Never Again, Not Even as Siblings

It had been three years since my rich older brother, Dylan Mitchell, blocked my number. Then he dropped a single dollar into my crowdfunding campaign. His comment was dripping with pure venom: [If you actually drop dead, let me know so I can throw a party.] Three years ago, the girl he’d been financially sponsoring accused me of stealing her spot at a top university. Dylan flew into a rage and pulled me out of school entirely. "I can support you for the rest of your life even without a diploma," he yelled, "But you steal someone else’s future? You need to learn a damn lesson!" We had a screaming match, but it ended with him shoving me out the front door, his face cold as ice. "Don't come back until you learn how to be a decent human being. Let's see how long that terrible attitude of yours lasts!" Ever since that day, he’d treated the girl he’d been sponsoring, Summer Prescott, like a princess, spoiling her rotten. Meanwhile, I survived by collecting scrap metal and digging through trash cans. Two years after leaving home, I was diagnosed with terminal stage IV lung cancer. I stared at his comment for a long, agonizing moment. Then I dialed the phone number for the local cemetery. "Save the cheapest plot for me," I whispered into the receiver, "I'll transfer the deposit tomorrow." My brother's one-dollar donation was just enough to hit the minimum balance requirement to cash out my campaign funds. I was finally going to give him the exact life he wished for me. Chapter 1 "You've really got to hurry, young lady. Cemetery plots are in high demand right now." The cemetery owner Terry Cole sighed, making it clear that talk was cheap and he wouldn't hold anything without cash in hand. I couldn't blame him. I had been out to look at the cemetery several times over the past year, but I hadn't booked a single plot because they were all way out of my budget. Whatever money I had left was barely scraping by for medication and treatment, forcing me to check back every now and then just hoping to score a cheaper spot. Every single time Mr. Cole asked me which one I wanted, I would just stammer awkwardly, "Never mind, I'll bring my family to look at it next time." This time, my voice was completely steady. "Don't worry, I'm actually buying it this time." After hanging up, my phone screen went back to the crowdfunding page. Amid a sea of well-wishes for a speedy recovery, my brother Dylan Mitchell’s message stood out like a sore thumb: [If you actually drop dead, let me know so I can throw a party.] I read it over and over again, still struggling to believe those words came from my own flesh and blood. Still, thanks to his single-dollar donation, my wallet balance hit an even ten thousand, finally clearing the minimum limit to cash out. I chewed my dry lip and reached out to hit the withdrawal request. Right then, a brand-new donation notification popped up on my screen. It was from Summer Prescott, the girl my brother had been sponsoring. She had donated a single penny, paired with a message: [Eleanor, just come back home. If you sincerely apologize, Dylan will forgive you. Please don't pull stunts like faking things ever again.] My fingers instantly locked around my phone in a death grip. However, after a long moment of thought, I typed nothing, swallowed my anger, and hit the cash-out button. My rescue cat, Lucky, sensed that something was wrong and started rubbing against my ankles. I crouched down to pet its head, dumping the last of our dwindling cat food into its bowl. It let out an affectionate little meow, then scurried over on its three good legs to dig in. Lucky was a stray with a missing leg. As it ate, it kept glancing back to check on me. Meeting its eager, pleading eyes made my throat tight, dragging me straight back to the night Dylan threw me out. His voice had been laced with utter disgust, cold enough to cut glass. "If you won't admit you're wrong, get the hell out! I'm done with you!" Chapter 2 Three years ago, Summer had handed her university admission slot over to me, only to immediately turn around and run to Dylan with a lie that I had bribed the teacher to steal it from her. She had used her own future as a chip, betting that Dylan would fly off the handle. The only teacher who could back up my story had retired and traveled abroad, completely unreachable. Summer’s timing was absolute perfection, and her gamble paid off. Dylan had blown a gasket, refusing to listen to a single word of my explanation, and immediately pulled me out of school. I had broken down sobbing, screaming at the top of my lungs during a massive fight, only to be rewarded with a brutal slap across the face. "Eleanor," he had roared, "Since you were little, when have I ever denied you anything? Did you really have to stoop to stealing? "Summer came from some backwater! Do you have any idea how much this spot means to her?" He ordered me to apologize to Summer. Naturally, I refused, sticking my chin out and swearing I had done nothing wrong. That was how I ended up thrown out onto the street. I sat outside for hours, crying my eyes out, waiting for Dylan to come around. I kept telling myself he was just blowing off steam and would tell me to come back inside any minute. Instead, morning rolled around, and he still hadn't come looking for me. Just as I had cried every tear in my body and turned away in absolute despair, I watched a man storm out carrying a cat. "Meow—" The three-legged cat was slammed mercilessly against the ground, letting out a horrific, piercing screech. The man wore an expression of sheer disgust, looking at the animal with the exact same cold contempt my brother had used on me. "Never seen such a stupid cat. Climbing a tree and breaking its own damn leg. "Get the hell out! I'm done with you!" My pupils dilated as his voice completely merged with Dylan’s in my head. Once my brain caught up, I scrambled forward to cradle the half-dead little cat in my arms, only to realize its leg hadn't been broken from a fall at all. Someone had snapped it on purpose. I wanted to march right up and chew that guy out, but he had already slammed his front door shut. Right then, something clicked in my mind. This cat and I were the exact same. It didn't matter if we actually did anything wrong. When people wanted to throw you away, they just did. They didn’t need a real reason. That was how I ended up taking in that stray and naming it Lucky. For the past three years, Dylan had sabotaged me at every turn, both openly and behind the scenes. Every single time I managed to land a job, he made sure it fell through. By the end, my only option left was scavenging through trash. Lucky and I had suffered through a relentless downward spiral of