When I Was 7 My brother Whent Into Anatalatcic Shock Partc 2

"This doesn't make sense," I whispered, my hand on the door knob. "We can't tell mom and dad," he whispered back into the darkness. "You can't be my mate!?" I hissed back, "You're my brother." "I'm not going to resist the sparks, April," he growled, "or the pull, and feeling of want... Do you hear me?" "W-what?" "I want you so bad it hurts," he whispered. It was like my lips moved and spoke for me. "Then take me." His warm lips smashed onto mine, finding them in the dark. Sparks lit the tiny closet up, and suddenly I knew where he was, almost as if we were in a room full of light. I could see every move he made, and I wanted him to make a move on me. I kissed him back with force and longing. My first kiss is with my brother. My mate

Ever since I was born, my parents bound me to a Pain Transfer System. My body was covered in scars. My older brother, Dylan Jeater, had albinism and Hydroa Vacciniforme. His condition was so severe that he could not be exposed to any light. Doctors determined that he would only live to be sixteen years old. However, Dylan had always been playful. He often snuck outside. Eventually, his body was covered in sores. My father, Robert Jeater, worked day and night to earn money. He finally bought two Pain Transfer System wristbands at a high price for Dylan and me. For six years, the pain Dylan felt from every sun exposure had been transferred to me. My mother, May Jeater, always held me gently and treated my wounds. She said, “Chester, I’m sorry. I just want Dylan to be happy in the time he has left. I hope you understand.” On New Year’s Eve, my parents took Dylan out. It was very sunny that day. As soon as we left the house, my whole body broke out in blisters. I could not help but cry out in pain. Dylan tore off his wristband and broke down sobbing. “Does it hurt? Fine, if you think it hurts so much, then turn off the transfer! Let me just die of the pain! “I’ll only live up to sixteen anyway. I’m going to die sooner or later.” His body became severely sunburned, and he lost consciousness. Mom shoved me to the ground. “Dylan never complained once in all those years of pain! After only six years of it being passed to you, you’re already breaking down?! “He’s only going to live to be sixteen! Is it wrong to want him to be happy in his last few years?” Dad picked up Dylan. “I don’t want you getting hurt either, but the pain can only be transferred between biological brothers.” They then rushed him to the hospital. I picked up the wristband from the ground. A message popped up on the screen. [Do you want to transfer your remaining lifespan to the linked user?] Without any hesitation, I pressed confirm.

On Halloween, I was secretly reunited with my long-lost mafia parents. They offered to take me home, but because I couldn't bear to leave the three brothers in my foster family, I refused to go with my parents. Getting back home, I changed into the white dress and bracelet given to me by my brothers as gifts. However, this triggered the jealousy and crying tantrums of their biological sister, Tiana. To avoid putting my brothers in a difficult position, I agreed to take off the dress and bracelet. Despite that, she wasn't satisfied. To appease their biological sister that they had been separated from for years, my three brothers forcefully locked me inside a transparent decorative coffin, despite knowing that I suffered from severe claustrophobia. Suffocating, I frantically banged on the coffin's glass, begging them for help. Tiana stood on the side, smirking at me maliciously. "Sarah, aren't you a professional actress? Why is your acting so exaggerated and fake? You're just locked inside, not being strangled, so why are you gasping?" My brothers knit their brows in annoyance. "It's just a little prank. How can you not even last ten minutes? Can't you just tolerate it for a bit?" "I checked it myself. The coffin has air vents and we're standing right here watching you the whole time! You won't be in any danger, and it's impossible for you to suffocate!" "If you didn't want to make Tiana happy, you could have just said you aren't willing! There's no need to fake being miserable and pitiful just to get our attention and sympathy!" But I wasn't faking. The phobia triggered a severe stress response and it brought on an asthma attack, cutting off my airway. Through the glass, I looked at them in sheer agony and despair. I was really going to die...

My parents always said the world had no sympathy for the weak. So from the moment my younger brother and I could walk, they put us through what they called the 'Strong Child Program.' At five years old, we had to run five kilometers every day. If we could not finish, we were not allowed to eat. At seven, my brother broke his arm. My parents refused to let the doctors use anesthesia, saying enduring pain was a lesson every strong person had to learn. At nine, I burned with a 104℉ fever. Instead of taking me to the hospital, they wiped my body with ice water and forced me to endure it because 'sick children grow stronger immunity.' Then, on the first day of summer vacation, my father announced this year's special training: We were going to learn to swim in the Roaring Spine River. No life jackets. No safety gear. "You only learn after choking on water a few times," my father said. But my brother choked over a hundred times and still could not swim. I desperately swam toward him, trying to pull him back to shore, but somehow the distance between us only kept growing. I called my father, screaming for help, begging him to call emergency services. But after listening to me, he only snorted coldly. "Who learns swimming without swallowing some water? "Your brother isn't made of paper. "Stop yelling and focus on learning to swim." But by then, my brother had already been swept away by the current…

When my brother, Adrian Carter, storms out of the house in anger, I go out in the pouring rain to find him—only to be struck by a fallen live wire, resulting in the complete loss of both my arms. From then on, I, who dreamed of becoming a doctor, have been doomed to be a patient forever. I make multiple attempts on my life. My family wrestles me back from the clutches of death every time. Adrian crouches down in front of me and begs, "It's my fault. Please don't die." Mom quits her job and keeps me company all day long. "You mean more to me than my life! What am I supposed to do if you're gone?" To earn more money and help me regain the ability to live normally, Dad works as hard as he can and even takes on more work abroad. I assume that life will eventually get better. But after I've finally learned how to use my feet in place of my hands for everything, I inadvertently overhear a conversation. "If I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have stopped her from killing herself." The next day, I climb to the rooftop alone. The wind is howling. It makes me sniffle, but no tears fall.

My mother was an education expert who believed in the teaching method of using others as a cautionary tale. She had high hopes for my big brother, Joe, and I was used as a tool to discipline and educate him. Every time Joe did something wrong, my mother would double the punishment for me to make him remember his mistakes. When we were young, Joe touched a socket with a wet finger. As such, my mother tied me to a metal chair that was connected to electrical wires. I convulsed and started foaming at the mouth and lost control of my bowels. It scared Joe so much that he never touched another socket again. Another time, Joe saw a homeless dog and reached out to pet him. As a result, my mother found a ferocious mongrel and locked me up in a metal cage with it. I was badly bitten by the dog and wounded all over. Since then, Joe never touched another animal. My mother's methods took a turn for the worse before Joe took his SATs. He could not take it any longer and said, "I want to cut all ties with you after my SATs. I'd rather die than live as your puppet!" Joe's words prompted my mother to grab me by the hair and lock me up in a coffin. "How dare you threaten me with death? You should learn what death really looks like today!" However, my mother forgot that I had asthma. I smiled with relief as my body started becoming lighter. Mom, this would be the last time I would serve as my big brother's cautionary tale.