3: 3

Mom lunged over and grabbed Egbert's shoulders, every drop of color draining from her face in a single second.

"Bertie! Bertie, what's wrong?"

Egbert was already doubled over, fine beads of sweat breaking across his forehead, his lips turning purple.

"It hurts…"

He pressed a hand hard against his chest, his voice thin and crushed down small.

"It's not like before… this time it really hurts…"

Mom kept one hand pressed to his chest and screamed at Dad.

"Call 911! Call 911!"

Dad dropped his phone, snatched it up again, and dialed for the ambulance with shaking hands.

"Seven minutes! He can't wait that long! Can't you get here faster?"

Mom sank to her knees and pulled him into her arms, her palm cupped over his chest, one sentence turning over and over in her mouth.

"It's okay, it's okay, Mommy's here, Mommy's right here."

Dad paced back and forth beside them, not knowing what to do with his hands, clenching them into fists and letting go, letting go and clenching again.

I stood three steps away, watching them go out of their minds.

The first time my heart stopped, they knelt in the hallway just like this, banging their foreheads on the floor.

Back then, I believed they loved me.

That simple task had felt like something handed to me for free.

So when my brother's illness flared, I transferred my lifespan to him without a second of hesitation.

I thought my parents would praise me. Love me even more.

But the first time, the second time, the two hundredth time…

There would be no two hundred and first chance.

The ambulance carried Egbert screaming to the nearest hospital and wheeled him straight into the ER.

Mom was stopped at the door, both hands locked around the stainless steel handle, knuckles white.

"Doctor! My son has a congenital heart condition! He's been in treatment this whole time! He shouldn't suddenly—"

The ER nurse held her back.

"Family members, please cooperate. You can't go in right now."

"But my son—"

"He's being resuscitated. Please wait outside."

The door closed.

Mom's whole body gave out. She slid slowly down the wall and sat on the floor of the corridor.

That pose was exactly the way I had sat down against my bedroom door before I died.

Dad stood beside her, his voice trembling.

"Bertie… he'll be fine… he's going to be fine."

"He's got the lifespan Odette just transferred in him. There's no way anything can happen to him."

Mom's head snapped up, seizing on the words like hope.

"Right… right, there's still lifespan, he won't die… the system won't let him die…"

That's right. Of course my brother would be fine. He still had at least twenty years of lifespan.

That was my whole life.

The light over the resuscitation room stayed on for a full forty minutes.

The door opened. The attending physician came out and pulled down his mask.

"He's stabilized for now. But the patient's heart condition is more complicated than we expected. He'll need close monitoring."

Mom stumbled inside, threw herself against the bed, and gripped Egbert's hand.

His face was waxy and yellow, an oxygen tube clipped at his nostrils, his chest rising and falling faintly.

"Mom…"

His eyes were half open, his voice terribly weak.

"Mommy's here, Mommy's right here."

Egbert's lips moved.

"Am I going to die…"

"No."

Mom pressed his hand to her face, tears striking the sheets.

"You won't die. Mommy won't let you die."

She turned to look at Dad, her eyes rimmed red.

"Call Odette."

"Tell her to transfer lifespan. Right now."

Dad pulled out his phone at once, his fingers shaking as he dialed my number.

One ring, two rings, three rings.

No answer.

"Try again!"

Four rings, five rings, six rings.

"The number you have dialed is not answering—"

The tears were still on Mom's face, but her expression shifted from panic to fury.

"What is she playing at? Her brother's fighting for his life and she won't pick up?"

Dad gritted his teeth and dialed again.

Still the cold, mechanical woman's voice.

"That wretched girl!"

Mom let go of Egbert's hand and shot to her feet.

"Is she doing this on purpose? Is she still sulking?"

Dad was already heading for the door.

"I'll go back and get her."

Mom called after him.

"Bring her here! Drag her if you have to!"

4: 4

Dad drove so fast he ran two red lights.

I sat in the passenger seat, watching the veins stand out on the hand that gripped the wheel.

His phone was jammed between his ear and his shoulder, redialing my number without stopping.

The seventh time. The eighth.

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailab—"

"Pick up! Odette, pick up the damn phone!"

He finished yelling into the receiver and slammed the phone down on the armrest.

From the hospital to home, a fifteen-minute drive, he made it in eight.

The car had barely stopped before he shot out of the driver's seat and jogged into the building.

Key into the lock, twist, door open.

The living room was a mess, the cake still on the table, the cream melted into a puddle.

"Odette!"

No one answered.

"Odette, get out here! Your brother's in the hospital fighting for his life and you're in there throwing a tantrum?"

Dad strode toward my room and shoved at the door.

It wouldn't move.

Something was blocking it from the inside.

"Odette, open this door!"

He slapped the door, hard enough to rattle the panel.

"Odette! Your brother's lying in the ER and you've got the nerve to hide in here in peace! How can you be so heartless?"

Dead silence behind the gap in the door.

He hit the door harder and harder, until flakes of paint shook loose from the wall.

"Playing deaf and dumb, are you? You'd let your own brother die. How did I raise something this cold-blooded?"

He swore, stepped back half a pace, and rammed his shoulder into the door.

Two blows, and the lock cylinder cracked.

The door sprang open a crack, then caught on something heavy on the floor, dragging with a dull scrape.

"Still playing this game? Open the door!"

I lay slumped behind the door, the front of my uniform smeared with dust.

My phone was pinned by my leg, screen lit, nothing but his missed calls.

Dad jabbed a furious finger at me through the gap.

"Don't you pull this with me. Get up right now and go to the hospital!"

I didn't move. Not even a flicker of my eyelids.

"Still playing deaf on me, huh!"

With a huge crash, he kicked the door open without an ounce of mercy.

My body was forced half a meter along with it, and my right arm gave a sickening crack as it snapped clean.

But from start to finish, I didn't make so much as a sound of pain.

He strode over, grabbed my shoulder, and yanked hard to pull me up.

The moment his hand touched me, he froze.

His eyes locked on that twisted arm.

His breath cut off.

"No... it can't be..."