“I am so sick of living in her shadow!” Chloe screamed, tears of pure frustration spilling over her lashes.

“You look at her like she’s some kind of tragic saint, and you look at me like I’m a shallow burden! I’ve worked my whole life to be perfect for you, and you don’t even care! You only care about the freak!”

“Do not call your sister that!” my mother cried out, standing up, her voice breaking into a sob.

“I’ll call her whatever I want!” Chloe shrieked, entirely unhinged by years of perceived neglect. She leaned across the table, her eyes burning with a venom so pure it took my breath away. “I wish whatever fake, invisible disease she has would just finish the job! I wish she’d just die so I could finally have my parents back!”

A suffocating, deathly silence fell over the dining room.

The air was pulled clean out of the space. My father buried his face in his large, calloused hands, letting out a choked, agonizing sob that shook his broad shoulders. My mother staggered backward into the china cabinet, looking as if she’d just been stabbed in the chest. They were looking at Chloe not with anger, but with a profound, helpless horror. They knew the truth. They knew that the girl Chloe was wishing dead was the only reason she was breathing.