The Good Brother With A Deadly Secret

Two days after I ran away, Savannah found me outside the hospital. She gripped my wrist so tightly it felt like a cuff, her eyes blazing red. “You ran away because I slapped you once? Are you trying to kill me with worry, Elias?” “How long are you going to keep this up? I’m begging you, just be reasonable—be more like Grant, okay?” This time, I didn’t explain. I didn’t fight back. I simply followed her home, a model of the perfect, compliant little brother. She hated my tantrums, so I never raised my voice again. She accused me of being selfish, so I gave everything I owned to Grant Everett. Savannah thought I was playing a game, a stubborn power struggle to see how long I could keep the act up. But she had no idea. There was no act. I had simply run out of expectation. The day I left home, I went to the ER. That slap—her slap—had ruptured my eardrum, leaving my left ear deaf. It was also the day I unexpectedly found out I had blood cancer. For the rest of the time I had left, I just wanted peace. But I prayed that in my next life, I wouldn’t have a sister.

1 New Year’s Eve. Savannah spent the night out with Grant. On my dime. Before my grandmother died, she’d left me a debit card with $20,000, telling me it was my “starter fund” for the future. A few days ago, Savannah had called me petty and small-minded. So, I’d turned over all my valuables to Grant. Including that card. My phone kept buzzing with transaction alerts. First, they dropped five thousand on a fireworks show. Then, a ridiculously expensive dinner. Finally, a club downtown. At midnight, the last fifty dollars on the card was swiped. Grant posted a highly visible story on Instagram: [Who wouldn’t be jealous of a sister like this?] The picture was his hand, resting suggestively on a model’s slender waist. Savannah had hired him three high-end escorts. Savannah was wealthy—she owned several successful companies. Wiping out my grandmother’s last gift, then letting Grant post that photo? She was doing it on purpose. She believed I was in a months-long sulk, always testing me to see when I’d finally break. Yet my heart was perfectly still, flat as a calm lake. Not a ripple. My stomach felt hollow. I went to the kitchen and cooked myself a bowl of ramen. After I ate, I swallowed my medication. I was about to toss the empty pill bottle when the front door of the mansion swung open. I jumped, startled. My hand slipped, and the bottle clattered to the floor, rolling under the coffee table. Savannah, clearly drunk, paused when she saw me standing there, frozen and exposed. She sneered. “Still awake? Did spending your ten grand keep you up, Elias? Did you lose any sleep over it?” I didn’t answer. She went on, talking mostly to herself: “Three months of pouting. You have incredible stamina.” “Elias Bellweather, let’s see how long you can keep this charade going.” She stumbled. I instinctively moved to help her, but Grant shoved me away. “Can’t you see your sister’s drunk? Stop creating a scene.” He pushed me aside and helped Savannah into her bedroom. I picked up the designer jacket she’d dropped, hung it up, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Just as I was about to bring it to her room, Grant emerged. His eyes were full of venom. “Elias Bellweather, do you ever stop?” “You already ran away—why didn’t you go somewhere Savannah couldn’t find you? Why come back and keep bothering her?”

