They Chose Her Over Me—Then Begged Me to Remember Them Chapter 07
“This family’s mine now.
Hay there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
I’d heard every word that girl said.
But I didn’t know what any of it meant.
What was winning? What was losing?
What was a nobody?
I didn’t know.
Morning came.
The woman came back in, her eyes swollen like walnuts.
She carried a bowl of oatmeal and sat beside my bed, feeding me spoonful by spoonful.
I opened my mouth. Swallowed.
“Rosalind, is it good?”
I didn’t know what “good” meant.
To me, everything tasted like nothing.
She asked again. “Do you want something else? I will make it for you.”
I said nothing.
She set the bowl down and took my hand, her voice shaking.
“Rosalind, look at me. Do you really not remember me at all?”
I looked at her.
Nothing stirred inside me.
The man stood in the doorway, not coming in.
He watched her feed me, his lips pressed white.
“Mom, the doctor said to try showing her old photos.”
The woman nodded quickly, pulled out her phone, opened the photo album, swiped through picture after picture for me.
“This was you at five. I took you to the amusement park.”
“This is high school-you graduated at the top of your school, look how happy you were.”
“This is you and Miles. Look how perfect you two were together.”
I looked at the photos.
The girl in them was laughing, running, playing, hugging different people.
She looked happy.
But I didn’t know her.
The woman flipped through a dozen or more. My blank expression never changed once.
Her hands started to shake. She kept swiping, and the phone slipped from her fingers onto the blanket.
She covered her mouth and turned away.
Her shoulders heaved.
The man walked in and picked up the phone.
“Mom, go rest for a while.”
The woman was helped out.
The man sat down at the bedside, silent for a long time.
“Rosalind, your phone’s been sitting in your drawer since you were admitted. I’ll go get it, there should be
more of your old stuff on there.”
He stepped out and came back holding something.
“This is your phone.”
He held it up to my face.
Face ID unlocked the screen.
He tapped through the photo album. “Rosalind, let’s look at your old pictures.”
Suddenly his finger stopped.
The color drained from his face, bit by bit.
“What is this…”
He tapped open a video titled My Birthday Vlog.
On screen, a hand held up the phone, filming. An entryway came into view.
A girl’s voice, cheerful:
It’s my birthday today, I’m heading home to order a cake…”
The door opened.
In the living room, another girl stood with her back to the camera, on the phone.
“Desmond’s so good to me. Don’t worry, this family’s going to be mine eventually.”
The girl on the phone hung up, turned around, and faced the camera.
She walked over.
“Mom and Dad paid for all those years of school, and you still haven’t made anything of yourself compared
to me.”
Then her hand rose.
Smack!
The phone jolted.
“You’re such a waste. Mom and Dad are going to throw you out eventually anyway!”
The picture jolted again.
The girl stumbled backward-on her own-and let out a scream.
“Help! Rosalind’s trying to kill me!”
Then came the chaos of footsteps, a woman’s furious shouting.
Then the video cut off.
The man stood frozen, phone in hand.
His mouth opened. No sound came out.
From outside the door, the woman’s voice called: “Desmond? What’s wrong?”
The man stood, walked to the door.
He turned the phone screen toward everyone standing outside.
And pressed play.
