Before I died,I won five million pounds

chapter 2

Early the next morning, she carried me over twenty miles of mountain paths to the town to have my leg examined. It was the middle of winter, and her boots sank deep into the snow with every step.

The doctor glanced at my legs and sighed.

"I've told you before—her bones have set crooked. It's been neglected too long; I can't fix it. Take her to a city hospital."

Grandma opened her worn purse and pulled out a few coins—barely enough for a bus fare.

"Doctor, just give her some painkillers. This girl can't bear the agony any longer."

The doctor sighed, handing her several boxes of medicine.

"Chloe, I'm so sorry, dear."

I wiped the tears from her face and smiled. "Grandma, it doesn't hurt anymore."

She carried me home again.

The cabbages in the field had ripened. Before dawn, she took her hoe to the fields, wanting to harvest them quickly. I waited for her, until midday when commotion erupted outside.

"The old hag collapsed in the fields. She is froze to death out there."

A burly man carried Grandma inside. Her skin was blue with cold. I held her hand—it was like ice, impossible to warm no matter how I tried.

That afternoon, my uncle and aunt returned. They dressed Grandma in her burial clothes and took her to the crematorium. I didn't understand anything then, only remembering that when Grandma came back, she was in a small box.

In that moment, a thought surged through me: separated by that box, I would never have Grandma again. I was ten that year.

My uncle rummaged through her old chest, finding only a few tattered garments and nothing else.

“Impossible. After all these years, she couldn’t have hidden not a single penny.”

My aunt refused to believe it. She searched every pocket of Grandma’s clothes—nothing. Then she turned to me, checking my coat and even my shoes—still nothing.

"What did she say before she died? Did she tell you to keep anything for her?"

I shook my head. All she'd told me was that the porridge was warming in the pot and to be careful getting out of bed.

My uncle pulled my aunt aside.

"What could a child possibly understand?"

Then he turned to me.

"Chloe, come back to the city with me."

My aunt frowned, clearly reluctant, but my uncle was firm.

And so, in the end, I went with them—to live in the city.

My cousin had to go to school every day, while I stayed behind, confined to the house.

Most of the time I managed the household chores with my crutch.

Sometimes, when boredom grew unbearable, I'd ask my cousin what school was like.

She'd tell me all about it with great enthusiasm—about her teachers, her friends, the games they played at recess—her face lighting up as she spoke.

But as soon as my aunt came home and saw her homework untouched, she’d scold her sharply.

Then she’d turn to me.

“Don’t distract her again. If you keep her from her studies, I’ll send you away.”

After that, I didn’t dare speak to my cousin anymore.

When my uncle returned from his travels, he bought each of us a doll.

When I held mine, I could hardly believe such a beautiful doll existed.

With this doll, boredom vanished. Each day I could talk to her, dress her in pretty clothes, and style her hair.

Just looking at her made my heart feel a little lighter. Only, whenever my aunt saw her, her expression darkened.

"Country girl."she muttered, her voice dripping with contempt.