I Was the Bait for My Brother

I drifted between my parents and waved my arms frantically. "Dad! Mom! I'm right here! Can't you see me? I'm back! I'm really back!"

Mom suddenly shivered and rubbed her arms. "Why does it feel so cold all of a sudden?"

She walked to the window and closed it, completely unaware that I was standing in front of her. My hand went right through her shoulder.

Why couldn't I touch her? Why couldn't she see or hear me?

A cold voice echoed in my mind. "It's because I'm dead."

The realization washed over me and left me frozen. I hovered blankly in the kitchen, watching Mom set the dishes on the table.

Raymond shoved his food onto the floor and wailed, "I'm not eating if Emilia isn't here!"

Mom raised her hand as if to strike him, then stopped herself. She said coldly, "If you don't eat, then stay hungry."

She bent down, picked up the food scattered on the floor, and threw it into the trash. Her movements were brisk, as though she were throwing away something she no longer needed. It was just like the way she had discarded me.

The thought suddenly surfaced and made me tremble. Memories of things I once failed to understand began to flood back.

Mom once told the neighbor with a smile, "Emilia is my lucky charm. As soon as she was born, Raymond came right after. She really brings us good luck."

Back then, I didn't understand what that meant; I only knew that Mom smiled brightly while stroking my hair. However, after Raymond was born, she rarely stroked my hair. Her eyes followed him constantly. She held him, kissed him, and called him her sweetheart.

Dad was the same. The first thing he asked when he got home from work was always, "Where's Ray?"

His shoulders became Raymond's personal seat, while I could only trail behind, carefully tugging at his shirt, afraid that he might forget me.

Once, when I had a fever, I curled up in the corner of the couch. After Mom finished feeding Raymond, she finally came over to check my temperature. Frowning, she said with annoyance, "You're burning up. You're only making things harder."

In the end, Dad got up in the middle of the night to carry me to the hospital. He sighed on the way and told me, "Emilia, you're the older sister. You need to be responsible and not tire Mom out."

So, this was what it meant to be a lucky charm—my purpose had ended the moment Raymond was born. I was no longer a blessing; I was just an older sister who was expected to be sensible.

…

When they were nearly done eating, Mom brought out a cake and placed the candles on it.

Raymond was forced to make a wish. He started sobbing again. "I wish for Emilia to come back."

"Stop crying! Your sister is taking the punishment for you! If you don't change, next time—"

Mom didn't finish the sentence, but her gaze was ice cold.

Dad stepped in to smooth things over. "Alright, your wish will come true."

"Really?" Raymond asked.

"Yes, I promise," Dad replied.

A spark of hope lit up Raymond's eyes.

However, I was already back. I floated above the cake, watching the flickering flames. Their wish had already come true; they just didn't know it.

…

After dinner, Mom washed dishes at the sink. I wanted to wipe the sweat from her forehead, but my hand passed right through it. She used to complain all the time that my hands were cold. Now, I couldn't even touch her.

Dad walked over with his brows tightly furrowed. "Should we go get Emilia? She gets scared easily."

Mom looked up immediately, her voice firm. "No. If we bring her back now, the lesson for Ray is wasted. It's only been a day; he won't learn anything yet."

"I have a bad feeling," Dad said. "Emilia has been afraid of the dark since she was little. I don't even know if there are any lights on in Mr. Harris' warehouse."

"There's a light. I specifically told him to keep a light on at night," Mom answered.

I wanted to tell them that there were no lights in the warehouse, only a high window. I tried desperately to inform them of that, but my voice sounded like nothing more than wind whistling through a crack.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I focused all my energy and stared at the chandelier in the kitchen, imagining that it was my hand and my eyes.