They Wanted a Perfect Daughter，Now They Have a Dead One

The night before my sister's college celebration, I put a letter beneath my pillow. I'd written to thank my mother for looking after me. To ask Dad to smoke less. To tell my brother I knew the treatments hurt because he was trying to help. Spencer could keep the medical journal he'd brought me. I didn't think I'd ever become the doctor I'd planned to be. Seventy-eight sessions in a year. I thought I was ill. I thought loving me had exhausted them. Then, after the evening treatment, they talked outside my room because they thought I was asleep. “Once Paige's enrollment is confirmed, we'll stop,” my brother said. “We just need to get through tomorrow.” My mother's voice broke. “June can barely stand, Gavin. She was supposed to be going to Alder. She wanted medicine.” “I'll help her apply again,” Spencer said. “I'll tutor her. I'll stay as long as it takes.” Dad asked whether the medication could be stopped safely. “We'll have the doctor taper it,” Gavin said. “She'll get better. We can give her a year to recover.” My fingers tightened beneath the blanket. A year. They'd already taken one. Now they were discussing giving me another as if time was something they owned. I'd heard those words before. Get better. Recover. Come home. I'd thought they were trying to bring me back. They were waiting for my sister to take my place. Mom cried harder. “Yesterday she apologized to me. She was shaking so badly she couldn't hold the cup, and she said she was sorry I had to worry.” No one answered. Finally Dad said, “After tomorrow. No more.” Footsteps approached. Gavin tucked the blanket around me. “She asleep?” Mom whispered. “Yes.” Spencer spoke from the doorway. “Even if she heard anything, she couldn't do much in this condition.” I stayed perfectly still. Half an hour earlier, my brother had put the pills into my hand and promised they would make me well. Now I understood whose problem they were treating.