She Chose My Brother Over Me

I was dead.

Yet somehow, after I died, I became a wandering spirit and found myself in my younger brother's hospital room.

Mom was usually the very picture of composure. She was the director of this hospital, after all. But now she was bent over Logan's bed, barely holding herself together.

"Logan, trust me. I'm going to make sure you get better."

Doctors crowded the room. I recognized them. They were the most accomplished surgeons in the entire hospital.

Logan looked pale enough to put on a convincing show, but I knew the truth. He had a few superficial scrapes. That was all.

"Mom," he whispered weakly, "am I going to die?"

Tears spilled from her eyes. She clutched his hand as though she could keep him alive through sheer force.

"I've brought in the very best doctors. Don't you worry."

The doctors had already seen his test results. There was nothing there that warranted such a production.

News that both of the hospital director's sons had been in a traffic accident had spread through the building. So had the fact that she'd ignored the older one. But who was going to challenge the woman who signed their paychecks?

Nurse Collins, who had been looking after me, hurried into the room.

"Dr. Waverly, your older son, Elliot..."

Mom cut her off before she could finish.

"Don't mention him to me! If it weren't for him, Logan wouldn't be lying here.

"Haven't his discharge papers already been processed? Tell him to go home and think about what he's done."

The nurse opened her mouth again. Then she lowered her eyes. She couldn't afford to lose her job.

Logan seized the moment.

"Is Elliot okay?" he asked, putting on an anxious face. "Maybe the doctors should go see him first."

Mom looked at him with unmistakable tenderness.

"What could possibly be wrong with him? He still has enough energy to put on a performance.

"I don't know how I ended up with a son like that. A few years living in the mountains, and he came back a feral little mountain kid.

"But you, Logan... You're thoughtful. You're kind. You even worry about other people when you're hurt.

"All I want is for you to be okay."

The words went through me like a blade. Other people. That was all I was to my own mother.

Perhaps she would even be relieved when she discovered she was finally rid of the wild boy she'd brought home from the mountains.

When I was six, Mom and Dad took Logan and me on a spring picnic in the hills outside the city. Logan was a year younger than I was. Back then, Mom still seemed to love us equally.

While our parents were busy preparing lunch, Logan lured me deep into the woods.

By the time I turned around, he'd vanished.

The only reason I survived that night was because an old man gathering firewood happened to find me. Grandpa Hale took me in and kept me alive.

Mom was a hospital director. If anyone should have known how dangerous a crash could be, it was her. She knew that someone could look perfectly fine on the outside while suffering catastrophic internal injuries.