Why Did Bruno Die In The Boy In The Striped Pajamas?

Everyone in the family can see the countdown above Eli Nash, my brother, so we all know he dies the day he turns 16 years old. Thus, Eli becomes the most pampered person in the family. He gets all the good food, the latest limited-edition sneakers, and even the bedtime stories from Mom and Dad. I feel very bad for him, yet I am jealous of all the love he receives. I finally make it to the eve of his 16th birthday. But Mom and Dad fear that I will cause trouble, so they lock me in a storage room while I am suffering from a high fever. I panic as I bang on the door. "Please let me out, Mom! I'm running a fever, and my head hurts so badly!" Mom snaps through gritted teeth, "That's enough, Ash! Eli is going to die tomorrow! Why can't you just put up with it?" "I feel really sick, though…" I start losing consciousness as the sounds outside the door die down.

My brother, Charles Raymond, said he wanted a family mountain climbing trip. So, Mom forced me to go, completely ignoring my raging fever. Halfway up the snowy peak, Charles and I got severe altitude sickness. But Mom didn't care if I lived or died. She insisted on giving the very last oxygen tank to him, even though his symptoms were mild. When the rescue team finally arrived, I begged her to save me first. Instead, she looked at me with pure disgust. "There isn't enough room in the vehicle," she snapped. "Stop faking sickness just to compete with your brother. You're delaying his medical treatment." In the end, I was left behind. I died a brutal death in the endless, freezing snow. And my unloved life finally came to an end.

The day my little brother had his asthma attack, I poured every drop of his nebulizer medication down the bathroom sink. When Mom burst into the bathroom, the empty bottle was still dripping in my hand. Cradling my gasping brother in her arms, she slapped me across the face so hard that my ears rang. "You're only eight years old! How can you be this evil? Would you finally be happy if he died?" I wanted to tell her that the medicine was not the right one. The bottle smelled like harsh, burning bleach. The new nanny, Sophia, had grabbed the wrong bottle from the cleaning closet. But Mom didn't let me finish. She grabbed my arm, dragged me into the unfinished walk-in closet and locked the door from the outside. "You can come out when you realize your brother's life is more important than your petty jealousy." Outside, Dad was screaming while rushing my brother to the ER. Inside, I mistakenly knocked my foot over a plastic construction bucket and a thick, toxic white liquid began to puddle over my bare feet. I clawed at the door gap with my fingernails, sobbing, begging for Mom. The next morning, the hospital called. They confirmed that my brother's medication was laced with industrial cleaner. That was the exact moment Mom finally remembered that the key to the closet I was locked in was still sitting in her purse…

“It’s all right, Don Moretti. Go take care of your other child.” My six-year-old son raised one small hand and waved goodbye to his father. Matteo froze. For twenty-eight days, I had been teaching Luca to call him Don Moretti instead of Papa. It started the night Luca was burning with fever. Bianca Bellini sent word that her son was crying for Matteo, and my husband left our sick child without looking back. I held Luca against my chest and whispered, “Say goodnight to Don Moretti.” A week later, Matteo promised to attend Luca’s school presentation. Bianca sent for him again. Tommy had no father to sit beside him, she said. The other boys would laugh. Matteo went. I placed a sheet of paper in front of Luca and handed him a pen. “Write to your teacher,” I said. “Tell her Don Moretti will not be coming.” Every time Luca used the title, he hesitated. Sometimes the words took so long to leave his mouth that I nearly told him he could still call Matteo Papa. Then came the Moretti succession dinner. Matteo had promised to present Luca before every capo and elder, name him as his chosen heir, and give him a permanent seat at the Moretti table. Luca counted the days for two weeks. But outside the estate, Bianca’s driver stopped us with another message. Tommy was crying because the other children said he had no father. Pity crossed Matteo’s face. Before he could explain, Luca waved goodbye. “It’s all right, Don Moretti. Go take care of your other child.” Then he slipped his hand into mine. “Mom and I don’t need a seat at the Moretti table anymore.”

After Mom passes away, Dad brings home a stepmother. Dad says he doesn't want me growing up in a broken home and wants to make sure I never miss out on anyone's love. Even after they have a daughter, Bella Fraser, I remain the spoiled little prince of the family. One day, I accidentally put Bella's clothes on backward, and she starts crying, struggling to breathe. Dad snaps, completely losing his usual gentle demeanor. "I knew it! No matter how good I am to you, you're always going to resent Bella! Are you trying to destroy this family?" He shoves me out onto the balcony, telling me to stay there and think about what I've done. But he pushes me too hard, and the tiled floor is slick with winter ice. I lose my footing instantly. I slip right through the wide gaps in the railing and end up hanging from the colorful bunting from Bella's birthday party yesterday. The string wraps tightly around my neck. My breath cuts short, and I can't even squeeze out a scream. After a few desperate kicks, my strength completely fades. I watch as Dad and Mom carry Bella out for a trip while my soul weeps tears of blood. Mom, Dad, it hurts so bad. Please, just turn around and look at me.

When my best friend, Dulcie Quinn, and I went to Westhaven on vacation, my boyfriend, Shane Lewis, got me a lower berth in a soft-sleeper. Before I boarded, he pointed at the dark circles under his eyes. “I spent three days trying to snag you a lower berth so you’d be comfortable on the trip. “So no matter what, don’t give it up to anyone else. Not even Dulcie.” He looked so serious that I nodded and told him I understood. Sure enough, as soon as we boarded, Dulcie, who had the berth above mine, asked if we could switch. Remembering what Shane had told me, I shook my head and said no. I explained it to her too. I never expected something to go wrong that very night. When she climbed down to use the bathroom, she missed the handrail and fell. Clutching her stomach, she screamed, “My baby! My baby’s gone!” I did not even have time to ask when she had gotten pregnant. I rushed her off the train and took her to the nearest hospital. Late that night, Dulcie’s husband, Wallace Lambert, arrived at the hospital with Shane. By then, she had already undergone a D&C. The moment she saw me, she pointed at me and started cursing me out. “Do you have any idea how much I sacrificed for that baby?” Shane blamed me too. “I thought you were just joking when you said you were jealous of Dulcie. I never imagined you’d be cruel enough to do something like this!” I didn’t even get the chance to say a word before Wallace slammed me against the wall and strangled me to death. After I died, Dulcie ended up with Shane. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to three minutes before boarding the train.