I Gave My Brother Twenty Years of My Life, But My Parents Still Didn’t Love Me

1: 1

I have a system that lets me transfer my own lifespan to my twin brother.

Once Mom and Dad found out, I became his spare life.

When he got sick, I gave him three days.

When he got nervous before a test, I gave him a week.

On his birthday, they wanted me to hand over a little more, for good luck.

I gripped the hem of Mom's shirt, my voice shaking.

"Mom, can we skip it just once? I'll really die."

She set down her chopsticks and frowned at me.

"Don't make it sound so terrible. You'll just do a few tasks and get it all back, won't you?"

"Bertie's frail. You're his sister. You can't be this selfish."

Dad simply grabbed my hand and pressed it to my brother's forehead, forcing the transfer through.

"Stop wasting time. Everyone's waiting to celebrate his birthday."

The instant the transfer finished, the system's voice went off in my head.

Warning! Host's remaining lifespan is approaching the critical threshold.

I slid slowly down the door until I was sitting on the floor.

They didn't know that the only task that could extend my life was to be loved by them, truly, just once.

But ten years had passed, and the progress bar was still at zero.

They started singing happy birthday, laughter ringing out loud enough to hurt.

I closed my eyes and spoke, quietly, inside my own head.

"When the countdown ends, just erase me. I'm done waiting."

I'd barely gotten back to my room when Egbert Henson's voice came through the door.

"Odie, aren't you coming to have cake?"

"Leave her be. She's throwing another fit."

Mom's voice rose over his from the living room.

"Cut the cake, cut the cake. Did you make a wish?"

"I did, I did!"

Egbert laughed, and the sound scraped at me.

The little rush of air from the blown-out candles slipped through the gap under the door. I sat on the floor, my back against the wall, and looked down at my hands.

Transparent.

Through my fingertips I could see the grain of the floor tiles.

The system panel hung in front of my eyes. The countdown had already hit zero, and the red frame was flashing, on and on.

Lifespan at zero. Separation of host consciousness complete.

Soul retention time: unknown.

I stood up slowly.

My body was very light. It was strange, really strange, to have no heartbeat, my chest hollow inside.

I walked into the living room.

Egbert was spearing a piece of strawberry cream on his fork and shoving it into his mouth, cheeks puffed out.

Dad was holding up his phone, recording. Mom was leaning sideways against the armrest of the couch, smiling as she watched him.

Eighteen candles stood in the cake on the table.

Eighteen.

Our eighteenth birthday.

Except the cake had only one name written on it: Happy Birthday, Egbert.

"Dad, get a shot of me."

Egbert flashed a peace sign at the camera.

"You got it. Handsome, huh? My son's the handsomest."

Dad leaned in, laughing.

Mom picked up the cake and held it to Egbert's mouth.

"Have another bite. You've lost so much weight, it just breaks my heart."

I walked over to Mom and reached out to touch her shoulder.

My hand went straight through.

I'd known it would be like this.

But the moment my fingers passed through her body, it still hurt.

Not a physical hurt.

The hurt of standing right in front of someone who will never see you.

The truth was, I'd gotten used to it long ago.

Even while I was alive, she'd hardly ever seen me.

The winter I was seven, I curled up in bed with my hand pressed over the left side of my chest.

"Mom, my heart hurts so much."

There was a time when one cry of pain from me and she'd hold me all night.

But that day, she didn't even turn her head.

"You've got a system protecting you. You won't die."

She wrapped Egbert up in her arms, her voice full of irritation.

"Bertie doesn't have a system. He's the one to pity. I have to see to him first."

She scooped Egbert up and rushed off to the hospital.

I ran a fever alone until the middle of the night, huddled under the blankets, waiting until dawn, and she never came back.

That was the first time I understood why my task had always stayed at zero.

She didn't understand that the system kept me alive, but my illness was still there.

I hurt too. I suffered too. I wanted to be cared about too.

"All right, all right, I can't eat any more."

Egbert pushed Mom's hand away and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach.

"Then rest a bit. We'll head to Six Flags in a while. Dad booked you the VIP line."

"Really?"

Egbert shot upright.

"A promise is a promise. You only turn eighteen once. Big day. Has to be a good one."

Dad ruffled Egbert's hair.

Then Mom seemed to remember something and jerked her chin toward my room.

"Go tell your sister. See if she's done sulking."

The corner of Egbert's mouth twisted.

"Not going! She always pulls that face. Makes me feel like I owe her something just for having a birthday."

Mom sighed.

"Fine, we won't call her. That temper of hersonce she digs in, nobody can talk her out of it."

"We'll deal with it when we get back. Don't hold up Bertie's day."

Dad was already changing his shoes at the entryway.

The three of them grabbed their coats and went out the door, chatting and laughing.

The key turned. The bolt dropped.

The apartment went abruptly silent.

I turned to look at the door at the end of the hallway, left ajar.

Through the gap, I could just make out my own feet.

