Brother, I Wish I’d Never Been Born

1 I had one month left to live when my brother threw me out of the house. I found an old video camera, wanting to record one last message for myself. “Holly, in your next life, don’t be born into this family again. It’s not a role you can bear.” But the moment I turned it on, it started playing a video automatically. My brother was smiling, holding the camera. “I swear,” his younger voice said, “I promised Mom I would protect my sister with my life. I’ll never let anyone hurt her.” I froze, a tear tracing a path down my cheek. “But… I don’t want to be your sister anymore,” I whispered. To my shock, the boy in the video suddenly stared straight at me, his expression defiant. “Who are you? What gives you the right to say that?” … I stood stunned, watching as the little figure on the screen looked around the room in the video. “Who’s talking? Is that my sister?” In the video, my mother gently touched my brother’s head, her face full of loving confusion. “Owen, honey, it’s just us in the living room. You must have misheard.” Seeing the warm, kind woman on the screen, my tears began to flow freely. My mother died in childbirth when I was born. I had never met her. And my brother, Owen, had become the person who hated me most in the world. Young Owen looked bewildered, waving his hand dismissively. “I guess I heard wrong. I thought I heard… I thought I heard my sister say she didn’t want to be my sister.” His expression was a mixture of hurt and confusion, and he looked down at his mother’s pregnant belly, his eyes welling up. “How could that be possible?” she soothed. “Owen is the best big brother in the world. Your sister will be so excited to meet you.” Watching this scene, a bitter smile touched my lips. Owen really was the best brother in the world. But he wasn’t my brother anymore. In the camera’s memory, young Owen nodded, his face breaking into a grin. “I can’t wait to meet her, either. I bet she’ll be really cute.” A tightness gripped my chest. I turned the camera off, the idea of recording anything forgotten. Staring into the darkness of my tiny rental room, I took a deep breath and forced myself to my feet to open the curtains. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my torso, as if my organs were being twisted into knots. When I finally pulled the curtains back, the first rays of morning light streamed in, illuminating my reflection in the glass. I had wasted away to just seventy-four pounds. My body was little more than a skeleton, my cheekbones jutting out sharply over a gaunt face. Only my eyes seemed alive, large and dark in their hollowed sockets. Even I was frightened by my own appearance. I quickly grabbed a hat and a mask, pulling them on. My body felt lost inside my baggy clothes, almost swaying with the motion. Holly, your life is anything but holy. I laughed at the cruel irony and picked up my phone. The screen saver was a photo of Owen and me. And another girl… the sister whose hand he was holding. I was standing off to the side, clutching a ragged doll, too afraid to step closer. It was the only picture I had with him. The other girl in the photo, Ivy, was the one who was truly his sister. She was beautiful and sweet, everything he imagined a sister should be, and he gave her the world. I was four years old the day Ivy was brought home. I was crouching in a corner, playing with the ragged doll Owen had tossed to me once, and I stood up when he walked in, holding Ivy’s hand. “You’re scaring Ivy,” he said, shielding her behind him before turning his cold eyes on me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Ivy peeked out from behind him, her wide eyes fixed on me. “Brother, is she your sister, too?” “No. I only have one sister, and that’s you.” Owen smiled, ruffling Ivy’s hair. My own eyes went wide. I asked him, “Then, brother… what am I?” If Ivy is your only sister, then what am I? “You’re just someone living in our house,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “When Ivy turns eighteen, we’ll send you away.” Then he turned and left with Ivy, without giving me so much as a second glance.

