Short
After They Buried Me

After They Buried Me

Oleh:  Pepper ReaperTamat
Bahasa: English
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The day they told me it was terminal, my girlfriend showed up in a wedding dress and got down on her knees beside my hospital bed to propose. She said, "Even if you've only got three months, I want to be your wife for those three months." The video did millions of views, and she became the most devoted girlfriend the internet had ever seen. But I knew I didn't have long, and I couldn't stand to drag her down with me. So I quietly stopped every drug keeping me alive and signed everything I owned over to her. I passed out from the pain most nights, my skin broke open and wept, and I swallowed all of it. All I wanted was for the rest of her life to be easy. Then, the night I signed the last of the transfer papers, half conscious, I heard my parents crying outside the room. "I know we wanted him to learn, but this drug is destroying him." My mother could barely get it out. She'd found the bloody tissues I'd hidden in my bedding too many times. And my fiancee, Vivienne Whitfield, said coldly, "If it doesn't hurt, he'll never agree to let Connor come home. "So we told him he had cancer and put him through chemo. Once Connor's back, the Whitfields can keep Gabriel for the rest of his life, even if he never walks again." Connor was the fake heir, the boy swapped for me all those years ago. My one condition for coming home had been that he leave. Off the antidote, my lungs kicked up another clot of blood. What none of them knew was simple. I didn't have much time left to keep playing this out with them.

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Chapter 1

"Enough. Connor's coming home tomorrow.

"And stop the compound. He's our own son, and he's suffered long enough.

"Once Connor's settled, we'll make it up to him."

My father sighed.

He never noticed that I was awake in the hospital bed.

The cold went through me all at once.

They'd been poisoning me. For Connor.

Three years.

One "treatment compound" they'd paid a fortune for.

It had taken a six-foot-two man and ground him down to barely 100 pounds.

Every time I crashed and they brought me back, I'd bring up close to half the blood in my body.

And every time, white as a sheet, I'd tell them not to worry.

Looking back now, they must have thought that was hilarious.

The rust taste in my mouth got stronger.

"It's all right, Dad."

My fiancee, Vivienne Whitfield, spoke up.

"The compound does a lot of damage, I know.

"But I got Gabriel a protective antidote a long time ago. As long as he keeps taking it, nothing permanent is going to happen to him.

"Besides, we'd never have gone this far if he hadn't dug his heels in about sending Connor away.

"I say we keep him in here a few more days. He needs to learn what family's worth.

"Then he won't give Connor a hard time once Connor's back."

A few light sentences from Vivienne, and my parents were persuaded.

They didn't know I'd stopped taking the antidote weeks ago.

So I wouldn't be a burden to them anymore.

The poison had already torn through every organ I had.

My heart hurt worse.

Connor had been raised by the Morelands for twenty years.

I'd had a few.

Of course they loved him more. I understood that.

But I was the one they'd actually had.

And Connor's parents, the Vances, had taken me instead, raised me, and made me pay for it every day.

Winters, they let me get hungry enough to collect bottles for change. Summers, they put me down an off-the-books coal pit.

By the time the Morelands found me, there wasn't an unmarked inch on me.

That's why I insisted Connor go.

Because I couldn't make myself say the word forgiven.

Letting him keep enjoying everything the Morelands had was just one more thing done to me.

To my parents and to Vivienne, that made me heartless.

"She's right. He's a good boy in every other way. He just hasn't got a heart."

"And Connor never did a thing to him."

"Think how hard it's been for him out there. He called me last week and said he's down to store-brand caviar now.

"He's never had to go without like that..."

My parents' voices were full of pity.

They ached because Connor had to eat cheaper caviar.

I went missing when I was six.

At the worst of it, I took food out of a bowl a stray was eating from.

Somebody broke three of my ribs over half a piece of chicken off the sidewalk.

From start to finish, all I ever wanted was a home nobody could throw me out of.

Something heavy tore open in my chest.

I convulsed and brought up another mouthful of blood.

The last thing at the edge of my sight was my parents and Vivienne wheeling around, faces drained, lunging for me.

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