One Sentence Before Death

My younger brother, Jason Callahan, died the day before school started.

He jumped from the sixteenth floor of our apartment building.

His head was twisted unnaturally to one side. There was not much blood. His tiny body lay curled in a dark pool beneath him.

However, the strangest thing was the expression on his face.

He was smiling.

The moment people saw that smile, the entire crowd sucked in a sharp breath.

It was still the face of a child, young and innocent at first glance, yet the smile carried something vicious and unsettling far beyond his age.

It sent chills crawling across everyone's skin.

Mom cried until she nearly collapsed. Dad, who had stood tall and proud his entire life, suddenly seemed bent under an invisible weight, smoking one cigarette after another in silence.

The police tried to comfort us while going through procedure.

"If there's a suicide note, we can officially close this as a suicide case."

So the whole family began searching through my brother's room, hoping to find some kind of final message.

Grandpa was the first to find it.

The note contained only a single sentence.

He stood there holding the paper, his face frozen in shock.

Then, suddenly, he let out a shattered cry.

"Jason…"

His reaction left all of us stunned. Dad stepped forward immediately.

"Dad, what did Jason write?"

Grandpa looked at us deeply, one by one.

Then, without warning, he threw the note aside.

Before anyone could react, he opened the window and climbed out.

By the time we realized what was happening, he had already jumped.

Blood bloomed across the ground below. Grandpa's body lay beside my brother's.

And just like my brother…

The corners of Grandpa's mouth were curled upward in a faint smile.

After Grandpa died, Dad picked up the suicide note with trembling hands.

The moment he read it, all color drained from his face.

Then he folded the paper and hid it inside his jacket, refusing to let anyone else see it.

No matter how the police questioned him, Dad stayed silent.

After the funerals for my brother and grandfather were over, we returned home exhausted.

Mom's eyes were swollen raw from crying.

"What exactly did Jason write?" she sobbed hoarsely. "Why did your father kill himself after reading it?"

Dad sat there in silence, taking one last drag from his cigarette.

In that moment, he looked decades older.

"Stop asking," he said quietly. "From now on, pretend none of this ever happened."

"And no one is allowed to mention Jason again."

Mom had cried until there were barely any tears left, but she still demanded an answer through her broken voice.

"Jason was my son too! Don't I at least have the right to know what he left behind?"

"David Callahan, if you do this, Jason will hate you for it!"

Even I felt Dad was being cruel.

"Dad, no matter what, we're family. We deserve to know his final words."

"And Grandpa… why would he jump just because he read the note?"

None of it made sense to me.

However, before I could finish, Dad cut me off sharply.

He slammed his fist against the wall, his eyes bloodshot, his voice harsh and trembling.

"I already told you, the note said nothing important. You do not need to know.

"As for your grandfather…"