Chapter 2

"I don't want to see any of you celebrate Eli's birthday!" I shrieked, acting like any irritating, spoiled brat. I could still remember the way Mom and Dad looked at me back then.

I didn't even flinch when Dad's hand came down, repeatedly striking me. I remembered Mom crying nearby, though she never stepped in to stop him.

Eli was the one who threw himself over to hug me, shielding me with his frail body. "Please don't hit Ash anymore, Dad!"

He shielded me tightly even though his voice was trembling as he said, "It's all my fault… It's entirely my fault…"

That night, Eli sneaked into my bedroom to slip half a chocolate bar he had saved into my hand. He had a scratch on his wrist, which was caused by the chair when he shielded me earlier that day. He suddenly said, "I'm so sorry, Ash…"

He carefully caressed my swollen cheek and said softly, "I'll be gone for good soon, so no one will be taking things from you anymore, Ash…"

In the living room, Mom tenderly touched Eli's face, tucking away the loose strands of hair from his forehead. She then said softly in a voice tinged with exhaustion, "You should just leave him be, Eli. You know very well that brat has been jealous of you since he was young."

I was stunned. I was indeed jealous of Eli. I was jealous of the total preference heaped on him, the new sneakers he wore, and how Mom would stay by his side all night when he was sick with a fever.

I envied that even though he had just a single day left to live, he remained the most precious person to Mom and Dad.

I floated toward Eli. I wanted to hold his hand and tell him that I was truly running a fever and that my head genuinely ached, but my hand passed right through his body, as if passing through a plume of mist.

I froze in midair, staring down at my transparent fingers in confusion. I looked back at the closed wooden door of the storage room, where a faint light spilled through the gap at the bottom. I drifted over, passed through the door, and saw myself curled up among the clutter inside.

I realized then that I was already dead. I had died even before Eli's countdown reached zero.

I suddenly felt my memories surging toward me like tidal waves, bringing with them the musty smell of forgotten years.

If there were only one piece of candy at home, it would always belong to Eli. If the only apple were cut in two, the bigger half would go to him and the smaller half to me. Eli would always have new clothes to wear, while I wore his old hand-me-downs, which were covered in patches.

Eli was also the only one who had the privilege of listening to bedtime stories.

Mom sounded as gentle as ever as she read "The Little Sky-Farer", "The Fables of Whispering Woods", and other tales concerning the stars and the moon. She would only ever read those stories to Eli, though.

I secretly pressed myself against the gap in the door and listened as Mom asked gently, "What story would you like to hear today, Eli?"

"I want to listen to the story about the mermaids," Eli replied.

Mom started reading the story, her voice like a nocturnal stream, gliding softly along.

I crouched outside the door with my arms around my knees, listening to the beautiful story as a tight sensation gripped my heart. I couldn't help but wonder why Mom wouldn't read me those bedtime stories as well.

In the summer of my seventh year, our neighbors gifted us a chicken, which Mom turned into a stew.

There were two golden, glistening drumsticks sitting right at the top of the pot, and when it was dinnertime, Mom carefully placed both drumsticks onto Eli's plate.

"You should have more, Eli. It'll nourish your body."

I looked at the plain mashed potatoes and a few pieces of broccoli on my own plate before bursting into tears. "Why did Eli get both drumsticks? I want some too! I want to eat drumsticks too!"