I Died Keeping His Secret

I found out my brother was an undercover cop the day I was kidnapped.

The drug lord forced him to inject me with a high-purity, experimental substance.

It was the only way to earn enough trust to handle the shipment.

From that moment on, I, who had dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina, was turned into an addict—a pariah everyone kept their distance from.

My brother, Caden, knelt before me, his eyes raw and bloodshot.

“I ruined you, Sloan… Just hold on. I swear I will make you well again.”

That promise was the anchor that kept me biting back on countless nights when I wanted to end it all.

The breaking point came this New Year’s Day when Caden’s superior officer came to our house for a welfare visit.

A familiar coldness crawled up my spine.

As the officer watched in stunned silence, I convulsed, knocking an entire serving dish of holiday casserole onto the floor.

Mom instantly lunged forward, pressing me down hard and explaining on instinct.

“I am so sorry, Chief! She… she has epilepsy…”

Caden hauled me up and locked me inside my bedroom.

A long time later, I heard strained, quiet voices drifting from the living room.

“Caden, this family… we are barely holding on.”

“Mom, sometimes… sometimes I wish she had died the day she was taken, instead of living like this…”

Yet, when I finally gave them their wish and died the very next day, why did their tears look like they had lost everything?

1

The withdrawal was seizing me again.

Mom held me tightly, stopping me from clawing at my own hair.

It felt like tiny insects were crawling through my bone marrow, alternating between freezing cold and searing hot.

My consciousness frayed under the torture, my voice a thin, reedy whisper.

“Mom, please…”

Before I could finish, Mom raised her hand and delivered a slap that snapped my head sideways.

“Be quiet!”

Her eyes were edged with a desperate kind of ferocity.

“Your father and your brother are police officers. How can you be doing this? How can you disgrace them? If your Dad in heaven knew you were like this—a shell of yourself—it would kill him all over again!”

To keep the secret, Caden hadn’t told her the truth.

He had just said I’d been carelessly dosed by someone when I was out with friends.

The door burst open.

It was Caden.

He dropped the things in his hands and rushed to stand in front of me.

“Mom, don’t blame Sloan. She… she was victimized.”

Tears streamed from Mom’s swollen, red eyes.

Her voice was choked.

“If she hadn’t been out running around with God knows what kind of lowlifes, how would this have happened?!”

“If she hadn’t gone to those places, who would have had the chance to do this to her?!”

She started sobbing uncontrollably.

“My perfect daughter, my little girl… my daughter…”

She dissolved into wrenching cries.

Caden’s face cycled through pain and internal conflict.

Finally, he started hitting himself, open-handed slaps across his own face.

“Mom, hit me. It’s my fault… Don’t hurt her.”

He hit himself hard. His face quickly began to swell.

Mom rushed forward, wrapping her arms around both of us.

She wept with a terrifying, heart-wrenching sound.

I watched my nearest and dearest break down before me.

And yet, my eyes remained dry. I was numb.

I stared blankly at the ceiling.

Only a few months ago, my life felt full of infinite possibility. Accepted into my dream school, ready to step onto the big stage.

Now, all that was left was a hollow casing—a body I inhabited only so they wouldn’t hurt more.

Caden eventually managed to coax Mom back to her room.

He came back into mine, crouching by the bed. He carefully avoided the bruises on my arms and took my hand.

“Sloan, I have failed you…”

He had said those words too many times.

“I found a specialist overseas. They have a new drug in clinical trials. Once it’s approved, you’ll get better…”

“Later… later we can start slow. Dancing isn’t totally off the table…”

My hand was ice-cold. His palm was slick with sweat.

I lowered my head and pressed my fingers into my own calf.

It felt soft and spongy, like it was stuffed with cotton.

Before, when I flexed, I could see beautiful, taut muscle definition.

I closed my eyes, refusing to think about it.

“Caden, stop torturing yourself.”

In this state, I couldn’t dance. Not ever again.

“How can you call this torturing myself!”

His voice spiked suddenly, his eyes immediately welling up.

“You will get better, do you hear me? I’m staking my life on it, Sloan, you will!”

I nodded and quickly changed the subject.

“Caden, help me walk. I want to go outside.”

I hadn’t left this room in weeks.

Thinking his words had worked, he happily helped me up, offering to walk me around the block.

As we walked through the living room, I noticed the top of the entertainment center was empty.

It used to be lined with photos of me dancing since I was a child.

The frame from my first big award, hanging on the wall, was gone too.

It left a clean, rectangular outline where the sun hadn’t faded the paint.

The trophies, medals, and certificates had all been boxed up.

Inside an open cardboard box, right on top, was the photo of me winning the gold medal for Giselle last year.

Caden’s grip on my elbow tightened instantly.

He offered a rushed, flustered explanation.

“Mom… Mom was afraid you’d dwell on the past, so she packed it away. Please don’t be mad…”

I cut him off.

“I know. I don’t blame Mom.”

“I… I don’t want to see them either, anymore.”

He stared at me, his hand clutching my wrist, not letting go for a long time.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the master bedroom door, which had been left slightly ajar, click quietly shut.

“Sloan, I got you a New Year’s gift. You’re going to love it.”