In those canvas shoes washed pale from wear, resting quietly on the floor, not moving at all.

And they hadn't even pushed that door open.

2: 2

The amusement park entrance.

I trailed behind them, through the turnstiles, through the crowd.

No one bumped into me.

The wind passed through my body too, without so much as lifting a hem of cloth.

"Mom! Look! The roller coaster!"

Egbert pointed at the cars flipping along the steel rails in the distance, his eyes bright.

Mom frowned right away.

"But your heart..."

"It's fine, it's fine. Odie turned over a whole week to me last time, remember? I feel great."

Egbert patted his chest.

"Not the least bit tight."

Dad laughed and cut in.

"Go on, go on. We don't get out much. Your sister gave you her years so you could enjoy yourself."

Dad said it so easily, like he was stating a plain and obvious fact.

My life, it seemed, had been born just so he could enjoy it.

Mom sat down on the bench in the waiting area and pulled out her phone to text me.

Saved you a slice of cake. Eat it if you get hungry.

"That girl."

She curled her lip at Dad.

"Ask her to turn over a little of her years and she sulks about it, spoils the mood for the whole family. Is one care task really that hard to do?"

Dad sat down beside her and took the bottle of water she handed him.

"She's just being dramatic. It's something she can earn straight back by finishing a task, and she insists on dragging it out."

"If you ask me, she doesn't want to save her brother at all."

"How could that be? Bertie is her own brother, after all."

Mom locked her phone screen.

"She just throws out a few harsh words so we'll pay her a little more attention."

Yes. All I really wanted was for you to look at me a little more.

The recovery task the system gave me was only one, and in ten years it had never changed.

Task: Receive one act of genuine care from a closest family member.

That winter, I burned up to a hundred and two, shaking all over.

For once, Mom brought in a bowl of hot porridge and sat on the edge of the bed, coaxing me.

"Be good, Odie. Eat a little something. Mom's right here with you."

I nodded, happy, watching the task progress, and still a small hope stirred in me.

Then she walked out of the room, and I heard Dad ask in a low voice outside the door.

"Will it recover? Bertie ran a couple extra laps in gym class today..."

Mom sighed.

"Let her eat her fill first, so she doesn't get upset."

The scream of the roller coaster overhead tore across the sky and pulled me back.

A little while later Egbert came running out of the exit, his face flushed red.

"That was amazing! Mom, I want to ride it again!"

"Sure. Ride it as many times as you want."

Mom stood up smiling and reached over to smooth the hair the wind had tousled.

Her fingers ran through the loose strands at Egbert's forehead.

Her palm rested against his forehead for half a second.

That gesture, I had waited ten years for.

"Dad, look, there's a drop tower over there too!"

"Let's go. We'll ride everything today!"

The three of them walked ahead laughing, shoulder to shoulder.

A complete family of three.

I stood where I was and watched their backs move farther and farther away, blurring into the crowd.

It had never been a family of four.

I had gotten the system, but lost my family.

At six in the evening the neon lights came on, and the whole park was washed in colored light.

The three of them sat at a snack stand, Egbert with a hot dog stuffed in his mouth, Mom wiping the sauce from the corner of his lips.

Dad suddenly remembered something and glanced at his phone.

"When we get back I'm going to have words with her. A whole day and not one message home. What kind of attitude is that?"

Mom picked it up.

"When we're home, make her turn over enough for the week. She came up a day short last time."

Egbert chewed the hot dog, his words muffled.

"It's not like she loses anything anyway. She does a task and gets it right back."

"Bertie, you can't talk about your sister that way."

Mom put away the napkins and, out of habit, wrapped up a hot dog that had gone cold.

"Come on. Your sister should be home waiting."

But they didn't know. What waited for them back home was no longer someone they could still put in her place.

Egbert stopped short and dropped to the ground.

He pressed a hand to his chest, the color draining from his face to a gray-white in an instant.

"Mom... my heart. It hurts so much."

3: 3

Mom lunged over and grabbed Egbert's shoulders, every drop of color draining from her face in a single second.

"Bertie! Bertie, what's wrong?"

Egbert was already doubled over, fine beads of sweat breaking across his forehead, his lips turning purple.

"It hurts"

He pressed a hand hard against his chest, his voice thin and crushed down small.

"It's not like before this time it really hurts"

Mom kept one hand pressed to his chest and screamed at Dad.

"Call 911! Call 911!"

Dad dropped his phone, snatched it up again, and dialed for the ambulance with shaking hands.

"Seven minutes! He can't wait that long! Can't you get here faster?"

Mom sank to her knees and pulled him into her arms, her palm cupped over his chest, one sentence turning over and over in her mouth.

"It's okay, it's okay, Mommy's here, Mommy's right here."

Dad paced back and forth beside them, not knowing what to do with his hands, clenching them into fists and letting go, letting go and clenching again.

I stood three steps away, watching them go out of their minds.

The first time my heart stopped, they knelt in the hallway just like this, banging their foreheads on the floor.

