Dead But Not Done

I was sent to a correctional facility by my family for five years.

The first thing I learned there was obedience. If people told me to do one thing, I would never dare do anything else.

The day my wife, Casey Anderson, came to pick me up, she stood at the entrance and said coldly, "If you dare say another bad word about Roger, I'll make sure you never speak again."

The moment she finished speaking, I turned and ran straight into traffic.

When she saw me get thrown by the impact of the car, she nearly lost her footing.

At the hospital, my foster brother stood beside my bed with a sinister smile.

"So you actually managed to survive. But that's fine. I have plenty of ways to kill you and make sure you never make it home."

After saying that, he smashed the bowl of porridge onto the floor, then deliberately fell onto the shattered glass as he cried out loudly, "Bobby, if you hate me that much, I'll leave! Please, just let me go!"

My mother and Casey happened to walk in at that exact moment.

Casey immediately rushed over to help Roger up.

My mother, meanwhile, slapped me hard across the face.

"You'll never change, huh? If Roger's hand is ruined because of you and he can't play the piano anymore, I'd rather see you dead in this hospital bed."

Obediently, I walked toward the window and jumped.

The harsh, sharp-tongued woman who had always been my mother—and Casey as well—went completely pale with fear.

I happened to crash onto my father's car. Trembling, he threw open the door and shouted for the medical staff.

My consciousness gradually faded.

Then, a system suddenly appeared and said, "Congratulations, Host. You have completed ninety-nine tragic storylines. Finish this final one, and you will be able to return to your original world and revive your younger sister."

My internal organs had ruptured, and blood kept pouring from my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

If not for the fact that I couldn't die before completing my mission, I would've been long dead by now.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh.

"The patient was just involved in a car accident and then fell from a building. His internal injuries are severe, and nearly every bone in his body is fractured. We can only do our best. The rest… depends on fate.

"If you want us to proceed with treatment, the family needs to sign these first."

The doctor handed my father a surgical consent form along with a critical condition notice.

Standing beside him, my mother's face had gone deathly pale, and she nearly lost her balance.

"I only said it in the heat of the moment. How was I supposed to know Bobby would take it so seriously? I never meant…"

My father cut her off with a dark expression.

"Enough. What's the point of saying any of this now?"

After signing the documents, he handed them back to the doctor.

"Doctor, please. Save my son. As long as he survives, we'll pay whatever it costs."

The doctor nodded, took the paperwork, and hurried off to arrange the surgery.

My wife, Casey Anderson, looked at me lying in the operating room, covered in blood, and a trace of pain and reluctance flickered through her eyes.

Then she turned toward my foster brother, Roger Leander, beside her and asked flatly, "What exactly happened between you and Bobby just now? He was lying in a hospital bed with both hands broken from the accident. How could he possibly have pushed you?

"And he used to be so terrified of dying. How could he suddenly dare to jump from the fifth floor?"

The string of questions caught Roger off guard.

His eyes began to dart nervously.

"I… I don't know why Bobby jumped either. I was only trying to feed him some porridge, but he suddenly shoved me to the ground and said that sooner or later he'd kill me…

"Casey… are you suspecting me?"

He put on a wounded, aggrieved expression.

My mother immediately pulled Roger behind her protectively, her voice sharp and shrill.

"I raised Roger myself. I know exactly what kind of a man he is! He wouldn't even step on an ant. How could he possibly frame or hurt Bobby?"

The surgery lasted thirteen hours.

By the time I was wheeled back into the hospital room with tubes covering my body, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

On the morning of the third day, my consciousness drifted in and out through waves of agony.

I heard my mother's hushed complaints beside my bed.

"What a curse… He's never given anyone a moment of peace. Five years in the correctional facility and he still hasn't learned obedience. Pulling this kind of extreme stunt—who was he trying to scare? Stubborn to the bitter end…"

"Enough!"

My father's roar made my eardrums tremble.

"Our son nearly died! He's still unconscious, and you're already cursing him? Are you even his real mother?!"

Silence swallowed the hospital room for several seconds.

My father's breathing grew heavy. Then he turned toward Roger, forcing down his emotions.

"Roger, tell me the truth. What exactly happened that day?"

Roger's soft sobs filled the room as he choked out between tears, "Dad… even you don't believe me? I know… in this family, Mom's the only one who treats me well. Is it because I'm not your biological son? Is that why everything I do is wrong?

"Fine. I understand now. It's all my fault. I framed Bobby for trying to kill me. I shouldn't have stayed alive to get in his way—"

Before anyone could react, he suddenly rushed toward the window.

"I'll jump right now and apologize to Bobby with my life!"