The Truth Behind My Brother’s Death

My stepmother loathed me. As a child, I’d left our yard gate open while playing at a friend’s house. My younger brother wandered out, was hit by a car, and died. My father, who adored him, shattered with grief and accused me of leaving the gate open on purpose. He locked me in the basement and raised me like an animal. Years later, starving after days without food, I crept upstairs and overheard my stepmother with her lover. “If you hadn’t left the gate open,” she whispered, “I wouldn’t fear my husband learning we killed Michael.” It was them all along. She saw me, panicked, and threw me down the stairs. I woke up again on the day my brother died. This time, I pointed upstairs and sweetly told my father, “Daddy, I did close the gate. The man in Mommy’s bedroom left it open.”

1 “Lily, did you really see a man leave the gate open?!” My father stood just outside the yard, his bloodshot eyes boring into me. A cold sneer formed in my mind. Look at him. So broken up over his precious son. In my last life, I explained over and over that I’d closed the gate, but he only listened to the venom my stepmother whispered in his ear. He was utterly convinced that I had murdered his only son. My own mother died bringing me into this world. Before her memorial was even over, he brought my stepmother—already pregnant—into our home. That woman, Charlotte, secured her position as the lady of the house with a premature baby boy, a birth that ruined her body and left her unable to have any more children. So Michael became the center of my father’s universe. After Michael died, Dad treated me like a dog. I ate from a dog bowl, slept in a cage, and was forced to bark to appease his impotent rage and his guilt towards Charlotte. This time, I wouldn’t be so stupid. I would use his masculine pride, his all-consuming love for his son, to drag that wretched pair through the mud. So the first thing I did after being reborn was to head straight home to catch my stepmother in the act. But I never made it. As I turned back, I saw him—Michael, standing right in the middle of the road. In the distance, my father’s face was a mask of horror. I was closer. Wanting to make a good impression this time, I lunged forward and pulled Michael back just as the car screeched past. I saved him, but not entirely. He didn’t die instantly like before, but the tires crushed his legs, leaving him crippled. “Honey!” Charlotte’s shriek tore through the air. She scrambled over, snot and tears streaming down her face, and clung to my father’s arm. “Don’t listen to this little bitch’s lies! Her mother died, and she’s always hated us! She opened the gate on purpose! She wanted to kill Michael!” Before Dad could react, I scurried over on my little legs and threw my arms around his thighs. I tilted my grimy face up, looking at him with the purest, most innocent eyes I could muster. “No, Daddy, I didn’t!” My voice was small and thick with tears, overflowing with injustice. “I want a mommy to love me too, but she doesn’t. I thought… I thought if I was nice to Michael, you would both love me…” I squeezed out a few fat tears as I spoke, my little hand pointing towards my brother, who was wailing in pain from his shattered legs. “I give Michael my milk every day, and I let him play with my favorite teddy bear… Just now, if I hadn’t pulled him back, he would have flown up to heaven and couldn’t play with me anymore. My teacher says we have to be kind and look after the young. I did that, Lily is a good girl. You have to believe me, Daddy.” Since I had always acted sweet to Michael to please my father, the words flowed from my lips without a hint of shame. I hugged his leg tighter, clinging to him with all the desperate strength a child could possess. Then, I cast my line. “If you don’t believe me, you can go upstairs right now and find that man! I bet he hasn’t even left yet!”

2 My father’s face darkened, twisting into a thunderous mask. He reached down and pinched my cheek, his voice a low growl. “Daddy believes you.” With that, he spun around and stormed towards the house, moving not like a man about to catch a cheater, but like a soldier heading into battle. Charlotte’s face went white. She tried to grab him but missed, stamping her foot in desperation. “Honey! The most important thing right now is getting our son to the hospital!” But my father could tolerate many things, but not betrayal. Not this. His son’s legs were nothing compared to his pride. He didn’t even look back as he charged upstairs. Of course, he found nothing. The man was long gone. But the cloying scent of a strange men’s cologne hung heavy in the air, a scent so thick it was suffocating. Charlotte, ever the actress, burst into fresh tears. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out an exquisitely packaged bottle of men’s cologne, her voice choked with sobs. “Honey, this was a gift for you. I wanted it to be a surprise…” It was an excuse a ghost wouldn’t believe. But my father had no proof. An ambulance wailed in the distance, arriving to take Michael away. Before he got in, my father stared hard at Charlotte, hissing through his teeth, “If I find out some bastard was the reason my son’s legs were broken, I’ll make sure his entire family pays.” I was frantic but powerless. I knew Charlotte was cunning, that she had prepared for this. I couldn’t beat her in one move; I’d have to find another chance. At the hospital, Michael wouldn’t stop crying from the pain. I immediately rushed to his bedside, grabbing his small hand. “Don’t cry, Michael,” I choked out. “Big sister is here.” He must have been dazed from the fall, or maybe my false kindness over the years had actually worked. He instinctively burrowed into my side. “Lily saved me,” he mumbled. My father, standing nearby, praised me for being so mature. But then his gaze fell on Michael’s cast-covered legs, and he sighed heavily. “Thank God,” he muttered, “it wasn’t worse.” With no proof, the mystery of the open gate remained just that. My father could only eye Charlotte with suspicion, while she played the part of the devoted, gentle wife to perfection, insisting the old gate latch had simply given way. And so, the matter was quietly dropped. Back home, Charlotte’s kindness towards me became almost suffocating. She cooked my favorite meals, bought me beautiful new dresses, and even tucked me in at night. She was so tender, you’d think I was her real daughter. My father saw all of this, and his suspicions began to fade. He probably figured that even if a woman had strayed, she’d come back to her senses for the sake of her child and her family. But I knew better. The nicer she was, the more it proved her guilt. She was desperately trying to wash the filth off herself so she could dump it all back onto me. I was waiting. Waiting for the fox to show its tail. But for all my planning, all my caution, I had underestimated her venom. One Saturday morning, Charlotte sent me upstairs to my room to do my homework. She then wheeled a sleeping Michael out onto the second-floor balcony to get some sun. I looked up from my workbook, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. And then it happened. Just as my father pushed open the front door, a loud crash, followed by Charlotte’s bloodcurdling scream, echoed from the stairwell. “Aaaah! Lily! How could you push your brother!” My father, just stepping inside, froze. He looked up and saw me, standing in the second-floor hallway. And below, at the bottom of the stairs, Michael lay tangled in his overturned wheelchair.