2 I hadn’t meant to be found. Three months ago, Grant had tearfully told Savannah I was a lost cause—flunking out of school and running with “gutter trash.” He even forged a few compromising photos of me in bed and showed them to her as irrefutable proof. Savannah believed him. No matter how I pleaded, her face was a black storm cloud. She had only one thing to say: “Elias, you’re truly disgusting.” I was beyond defending myself. The outrage made my whole body ache. I lost it, slapping Grant across the face. Savannah immediately returned the favor—for him. Her swing was massive; the blow knocked me to the floor, my ear ringing a loud, sickening buzz. Clutching my face, I stared at her in disbelief. The feeling of betrayal was too much. I bolted out the door. I was going to crash at a cheap motel for a few nights. But the pain in my ear became unbearable, and ached all over. The doctor diagnosed a perforated eardrum in my left ear, then dropped the second bomb: late-stage blood cancer. The doctor frowned. “That ear will never hear again. If someone hit you, you should report it.” He continued, “As for the cancer, I recommend conservative care…” The implication was clear: it was terminal. I walked out of the hospital, still in shock. Everyone rushed past, looking purposeful, most of them with family nearby. I sank down onto the curb, hiding in a corner, and just wept. My phone was dead. I hadn’t charged it since I left. Two days later, Savannah tracked me down. She roared, livid: “Why didn’t you come home? Do you know how long I looked for you?!” “You’re the one who screwed up, and all I did was hit you once. Was that really worth running away over?” She looked haggard, a wreck of anger and exhaustion. She grabbed my wrist, pleading: “Please. Just—just cut me a break, will you?” In that moment, I remembered something my grandmother used to say: “If you die full of hatred, you’ll become a vengeful spirit, and you won’t get a good rebirth.” My grandparents had a lifelong love story. Then, on her deathbed, my grandmother found out my grandfather had two illegitimate children. Yet, she found a way to let go of that resentment. What did I have to hold onto? So I went home with Savannah, and we never spoke about the past again. In those first weeks, the thought of dying would hit me, and I’d cry in secret. A few times, Savannah caught me. She would coldly snap, annoyed: “Crying, crying, crying. I have no idea why you’re constantly tearing up. Can’t you learn to be a man, like Grant?” I tried to mention my diagnosis once. She didn’t take it seriously, instantly dismissing it as a lie. After that, I stopped trying. She complained I was loud, so I never spoke to her first. She called me selfish, so I handed everything over to Grant. When she finally couldn’t find a fault in me, she decided I was just pouting. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was my own peace. Every day ahead was just waiting to die. I was far more excited about the next life. At midnight, I lit fireworks alone in the backyard. I didn’t want to wake Savannah and Grant, so I used the cheap, dollar-store sparklers. The fire sizzled and cracked from end to end. I made a wish: to make it through the new year. I slept in late the next day. When I got up, Savannah was sitting on the sofa. Our eyes met. The sheer rage in hers was barely contained. My heart sank. “What’s wrong?” She opened her palm. Lying there was the pill bottle I’d forgotten to pick up yesterday. I thought she knew. I clenched my fists, a tiny, desperate flicker of hope rising in my chest. Now that she knew about the cancer, would she finally care? Would her attitude soften? The next moment, she spat out the words, cold as ice: “Elias Bellweather, you’re an addict.”

3 I froze, stunned, and for a second, I felt like my right ear had gone deaf too. “An addict? What are you talking about?” Her face was dark. She uncapped the bottle and poured the contents onto the table. White powder. My eyes went wide with shock. My pupils shrunk. “I didn’t believe Grant when he told me, but I see it now. Not only are you messy in your personal life, but you’ve taken up something illegal!” Savannah was incandescent with fury, her voice a shrill, sharp weapon: “No wonder you’ve been acting so strange lately. This is what you’ve been doing!” I was plunged into an ice bath. I scrambled to explain: “This is my cancer medicine! I didn’t put anything in it! I don’t know—” “Still lying!” Savannah cut me off, her eyes like knives. “Just tell me this: Is this your bottle?” “Yes, but—” “There are no ‘buts’!” Her rage was uncontrollable. She crossed the room in three strides, raised her hand, and slapped me hard. Snap. My left ear started ringing again—that familiar, sickening buzz. She was shaking with raw fury. “Elias Bellweather, what is your endgame? Are you trying to destroy me?” “I forgave you for your personal issues, but now you’re breaking the law. Do you want to do a few years in prison just to calm down?” I couldn’t stop the tears this time. They streamed down my face. I clutched my ear, my voice hoarse. “Grant switched my medicine! We can go to the hospital and test me for drugs! I don’t have anything in my system!” “You’re going to be ruined if you go to the hospital!” She jabbed a finger at my forehead, her eyes welling up. “I don’t know why I have a brother like you. Elias, you are such a disappointment!” “From today on, you don’t leave the house. I check everything you eat and drink.” I was utterly defenseless, sweating with panic. I grabbed her arm. “Savannah, I didn’t do anything! I can call the police!” She ripped her arm away and threw my phone to the floor, shattering the screen. Then she picked it up and pocketed it. “Call the police for what? So the whole world knows my brother is a junkie and laughs at me?” She shut off the phone and, without another word, shoved me into the basement. “You’re staying here. You can come out when you’re clean.” The heavy door slammed shut. Bang. Darkness swallowed me whole. I pounded on the door, screaming until my lungs were raw: “Let me out! I’m telling the truth!” Savannah’s voice, muffled through the door, sounded distant. “Don’t lie to me. I know you, Elias. This is for your own good. I am saving you.”

