Billions for My Brother, Regrets for My Grave

"I need a thousand bucks," I said.

Otis's face twisted with anger. "A thousand? For what?"

I looked at them calmly. "My illness is real."

"What illness?" he asked.

I pulled out the crumpled diagnosis and smoothed it out.

Otis scowled. "Neville already told us it's fake. Why are you still lying to us?"

Colette lowered her voice. "Did you mess up? What's the money for? You're in trouble?"

I met their eyes. "I have stomach cancer. I'm not lying."

Otis got up, pacing. "If it's real, where would we get that kind of money for your treatment?"

Colette covered her face. "What do we do? Neville's got his competition tomorrow."

The last shred of hope I had been clinging to died.

"I'm not getting treated," I said.

They both sighed in relief.

Otis nodded. "Treatment might not even work anyway."

Colette wiped her tears. "You've got to understand how hard this is for us."

I turned around and shut the door.

The walls were thin, and I could hear their whispers.

"How did she learn to lie like that?"

"Did we mess up raising her?"

"We can't call her out too hard. If she makes a fuss, it will affect Neville's exams."

"She's nothing like David. He was so easy."

...

In the living room, a huge photo of David Gordon loomed over everything.

It had been ten years, but his face was still painfully perfect.

"Write," Otis barked, slapping a pen in front of me. "David's handwriting had strength. Yours is weak."

I gripped the pen, but my stomach ached again.

My every stroke mimicked that flawless brother who never made mistakes.

Neville came downstairs and deliberately knocked over the table.

The ink bottle spilled, black liquid swallowing my half-hour of work.

"Oops, Lenora's writing is ruined again," he yelped innocently, smirking with glee.

"On your knees!" Otis roared, unleashing his anger on me.

I knelt before David's portrait. Pain surged through my stomach.

Cold sweat rolled down my forehead, but I bit my lip to stay silent.

Otis's voice boomed above me. "Think hard about when you'll be half as good as David."

I looked up at David's perfect, smiling face, frozen forever at 18.

He never messed up, never disappointed Otis, and never got punished like this.

Colette's voice was soft as a breeze. "Neville, finished your homework yet?"

"Two pages left," Neville whined playfully.

"I'll make you some hot milk," Colette smiled.

Blood filled my mouth. I knew I was about to cough it up.

"Lenora's kneeling there, and it's distracting me," Neville complained.

Colette leaned close, whispering, "Keep it down. Don't bother him."

My whole world collapsed.

I was drowning in pain, and she was worried I'd disturb Neville.

Blood surged up my throat, and I quickly clamped my hand over my mouth.

Still, it seeped through my fingers, dripping onto the floor.