3 I clenched my fists. Stay calm, Lily. You have to stay calm. “Daddy, I didn’t push him,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to sound like a terrified child. “I was in my room doing my homework. Mommy was on the balcony with Michael.” My father was holding my unconscious brother, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me like a predator about to pounce. Charlotte immediately jumped in. “I told Lily to watch Michael on the second floor while I went next door to borrow some scallions from Mrs. Gable! She can prove it!” A cold smile touched my lips. A perfect alibi. She had timed my father’s return perfectly, deliberately finding a neighbor to be her witness. Sure enough, Mrs. Gable, who had always been friendly with Charlotte, squeezed through the crowd of onlookers, her face a mask of righteousness. “It’s true, Daniel. Charlotte was just at my place getting scallions for that braised fish you love so much! I saw her walk back into her yard with my own two eyes!” She wasn’t finished. She pointed a finger at me, her voice dripping with condemnation. “But your daughter here, when we came over, we saw her just standing on the second floor, staring down at the scene without a single reaction! Honestly, Lily, how can a child be so cruel? I bet it was you who left the gate open last time, wasn’t it?” Her words were like a stone tossed into a pond, sending ripples of gossip through the neighbors. “She’s right, that girl’s always had a mean look about her.” “So jealous at such a young age. She’ll be real trouble when she’s older.” Seeing her advantage, Charlotte covered her face and began to sob, her body slumping weakly against my father. “Honey, don’t blame Lily. The gate incident was probably just an accident, and maybe… maybe this wasn’t on purpose either…” Her feigned defense only sealed my guilt. My father’s gaze turned to ice. He had seen it. He had seen Charlotte rushing in from the yard in a panic, while I stood on the second floor like a cold, detached spectator. Seeing is believing. “Last time, I saw you pull your brother back with my own eyes, and I believed you,” my father’s voice was hoarse, terrifying. “Now, I see you push him down the stairs with my own eyes! What else do you have to say for yourself!” The trust in his eyes shattered, replaced by a disgust so thick it was palpable. “You don’t even look scared. Lily, that rescue last time… was that all an act for me too?” Tears instantly welled in my eyes. “It wasn’t me!” I screamed, crying. “It was the man Mommy brought home! The same man from before! That’s why Mommy had time to go see Mrs. Gable!” “Daddy, don’t you believe me?” Through my sobs, I yelled with all my might, “Call the police! We have to call the police! On TV, they say to call the police when you’re in trouble! Let the officers check the wheelchair for fingerprints. They’ll prove that Lily is innocent!” I saw my father’s arm, wrapped around Charlotte, loosen slightly. I knew my words were working. I choked back a sob, my eyes fixed on my unconscious brother. “Daddy, if there’s really a bad person in our house who wants to hurt Michael, what’s going to happen to him?” That question was a needle, piercing straight into his most vulnerable spot. Charlotte’s face went deathly pale. She bit her lip, then, as if making a decision, she lifted her head, her eyes swimming with tears as she looked at my father. “That’s what I should be saying to you! The three of us were happy. If it wasn’t for this little monster, would our family ever know peace?” Her voice was thick with emotion, every word torn from her soul. “Honey, I gave up everything to be with you, to give you a son. How could I possibly harm our own flesh and blood? I cook for you every day, I keep this house perfect, have you forgotten all of that?” “It doesn’t matter if you misunderstand me, but I’m scared for you! I’m scared you’ll be blinded by this ungrateful viper and live to regret it!”