4 I was locked in. The basement was a cold, dim cell, a perfect prison. After an indeterminate amount of time, Grant came down with my meal. The sight of him made me lunge. “Why are you doing this to me? You’ve ruined me once. Wasn’t that enough?” He easily caught my flailing hand, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Who told you to come back, Elias? You left—you should have stayed gone!” “I just want you to know that there’s no place for you here anymore.” My chest heaved. My eyes burned with pure, distilled hatred. I couldn’t speak. He was perfectly composed, radiating calm. “Honestly, that pill bottle was just flour. I told Savannah two sentences and she believed me. Just like last time.” “Admit it, Elias. I’m just more important to your sister than you are.” “I’ve been trying to hold on! Haven’t I been miserable enough for the past three months? What more do you want?” I screamed, my eyes bloodshot. He snatched a handful of my hair, a grotesque smile twisting his lips. “What do I want? I want Savannah to hate you a little more before you die.” “Elias Bellweather, you have blood cancer, right? If you don’t take your meds, it must hurt like hell…” His voice was a soft, cold whisper—the voice of a demon—sending shivers down my spine. “You’re insane, Grant. You are a complete lunatic!” He slowly dropped the smile. Then, without warning, he kicked out, sending me flying into the corner. The pain and the anger. The three months of suppressed emotion finally burst. I scrambled up, not thinking, and launched myself at him. When my palm landed on his face, he didn’t dodge. He took the hits and started screaming. “Savannah! My sister! He’s gone crazy, come here, please!” I barely registered his words. All I knew was that if I didn’t unleash this storm of fury, I would choke and die on the spot. I fought for every second, punching and kicking with every ounce of strength I had left. Harder, harder! Suddenly, the basement door flew open again. Savannah stood in the doorway, her face instantly turning to stone. Grant struggled and yelled: “Savannah! He’s having a fix! He demanded I go buy him more and when I said no, he attacked me!” “I didn’t!” I roared the denial, but I didn’t stop hitting him. He wailed, and in an instant, Savannah grabbed my wrists, her grip iron. “Elias Bellweather, stop the madness!” She pinned my shoulders down, her eyes burning with a mix of fury and worry, a look of utter disappointment. “I’m trying to figure things out for you. Can you please stop causing trouble for me?” My head was a loud, empty whirring. Everything had dissolved into chaos. In my complete breakdown, only one coherent sentence left my lips: “I am not an addict!!” Savannah pressed her lips into a thin line, looking angrier than me. “Of course you’re not going to admit it, Elias. Stop talking nonsense.” “You are going to stay right here. When you’re better, I’ll let you out.” She found a length of heavy rope and quickly, forcefully, tied me to a chair. Then, she pulled Grant with her, walking out of the basement without a glance back. As the door closed, I could still hear her worried voice: “Grant, what about your face? Elias has always been spoiled, please don’t be mad.” “Let’s get you some antiseptic…” I clawed at my palms, my nails digging deep into the flesh. I struggled until the chair toppled over, taking me with it. The ropes were impossibly tight, cutting into my skin, drawing blood. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I thought that by letting go of everything, Savannah would at least be a little kinder. Yet, Grant’s smooth lies were all it took for her to lock me up. Tears splattered the concrete floor. My blood felt like it was turning to ice, growing numb, then a burning ache. I couldn’t even stand up. I lay on the cold ground, a worthless, useless mess. From that day on, I was a prisoner in the basement. Without my pain medication, the agony in my body intensified daily. Grant brought me food, sometimes, throwing in a taunt or two. I would just curl up on the floor, too weak to even acknowledge him. My mind began to slip. I couldn’t tell reality from dreams. Sometimes my soul felt like it was lifting from my body, looking down at the tormented wreck of myself on the floor. I knew my time was almost up. This day, I dreamed of Mom. It was the first time I’d seen her since she died. She held me like she did when I was a child, gently stroking my head. I found my harbor and cried, telling her Savannah had been cruel to me. Mom’s eyes grew red. “How can that be, Elias? Savannah always loved you the most, since you were a baby.” I kept talking, telling her how Savannah favored Grant, how she hit me. Mom was quiet for a long time. Finally, she stroked my cheek, her voice laced with sorrow: “My boy. You have suffered.” Splash. I didn’t hear what Mom said next. A bucket of cold water was dumped over my head, jolting me awake. I opened my eyes. Mom was gone. Standing over me, bucket in hand, was a grim-faced Savannah.