To distract me, he quickly spoke up.

Then, with a mysterious air, he pulled out an elegant shopping bag.

I paused, then opened it.

Inside was the red, mermaid-style cocktail dress I had wanted for ages.

I was completely stunned.

Caden had remembered that I wanted this specific dress.

But he had forgotten why.

I wanted it to wear on stage to accept my next major award.

2

Caden urged me, his tone artificially cheerful, to try the dress on.

“New year, new clothes. Go try it on quickly. We’ll show Mom when you’re done.”

I pinched the soft fabric between my fingers. My fingertips were cold.

He pressed my shoulder and ushered me into the room, saying jokingly.

“Don’t be shy in front of your big brother. Take your time changing. I’ll wait right outside.”

Closing the door, I took off my sweats.

The person in the mirror had ribs showing clearly, and skin that was an unhealthy, bluish-white.

The firm, fluid muscle lines I used to have were now just a layer of thin skin stretched over bone.

Mechanically, I shook out the red dress and slipped it on. The waist was loose.

I stared at the skeleton draped in the gorgeous red silk in the mirror. My stomach flipped with nausea.

“Sloan? Are you ready? How does it fit?”

Caden tapped lightly on the door.

His voice held a tense nervousness.

I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

He immediately forced a smile.

“… My sister looks good in anything. This color really brightens your complexion.”

His voice was dry.

“It’s just… a little too big. You need to eat more, starting now.”

He avoided my eyes.

I couldn’t stand the oppressive silence.

“Caden, I really want to go for a walk.”

A look of relief flashed across his face.

“Let’s go. I’ll go with you.”

We walked slowly around the complex. A light snow was beginning to fall.

I suddenly saw a small dog whose paw was frozen to the ice on the ornamental pond.

It was barely breathing, unable to even whimper.

I was about to tug on Caden’s sleeve.

That was when his phone vibrated.

“Sloan, I…”

He clenched the phone in his hand, his knuckles white.

“Something came up with the unit—it’s urgent. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Go home first and wait for me, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I nodded.

After some hesitation, I rescued the puppy.

I was soaked and freezing. After dropping the dog off at the building management office, I went home.

The first thing I did was rush into the bathroom and dry-heave over the toilet.

Tears sprang from my eyes.

That was when Mom opened the door.

She froze at the sight of me hunched over the toilet bowl.

Her eyes instantly turned cold as ice.

“You touched it again, didn’t you?”

Her voice trembled.

“Sloan, you are truly beyond hope. Look at you. How are you anything like my daughter anymore?”

Her gaze was nearly despairing, as if she was crushed beneath an unbearable weight.

She violently yanked me off the floor and lashed out with accusations.

“Do you know your brother is up for a major commendation this year? Can you stop screwing things up for him right now?! Do you want to drag him down, ruin him, and destroy this family for good?!”

“I didn’t—”

I was just with Caden.

But before I could speak, she raised her hand. Another slap, stinging my cheek.

More painful than the slap was the disappointment and contempt in her eyes.

“How could I have given birth to such a… thing…”

She broke down crying.

I slid down onto the floor, staring at the bathroom ceiling.

I recalled the past few minutes.

After dropping the puppy off, I had run into Mrs. Peterson from upstairs having a seizure.

I rushed to stop her from biting her tongue.

But I was too late.

She had thrown up all over me. The smell was awful, mixed with the wet, fishy scent of the puppy.

It had made me dry-heave uncontrollably.

But all she saw was me clutching the toilet.

And she assumed I had relapsed.

Tears traced paths down my cheeks.

I finally understood, with chilling clarity.

I had become the permanent, unforgivable stain on my father’s, mother’s, and brother’s lives.

But I had once shone so brightly.

I had once been cherished, held in their palms as their greatest treasure.

I reached out, trying to touch Mom’s hand, wanting to tell her.

Don’t cry. Your daughter didn’t let you down.

But the moment I touched her, she recoiled sharply.

We both froze.

I closed my eyes in self-derision.

God, I was so tired.

3

On the first day of the new year, Caden had to attend his commendation ceremony.

Mom prepared breakfast and lunch for us.

Before leaving, she tapped on my door, reminding me to eat.

Then she locked me in and left with Caden.

Listening to the click of the front door, I walked out of my bedroom.

I looked at the apartment, now scrubbed clean of any trace of my former life.

I walked to the window and resolutely climbed out.

Mom. Caden.

I am so tired. I’m going to go see Dad.

My body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Soon, the sirens started. My face was already unrecognizable.

I was only wearing the red dress Caden had given me.

No one would know who I was.

I sighed a tiny breath of relief.

It was better if no one did.

After I died, I didn’t vanish. My soul simply returned to the apartment.

There was an invisible, transparent wall preventing me from leaving.

The downstairs area grew quiet again. The smell of cooking drifted up from outside.

I heard the front door open. Mom walked in, her face beaming, carrying a large bouquet of lilies.

Caden had another bar on his shoulder epaulet.

They were talking about the ceremony.

“Caden, who was that cute girl who presented you with the flowers on stage?”

Mom gave him a knowing look, then gestured with the lilies in her hand.