Back then, I believed they loved me.

That simple task had felt like something handed to me for free.

So when my brother's illness flared, I transferred my lifespan to him without a second of hesitation.

I thought my parents would praise me. Love me even more.

But the first time, the second time, the two hundredth time

There would be no two hundred and first chance.

The ambulance carried Egbert screaming to the nearest hospital and wheeled him straight into the ER.

Mom was stopped at the door, both hands locked around the stainless steel handle, knuckles white.

"Doctor! My son has a congenital heart condition! He's been in treatment this whole time! He shouldn't suddenly"

The ER nurse held her back.

"Family members, please cooperate. You can't go in right now."

"But my son"

"He's being resuscitated. Please wait outside."

The door closed.

Mom's whole body gave out. She slid slowly down the wall and sat on the floor of the corridor.

That pose was exactly the way I had sat down against my bedroom door before I died.

Dad stood beside her, his voice trembling.

"Bertie he'll be fine he's going to be fine."

"He's got the lifespan Odette just transferred in him. There's no way anything can happen to him."

Mom's head snapped up, seizing on the words like hope.

"Right right, there's still lifespan, he won't die the system won't let him die"

That's right. Of course my brother would be fine. He still had at least twenty years of lifespan.

That was my whole life.

The light over the resuscitation room stayed on for a full forty minutes.

The door opened. The attending physician came out and pulled down his mask.

"He's stabilized for now. But the patient's heart condition is more complicated than we expected. He'll need close monitoring."

Mom stumbled inside, threw herself against the bed, and gripped Egbert's hand.

His face was waxy and yellow, an oxygen tube clipped at his nostrils, his chest rising and falling faintly.

"Mom"

His eyes were half open, his voice terribly weak.

"Mommy's here, Mommy's right here."

Egbert's lips moved.

"Am I going to die"

"No."

Mom pressed his hand to her face, tears striking the sheets.

"You won't die. Mommy won't let you die."

She turned to look at Dad, her eyes rimmed red.

"Call Odette."

"Tell her to transfer lifespan. Right now."

Dad pulled out his phone at once, his fingers shaking as he dialed my number.

One ring, two rings, three rings.

No answer.

"Try again!"

Four rings, five rings, six rings.

"The number you have dialed is not answering"

The tears were still on Mom's face, but her expression shifted from panic to fury.

"What is she playing at? Her brother's fighting for his life and she won't pick up?"

Dad gritted his teeth and dialed again.

Still the cold, mechanical woman's voice.

"That wretched girl!"

Mom let go of Egbert's hand and shot to her feet.

"Is she doing this on purpose? Is she still sulking?"

Dad was already heading for the door.

"I'll go back and get her."

Mom called after him.

"Bring her here! Drag her if you have to!"

4: 4

Dad drove so fast he ran two red lights.

I sat in the passenger seat, watching the veins stand out on the hand that gripped the wheel.

His phone was jammed between his ear and his shoulder, redialing my number without stopping.

The seventh time. The eighth.

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailab"

"Pick up! Odette, pick up the damn phone!"

He finished yelling into the receiver and slammed the phone down on the armrest.

From the hospital to home, a fifteen-minute drive, he made it in eight.

The car had barely stopped before he shot out of the driver's seat and jogged into the building.

Key into the lock, twist, door open.

The living room was a mess, the cake still on the table, the cream melted into a puddle.

"Odette!"

No one answered.

"Odette, get out here! Your brother's in the hospital fighting for his life and you're in there throwing a tantrum?"

Dad strode toward my room and shoved at the door.

It wouldn't move.

Something was blocking it from the inside.

"Odette, open this door!"

He slapped the door, hard enough to rattle the panel.

"Odette! Your brother's lying in the ER and you've got the nerve to hide in here in peace! How can you be so heartless?"

Dead silence behind the gap in the door.

He hit the door harder and harder, until flakes of paint shook loose from the wall.

"Playing deaf and dumb, are you? You'd let your own brother die. How did I raise something this cold-blooded?"

He swore, stepped back half a pace, and rammed his shoulder into the door.

Two blows, and the lock cylinder cracked.

The door sprang open a crack, then caught on something heavy on the floor, dragging with a dull scrape.

"Still playing this game? Open the door!"

I lay slumped behind the door, the front of my uniform smeared with dust.

My phone was pinned by my leg, screen lit, nothing but his missed calls.

Dad jabbed a furious finger at me through the gap.

"Don't you pull this with me. Get up right now and go to the hospital!"

I didn't move. Not even a flicker of my eyelids.

"Still playing deaf on me, huh!"

With a huge crash, he kicked the door open without an ounce of mercy.

My body was forced half a meter along with it, and my right arm gave a sickening crack as it snapped clean.

But from start to finish, I didn't make so much as a sound of pain.

He strode over, grabbed my shoulder, and yanked hard to pull me up.

The moment his hand touched me, he froze.

His eyes locked on that twisted arm.

His breath cut off.

"No... it can't be..."