2 My phone buzzed, shattering the silence. The caller ID read: Owen. My hand tightened around the phone. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “Hello?” I heard a cold chuckle on the other end. “Did you call me just to laugh at me?” I asked, my voice tight. “Just checking to see if you’re dead yet,” Owen said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. It was a universe away from the bright-eyed boy in the video who had sworn to protect his sister forever. There was no trace of him left. “Sorry to disappoint you. But it won’t be long now,” I replied, my own voice just as flat, without a hint of inflection. He didn’t know. I really was dying. “Ha.” I heard him laugh again. “Then I’ll be waiting with bated breath. I’m curious to see how you’ll apologize to Mom when you get to the other side.” My grip on the phone tightened. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.” The sunlight felt warm on my skin, the only source of warmth in the freezing room. Last night, the pain had been so intense it felt like my body was being ripped apart, and I hadn’t slept at all. The air was so cold I could see my own breath. All I wanted was to sleep. Preferably, a sleep I would never wake up from. “Ivy’s eighteenth birthday party is tomorrow. She wants you to be there. If you promise not to cause any trouble, you can stay until after the party. You brought this on yourself.” “I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow. You have to be there.” With that, he hung up. I listened to the dial tone drone on. I tossed the phone aside. He was right. I could have stayed until after Ivy’s party. But Ivy couldn’t wait. Yesterday, I had found her scratching our mother’s photograph. That was my mother. The only mother I had, the one I could only speak to through that faded picture. Though I was weak and gaunt, I used every last bit of my strength to slap Ivy across the face. In return, my brother threw me out, along with my ragged doll. His strength was terrifying. I hit the ground so hard I felt like my bones were going to shatter, the splinters threatening to pierce my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what hurt more: the fall or the disease ravaging my insides. “Holly, you’re asking for it,” Owen had snarled. “Get out. And don’t let my sister see your face again.” Owen, didn’t you tell me to get lost? I turned on the camera again. Inside, young Owen was folding paper cranes. The clock on his desk showed it was three in the morning, but he just rubbed his eyes and kept going. “My sister will be born soon,” he muttered to himself with a smile. “I have to hurry and make a thousand of these. Then she’ll be safe and happy her whole life.” I stared at the screen, and as if speaking to him, or maybe to myself, I said, “Stop folding.” Your sister won’t be safe and happy. She’s going to die before she even turns eighteen. Young Owen looked up again, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “You again. Who are you? Why do you keep trying to ruin things between me and my sister?” I paused, listening as his indignant voice filled the silence. “This morning you said she didn’t want to be my sister, and now you’re telling me not to pray for her well-being. Who are you?”

3 “I’m from eighteen years in the future,” I told the boy on the screen. His eyes lit up. He sat up straight, facing the camera—facing me. “Eighteen years! Then my sister has been born by now! Is she doing okay? Are we close? I bet I spoil her like a princess! After all, I’m the best brother in the world.” He puffed out his chest with absolute confidence. “She’s not doing well at all,” I said flatly. My whole body ached. The bruises from being thrown out were turning a deep, ugly purple. Even my organs hurt. And it was all thanks to the very same brother who had once sworn to protect me. Owen faltered. “Am I dead? Did I fail to take care of her? Oh, no… you’re lying, aren’t you!” “You’re alive and well. And you will be for a long time. Just… don’t let your sister be born. She’ll only suffer.” I said it quickly and shut the camera off, but not before I heard his desperate shout. “Who are you? Why should I believe you? How could I possibly let my sister be unhappy? You must be lying to me!” Five-year-old Owen would never believe he could be cruel to his sister. Even I wouldn’t have believed it. My brother once promised to protect me. How laughable. The next day, I went to a pharmacy. I emptied a pocketful of crumpled bills and loose change onto the counter to buy some painkillers. “Miss, this isn’t enough,” the pharmacist said with a frown. “Go on, now. Don’t cause trouble.” “Please, sir,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Can I just have a few pills? This is all the money I have. Just a few will do.” I was so desperate I was close to getting on my knees. The pain was unbearable, like a thousand knives stabbing me from the inside out, making every breath an agony. “I can’t just break open a bottle for you. There’s nothing I can do, miss. Please leave, you’re bothering my customers. It’s bad enough having someone like you as my first sale of the day. You’re a jinx.” He waved his hand at me dismissively, his face a mask of disgust. “Go on, get out of here.” “Give her a bottle. Keep the change.” A hand with long, elegant fingers placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. My first instinct was to run. “Don’t you want your medicine?” Owen’s cool voice came from behind me. He dangled the bottle of painkillers in his hand. “After all, I’m the one who threw you on the ground. I suppose I should take some responsibility.” “If that’s the case, you have a lifetime of things to take responsibility for,” I said, looking at him. Only my eyes were visible, the rest of my face and body hidden. I didn’t want him to see me like this, looking like I was at death’s door. Owen smirked. “Still got that sharp tongue. Today is Ivy’s birthday. The driver went to pick you up, but you weren’t there. I never expected to run into you while I was out arranging her custom cake and party dress.” “Can’t even scrape together a hundred dollars. Holly, you really are pathetic.” “Thrown out by my own brother, replaced by an adopted sister, bullied for years until my reputation is in tatters… I was already pathetic enough.” Words like that didn’t even faze me anymore. I spoke of my short, tragic life as casually as if I were commenting on the weather. A shadow crossed Owen’s face. “You failed our mother. You deserve everything you get.” I didn’t answer. I twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers and poured a handful into my mouth, chewing them like candy. Owen stared, a look of disgust on his face. “Anyone watching would think you were about to die from the pain.” “You guessed right,” I said, a miserable smile hidden behind my mask. He grabbed my arm to pull me towards his car. “You’re coming to the party. Ivy said she wants you there, which means I have to bring you.” The moment his fingers closed around my wrist, he flinched. “Are you starving yourself to death?” “Losing weight.” “You’d be ugly either way,” he sneered, before shoving me into the car. The car sped away.