Caden flushed shyly, quickly waving her off.

“Just a co-worker, Mom. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have just brought lilies.”

Mom reached out and pinched his bright red earlobe.

“Sounds like you’re disappointed she didn’t bring you roses? Lilies, lilies, lasting harmony—you young people don’t know anything. I think that girl is quite nice—”

Mom’s cheerful tone died abruptly when she saw the untouched food sitting on the kitchen table.

Caden followed her gaze.

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deep frown.

“Why hasn’t Sloan eaten anything?”

He started walking toward my room.

Mom suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Let her stew. She’s an adult. She has to take responsibility for her own mistakes. She can’t just throw a tantrum and hide. I’ve spoiled her too much.”

Caden glanced at the table and lowered his voice, as if afraid I’d hear.

“Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s been very strong, she…”

Something in his words suddenly struck a nerve with Mom.

Her voice rose sharply.

“Strong? If she was strong, would she have gone to those trashy places and picked up that stuff? I should have chained her to her bed! Saved her from throwing herself away!”

“Mom!”

Caden’s voice was urgent, his volume involuntarily increasing.

“Don’t say that. It’s not like that. The truth is…”

He suddenly stopped, as if someone had choked him. Not a single word came out.

I understood. He had an oath. He couldn’t tell her.

He was also afraid the truth would crush Mom or put her in danger.

But it didn’t matter now. Let her keep the misunderstanding.

Perhaps it would make her hurt less.

Mom stared at Caden, sharply sensing his distress.

“Are you two keeping something from me?”

Caden instinctively shook his head.

“No, Mom. Nothing. Sloan knows she made a mistake. She never wanted this…”

Mom waved a hand impatiently.

She had clearly tired of those words. No matter how many times they were repeated, the proud daughter she remembered was never coming back.

That night, Caden brought home my favorite snacks and knocked on my door.

“Sloan, don’t be mad at Mom. This is hard on her too…”

When I didn’t open the door, he sighed.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, and I know you feel cheated, but please think about Mom. She doesn’t know anything.”

“I’ll leave the snacks here by your door. Get them when you’re ready.”

He stood there for a moment longer, then slowly put the bag down.

His face held an immense fatigue, and a flicker of disappointment.

He must have thought I was sulking, mad at Mom, and avoiding both of them.

But he didn’t know that I would never walk out of that door again.

And I would never be mad at them again.

How could the dead hold grudges against the living?

4

The next morning, Caden left for work. He saw the snacks still sitting by the door and paused.

He knocked once, then sighed.

“Sloan, when I get back, I’ll take you for a walk, or wherever you want to go. I promise I won’t leave you alone again this time.”

There was no reply from inside.

Caden walked away, his steps heavy.

Mom got up and glanced at the snacks on the floor. Her expression mirrored Caden’s.

But she didn’t knock on my door.

She seemed determined to teach me a lesson.

When she walked into the kitchen, she noticed the balcony window was open just a crack.

She froze for a second, then casually shut it.

She prepared and ate her breakfast as usual.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was urgent.

My soul leaped up.

The police?

Mom got up to answer it. I floated over.

But I saw Mrs. Peterson holding several bags of fruit.

“Evelyn, where’s Sloan? I came to thank her.”

Mom seemed confused, but invited Mrs. Peterson in.

The older woman grabbed Mom’s hand.

“Evelyn, you’re a gem. My kids are far away, and I’m so lucky you look out for me. Sloan, she takes after you—kind-hearted, exactly your temper.”

Mom hadn’t quite processed it, accepting the fruit stiffly.

It took her a moment to find her voice.

“Mrs. Peterson, that’s kind of you. Just being neighbors. But you came to thank Sloan?”

“Yes! If it weren’t for Sloan, I’d be dead. I had a seizure two days ago, collapsed on the ground. It was your Sloan—she put her hand in my mouth to keep me from biting my tongue. I even threw up all over her. If she doesn’t mind, I want to take her out to buy some new clothes today.”

Mom froze completely at Mrs. Peterson’s words, her eyes widening.

“Mrs. Peterson, are you saying… that was your vomit on Sloan the other day?”

“She saved you?”

Mom finally registered the truth, and a flash of guilt crossed her eyes.

“Yes, she did! Why isn’t she here? Go call her out. I want to tell her myself.”

Mom shook her head.

A look of resigned guilt appeared on her face as she forced a small, apologetic laugh.

“I misunderstood her over this yesterday. She’s giving me the silent treatment now. Please sit down, Auntie. I’ll go get her.”

Mom walked toward my bedroom door, step by step. Just as she raised her hand to knock.

The doorbell rang again.

More insistent and urgent this time.

Mom frowned instinctively and went to open the door first.

Three people in police uniforms showed their badges.

Mom recognized the lead officer from the commendation ceremony yesterday.

Her face went pale, and she asked anxiously.

“Did something happen to my Caden?”

The officer’s expression was somber. He shook his head.

“Ma’am, it’s not Caden. It’s your daughter, Sloan.”

“Someone jumped from an apartment building in the complex yesterday. We suspect it may be Sloan. We need you to come with us to make an identification.”