5 It was all a dream. The warmth evaporated, leaving behind the penetrating cold of the water, chilling me to the bone. I looked up at Savannah, not understanding. What had I done this time? I’d just been sleeping. She read the question in my eyes. Her face was dark as thunder. “You were convulsing a minute ago. Was that your craving acting up?” “It’s been a month, Elias. If you don’t get better soon, I’ll have no choice but to send you to rehab!” “I dreamed of Mom.” Her words made the emptiness in my chest grow. The resentment and despair finally hit. I started to choke, overwhelmed. “Savannah, please, call the police.” “I can’t stand being humiliated like this anymore…” She was silent for a moment, then clenched her fists. “You think I don’t want to call the police?” “If I wasn’t trying to save face for you, I would have sent you in a long time ago.” “Elias Bellweather, saving your life back then was the biggest mistake I ever made.” “Knowing this, you should have just died sooner!” I remembered what Mom told me. When I was barely a year old, I got a high fever in the middle of the night. My parents weren’t home, so Savannah carried me to the hospital. It was a cold winter night. She was only five, too young to call a taxi or ask for help. She walked for two hours with me on her back, saving my life. The doctor said I would have died if she’d been any later. Savannah was my lifesaver. Mom also said Savannah had loved me the most, always. I forced a bitter smile. “Savannah, since you saved my life, let me give it back to you.” Her breathing hitched. She turned away in frustration, muttering to herself as much as to me: “Stop with the dramatics.” The basement door closed again. I shut my eyes. I couldn’t endure it. Not one second more. So what if I became a vengeful spirit? It was better than being this inhuman, living ghost. Slowly, I sat up, fixing my eyes on a forgotten fruit knife tucked in the corner. This blood in me hurts too much. It’s time to drain it clean.

6 Grandma was wrong. Dying with resentment doesn’t turn you into a demon. My soul floated out of my body in the basement. I saw my own corpse, crumpled in a pool of blood. I died ugly. My hair was a mess, my face a pale mask. The wound on my wrist was a gruesome slash, flesh torn open, utterly tragic. I could only look for a second before turning away. My soul passed through the wall and left the basement. Outside, Savannah sat on the sofa, tiredly rubbing her temples. Her voice was hoarse as she asked Grant, who sat across from her: “Was I too harsh just now? I didn’t mean it. I just said those things in the heat of the moment…” Grant gave a light laugh, soothing her. “Not at all, Savannah. You’re doing this for Elias. You found out he was addicted—you can’t just coddle him. You have to be tough, or how will he ever get clean?” Listening to Grant, Savannah’s brow furrowed deep in thought. “I don’t know why Elias turned out like this. He was such a good, quiet boy when he was little.” “I should really talk to him properly someday.” I gave a silent, bitter laugh. Someday, Savannah. I won’t be here to talk to you. And the things I didn’t say before? They don’t matter now. A flicker of malice crossed Grant’s eyes. “Savannah, he won’t listen to you. If he would, he wouldn’t have done this.” “In my opinion, you should just stop dealing with him…” “No, I can’t do that. It’s almost the new year. I have to let him out.” Savannah interrupted him without hesitation. “He has to be clean before the holiday. Don’t take him dinner tonight. Let’s see if that teaches him.” I sighed. Savannah was far too late with that idea. Grant hadn’t been feeding me properly since the start. Sometimes it was once every two days, sometimes once every three. He had already been punishing me on her behalf. Of course, Grant wasn’t going to tell Savannah that. He nodded obediently. “Don’t worry, Savannah. I understand.” “Grant, you’re so mature.” Savannah gave him an affectionate look. “It’s almost the New Year. What gift do you want?” “I want you to take me on a trip!” Grant’s eyes sparkled. Then he added: “Just the two of us!” Savannah nodded. “Okay. After the New Year, Elias should be stable. I’ll transfer some company shares to him then, and we’ll go traveling.” They chatted for a while longer, then went to bed. No one checked the basement that night. Or the next day. The closer it got to the holiday, the busier Savannah became, leaving Grant in charge of me. Grant couldn’t be bothered. With Savannah gone, he was out with his friends, only stumbling home in the dead of night. Finally, on Christmas Eve, Savannah finished her work and came home. She hesitated for a long time before stopping at the basement door. “Elias Bellweather. It’s been days. You’re not going to go crazy again, right?” “It’s Christmas Eve. If you promise you’re okay, I’ll let you out.” The basement was silent. No reply came for a long time. She frowned. “Are you still mad? What I said the other day was just anger talking. I didn’t mean it.” Still silence. Her face hardened. She turned to leave. But she stopped after two steps, thinking of something. She turned back suddenly and awkwardly pushed the heavy basement door open.