My Brother's Scapegoat

Although I had gone to prison for Ian, there were still some formalities to go through.

Ian and my mother reluctantly went to the police station and sat down on the chairs.

"Officer, where are Mason's documents? Bring them out for us to sign. I have to go car shopping with my son this afternoon. I don't have time to waste here."

The police officer looked at the two of them a bit strangely.

There was no sign of grief on their faces, despite having just lost a family member.

However, the police officer still added out of humanitarian concern, "No one expected something like this to happen. The kid was so young. Please accept my condolences."

My mother sneered. "Condolonces? What condolences? Isn't it only right that a scoundrel like him end up like this? Now that he's in jail, we can finally take a break. We're overjoyed."

All the people in the police station were stunned. They never expected that such a cold-blooded parent existed. They wondered if I had a long history of bad deeds that even my own mother could not stand me.

Unlike my mother's calm and indifferent attitude, Ian seemed a little anxious. He kept smoking at the door because he had too many cases against him. He was also afraid of being recognized.

A hand suddenly patted his shoulder. "You must be Ian."

He nearly jumped up in fright, but the police officer simply handed him an amulet. "Your brother left this behind before he left. Take it home."

I had never let that amulet out of my sight. I had a high fever when I was three, and my mother had specially gotten it to bless me. Back then, our relationship was not so strained, and this amulet held precious memories for me.

Whenever I felt I could not stand this household, I would take it out and take a good look at it.

"What kind of junk is this? What would he have to give us from prison? Is it something for him to play the victim again and get us to get him out?"

My mother saw the amulet and added with confusion, "Isn't this the one you bought for five dollars from a street vendor on the way back from the amusement park?"

It was like a bolt from the blue. The last shred of family affection I had clung to turned out to be just a figment of my imagination.

It was no wonder no one cared about me when I had a fever all day. They had gone to the amusement park I had always longed for.

A sharp pain shot through my heart, more agonizing than before I died. I wondered, 'Why... Why do this to me?'

Just as I was in despair, a detective placed a document in my mother's hand. "You can take him away after you sign this."

My mother was stunned, wondering, 'Isn't he in jail? How could he go back?'

She glanced instinctively at the paper in her hand, her breathing quickening for a moment. She leaned closer to the paper in disbelief. It bore the large words: Death Notice.

The police officer kindly reminded her, "Your son was executed a few days ago. His body is in the morgue; you can collect it later."

My mother remained silent. The woman, who had been so dismissive of me her entire life, stared blankly at the person before her.

All other sounds vanished miraculously. All she could hear was — her son had been executed.

Her son was dead.