Chapter 2

“Ever since your brother died, your mother’s mental health has never been the same. She’s getting older. You need to be more understanding.”

I did not argue more. I simply walked out, feeling numb. Like I had countless times before, I lowered my head and said, “Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked back to you, and I shouldn’t have gotten such high scores.”

She turned to look at me, but her eyes were unfocused. She was having another episode and mistaking me for my brother again.

“My sweet boy, what are you talking about? Come and have dinner. I made all your favorite dishes.”

She led me to the dining table and kept piling food onto my plate.

When she was lucid, she would never treat me like this. Most days, I sat at the farthest end of the table, as far away from the food as possible.

Mom and Dad always sat beside my brother’s framed photo. The chicken drumstick, the most tender pork rib, and the sweetest slice from the center of the watermelon were always reserved for him.

The only time I ever got to taste them was when Mom forgot I was not him.

After dinner, she led me into my brother’s room and tucked me into his soft bed. After carefully pulling the blanket over me, she sat beside the bed and gently patted my back.

“Go to sleep. I'm right here.”

I heard this used to be my brother’s bedtime routine. He was afraid of the dark. He could not fall asleep unless Mom stayed with him.

When I was six, a thunderstorm kept me awake. I clutched my pillow and ran to my brother’s room looking for Mom. Instead, she shoved me right out the front door.

“You’re already competing with your brother for attention at your age? I’ve never seen such a selfish son!”

I cried until my voice was almost gone, but she did not let me back inside until sunrise. Now, as I savored the motherly love I had spent my whole life longing for, I silently counted down in my head.

Five, four, three, two…

The instant I reached one, her eyes snapped back into focus. The warmth vanished from her face, replaced by pure hatred.

“Why are you in Henry’s bed? Are you trying to steal the last place that still belongs to him? Get out!”

She yanked me off the bed, and I slipped out the door before she could throw her slippers at me. I had gotten good at knowing exactly when to run.

I returned to my own room—a storage closet that had been converted into a bedroom. Compared to my brother’s cozy room, mine was barely fit for anyone to live in. It never saw sunlight. It stayed damp and freezing year-round, leaving me with eczema that kept coming back.

Once, the itching became unbearable, and I begged my parents to move to a bigger house. I did not want my brother’s room. I just wanted a bedroom with some sunlight. We could easily afford it.

However, Dad answered with a slap across my face, while Mom’s hand shook with anger as she pointed at me.

“This is the only home your brother ever knew! If we move, he'll never find his way back! How can you be so selfish?”

Hence, I returned to that cramped little storage room. Even then it was not really mine. Two-thirds of the space was filled with my brother’s belongings—his acoustic guitar, model airplanes, and roller skates.

They had long since gathered dust. I was not even allowed to touch them because they still carried his scent. I was not allowed to erase it.

After calming Mom down, Dad came into my room for what was probably the first time in years.

“The Education Bureau has finished its investigation. You didn't cheat. We were wrong.”

I said nothing. I only looked at him.

“Harry, your brother drowned the day before he was supposed to start college. That’s the greatest pain your mother has ever known. So even if you're the top scorer, you’re still going to that community college. That’s your fate. You need to accept it.”

In the darkness, I put on a faint smile. “I accept it.”

As I watched him leave with a satisfied look on his face, in my heart, I silently finished the thought. I would follow Henry's fate and drown myself the day before college began.