On the Snowy Mountain, Mom Gave My Brother the Last Oxygen Tube

The heavy snow fell fast, quickly burying my corpse.

I watched as my soul tore away from my body, forced down the mountain by a blinding white light.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room.

I was right next to my mother, but she couldn't see me anymore.

I smiled bitterly.

Honestly, what difference did it make?

Even when I was alive, she never really saw me.

"Charles, sweetheart, how are you feeling? Does it still hurt?"

Mom stared at Charles with complete devotion.

She looked like she would gladly suffer in his place.

The door slammed open.

Dad rushed into the room, carefully holding a bowl of hot soup.

His voice was laced with panic.

"How is Charles? Is he any better? I had the hotel owner brew some chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot to warm yourself up."

"His symptoms are mild," the doctor said, finishing a quick checkup.

"He just needs some rest. You don't need to worry too much."

After giving those few instructions, the doctor left.

"Mom, Dad, I'm fine. It's just..."

Charles cut himself off with a couple of dry coughs.

Seeing our parents hovering over him with such desperate concern, a flash of smugness crossed his eyes.

He couldn't hide it.

Playing the innocent victim, he casually brought me up.

"Where is Kyle? It's snowing so hard outside. I'm really worried about his safety."

Charles made a show of trying to get out of bed to look for me.

Mom immediately stopped him.

Her face twisted in disgust.

"Kyle has been lying to get attention since he was a child. He knew you were weak, yet he still tried to steal your oxygen tank. He is utterly selfish."

She sneered, looking toward the window.

"He actually dared to use his own health to threaten us this time.

“Let's see if he really throws a tantrum and dies just because he didn't get his way!"

I froze.

Slowly, I raised my hand to touch my cheek.

It was wet.

Well, she got her wish. This time, I was really dead.