All Love Was His, I Was Locked Sick

Everyone in my family could see the countdown over my brother's life. Everyone knew he would die on his sixteenth birthday. So he became the most important person in the house. The best food was always his. The newest limited-edition sneakers were his. Even the time our parents spent sitting at the edge of the bed before lights out, talking and reading, that was his too. I felt sorry for him, but I also envied him for having all of their attention. When his sixteenth birthday finally came, my parents were afraid I'd cause trouble, so they locked me in the storage room even though I was burning up with a fever. I pounded on the door, my voice weak and unsteady. "Mom, can you let me out? I have a fever, my head really hurts." Her voice came back, tense and impatient. "That's enough. Your brother only has today. After tonight, he's gone. Can't you just deal with it?" "But I feel awful…" Gradually, everything outside went quiet, and my thoughts started to blur as my body grew heavier and heavier. My body suddenly became very light. I looked through the old wooden door and saw the warm light in the living room. Mother and father sat close to our brother on the sofa. Mother gently patted his back. Father lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly. My brother, Jeff, wore his only new tracksuit. It was light blue, with a few small star emblems embroidered on the chest. His face looked unusually pale under the light. His lips had almost no color. "Mother, Father, is Jake really okay?" Jeff's voice was very soft, with a heavy nasal tone. "I heard him saying his head hurt..." "Don't worry about him," father said. Mother agreed, reaching out to stroke Jeff's cheek with concern, brushing the loose hair from his forehead. "Exactly. He's not really sick. He's just faking it for sympathy. You only have one day left..." Mother didn't finish her sentence. Her throat tightened, and her eyes reddened. "Just wait for your birthday tomorrow," she said. "Don't let him ruin your mood." Jeff pressed his lips together and said nothing more, but his brow furrowed even tighter. I knew he had always felt guilty about me. Ever since I could remember, all of the family's love had been piled onto him. I could only watch longingly for a spoonful of the warm steamed egg, let alone new sneakers or a new basketball. But Jeff always secretly slipped me his snacks. He would exchange the larger-sized sneakers our parents bought him for a smaller size so I could wear them. Whenever our parents scolded me, he was always the first to step in and protect me. He always said, "Jake, I'm sorry. It's because of me that you've had to suffer." But our parents didn't see it that way. Mother sighed, looking at Jeff with pity. "Don't always speak up for him," she said. "That boy has been jealous of you since he was little. He can't stand to see you happy. "Don't you remember his fourteenth birthday?" Jeff's fourteenth birthday was also the first time I truly realized that my brother was going to die. That day, our parents bought a cream cake for the first time. Fourteen thin candles stood on top. Mother carefully lit the candles. Father held up the old camera they had used for years, wanting to capture one of the few birthdays Jeff had left. I hid behind the door and watched. I watched the candlelight flicker on Jeff's face. I watched him close his eyes to make a wish. I watched the tears our parents tried so hard to hold back. I rushed out. I didn't know what I had been thinking at the time. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was the inability to accept that my brother, who had always been so gentle to me, was going to leave. I knocked the cake over. Cream splattered across the floor. The candles rolled into the corner and quickly went out. "I don't want to see you celebrating his birthday!" I screamed, just like any other annoying, bratty child. I still remembered the look in our parents' eyes when they looked at me. When father's hand came down, I didn't dodge. Once. Twice. Three times... Mother stood by and cried, but she didn't stop him. It was Jeff who threw himself over me, shielding me with his thin body. "Don't hit Jake anymore, Father! Please don't hit him!" His voice trembled, but he held me tight. "It's my fault. It's all my fault..." That night, Jeff snuck into my room and pressed half a piece of chocolate he had hidden into my hand. There was a red mark on his wrist—a scratch from a chair when he had protected me. "Jake, I'm sorry," he whispered, gently touching my swollen cheek with his finger. "I will be gone soon. After that... after that, no one will fight with you for anything anymore." In the living room, Mother reached out and stroked Jeff's face with concern, her fingers gently brushing the loose hair from his forehead. "Jeff, don't pay attention to him," she said, her voice tired. "That child has been jealous of you since he was little. You know that." I froze. Yes, I was jealous of my brother. I envied him for having all their love. I envied him for wearing new sneakers. I envied him for getting mother's whole night of care when he had a fever. I envied that even with only one day left to live, he was still the one in our parents' hearts. I drifted toward my brother, wanting to grab his hand, wanting to tell him that I really did have a fever, that my head really hurt. But my hand passed straight through his body, as if through a cloud of mist. I stopped in mid-air, staring blankly at my transparent fingers. I looked back at the closed wooden door of the storage room. A faint light seeped out from under the door. I drifted over, passed through the door, and saw myself curled up among the piles of clutter. So I was already dead. Before my brother's countdown could reach zero, my death had come first.