "I'm securing my inheritance. Five years, and they still haven't thrown you out. Sentimental fools." She leaned down, eyes gleaming. "When I own this family, maybe I'll give you an allowance. Five hundred a month—better than spreading your legs for tips, hm?"

Her laughter followed me as she sprinted downstairs—and fell.

"Help! Claire hurt herself!" she shrieked, tumbling dramatically.

By the time Father arrived, the story was set in stone: I'd mutilated my own hands to avoid practicing, then attacked Vanessa when she tried to stop me.

The piano crashed to the floor under his kick. "Ungrateful wretch!"

Mother looked at me with clinical disappointment. "Self-harm? You need psychiatric evaluation."

Lawrence withdrew completely. "The Claire I knew wouldn't do this."

Then Vanessa vanished. Her farewell letter sealed my fate:

"After seeing Claire mutilate herself, I realize I've stolen her life. I'm leaving everything to her. Please forgive me."

The perfect martyr. The perfect villain.

The memory ended. In the extraction room, the last of my strength drained away. No one noticed as my breathing slowed.

Across the hall, my family removed their helmets in stunned silence. Mother trembled. "My poor girl... all this time...it was Vanessa all along who did these terrible things!"

Lawrence clenched his fists: "We've all been deceived by Vanessa. She needs to pay for this!"

"Where is Claire? We need talk to her!" Father barked.

The doctor led them to the backup room. When the door opened, they found only stillness.

The doctor shook my shoulder. "Miss Vitale?"

My hands, those scarred piano hands, lay motionless.

The doctor froze, then checked my pulse. His head snapped up in alarm. "Call an ambulance! She's not breathing!"