our standard of living right alongside each other. The apartments got smaller, and the cat food got cheaper. I stroked its fur now, having just uploaded an adoption post online. I had already decided to spend the crowdfunding money on my cemetery plot. As for my illness, there was no cure for it anyway, so I might as well just kick the bucket and give my brother exactly what he wanted. However, Lucky needed a good home. It deserved to live a long, happy life in my place. Little did I know, barely two hours later, my phone would ring with a call from customer service at the crowdfunding platform. "Is this Eleanor Mitchell? The fundraising campaign you submitted has been flagged for suspected fraud, and your withdrawal has been blocked. "The report was filed by your brother, Dylan Mitchell." Chapter 3 "Boom!" My head felt like it had been blown wide open by a firework, leaving behind a terrifying, hollow blankness. "Who did you say?" I choked out, "Dylan?" "Yes. He provided proof of your relationship and filed a dispute claiming your medical records are fraudulent. "The platform is currently reviewing the case, which means your previously raised funds are temporarily frozen and cannot be withdrawn." In disbelief, I felt like I was plunging headfirst into a frozen abyss. "My medical records were issued by a major top-tier hospital! There’s no way they're fake! "He has a grudge against me. He literally wants me dead—" "Please try to calm down, Miss Mitchell." The customer service agent cut me off, repeating in a flat tone, "We’re currently verifying everything. Rest assured, once it's confirmed legitimate, the funds will be transferred to your account immediately." My whole body was shaking like a leaf, but I knew arguing with a phone agent was useless. So, I hung up and dialed Dylan’s number directly. I didn't know when he had unblocked me, but the call actually went through. The second the line connected, I roared into the phone. "Dylan! Why the hell did you tell the crowdfunding platform that my case is fake?! Do you have any idea—" "Aren't you faking it?" Dylan interrupted me with a casual, lazy tone, a trace of amusement actually bleeding into his voice. "Eleanor, I know you're too stubborn to admit you were wrong or swallow your pride to come home, so you thought of this little stunt to force me to cave first. "How about this? Just come home and apologize, and I'll pretend none of this ever happened." Listening to his words, my heart dropped straight down into hell with a hollow thud. So, in his eyes, that was all I was? A manipulative liar? My fingers clamped around my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, and for a second, I completely forgot how to speak. Then Summer's voice drifted through the speaker. "Dylan, is that a call from Eleanor? Please just let her come home. Honestly, I stopped holding a grudge against her for what happened three years ago." Dylan’s voice turned stern and protective. "I know you're mature and sweet about this, Summer, but Eleanor needs to learn a lesson. "She's my sister, and I refuse to let her get away with these toxic, rotten habits!" Even though he was talking to Summer, I knew every single word was meant for me to hear. I let out a bitter, cutting laugh and spoke right over him, "Dylan, I didn't do anything wrong three years ago. She set me up. "And I sure as hell didn't fake anything today. Every single medical report came straight from a top-tier hospital. "I will never, ever apologize. Even if I have to drop dead, I'll never admit to something I didn't do!" "You—" Before Dylan could finish, I hung up the phone. When he called back, I sent it straight to voicemail. The overwhelming spike of rage and panic sent my chest heaving, and a sharp, spasming pain tore straight through my lungs. A moment later, another text popped up from Dylan: [Eleanor, I’m beyond disappointed in you!] Chapter 4 That night, I didn't sleep a wink. My lungs felt like they were being pierced by a million needles, sending a sharp, agonizing stab of pain through every single breath I took. My preion painkillers had run out ages ago, so I just curled up hugging Lucky and white-knuckled my way through the entire night. The second dawn finally broke, my phone rang with another call from the crowdfunding platform. "Miss Mitchell, our platform requires you to undergo a complete set of re-examinations and submit a brand-new inspection report with a current date." I asked in a listless, exhausted voice, "And what if I don't?" "For disputed fundraising cases like this, if you refuse to cooperate, all raised funds will be automatically refunded to the donors." "Then refund them. Thanks for your time." I flatly murmured those words and hung up the phone right then and there. I didn't have a single cent left to pay for medical checks anyway, so if those ten thousand dollars were out of reach, I was done fighting for it. Lucky nudged its head against my chest, and I forced a weak, fragile smile. "Are you hungry? Let me go out and collect some bottles so I can earn enough for your cat food, okay?" It had no clue what I was talking about, but it just purred softly and tilted its head. I quickly washed up, grabbed a large burlap sack, and headed out the door. To save on rent, I lived pretty far out in a working-class neighborhood where a bunch of elderly folks constantly competed with me for cardboard boxes and plastic bottles. So, I had no choice but to head toward the massive upscale shopping malls downtown. Rich people were everywhere over there, meaning the beverage bottles they tossed out were worth a lot more, and they were usually easier to talk to. As long as I asked politely with a nice attitude if I could help them throw away their trash, they would happily hand over their empty bottles. Two hours later, my sack was halfway full. Just as I was about to head over to another mall, a shocked voice rang out from directly behind me. "Eleanor? What on earth are you doing here?!" I spun around to see Dylan staring at me with a look of sheer disbelief. Right beside him, Summer was carrying five or six luxury shopping bags, making it painfully obvious the two of them had just finished a shopping spree. I scowled, turning on my heel to walk away. Before I could take a step, Dylan crossed the distance in three long strides and clamped a heavy hand around my wrist. "Why are you out here collecting trash?!" His expression darkened with fury as he raked his eyes over me. His gaze finally locked onto my faded, washed-out jeans, a flash of complicated emotion flickering across his eyes. Summer stepped in close, her tone dripping with sweet mockery. "Eleanor, you're really working overtime to play the victim, aren't you? How did you even end up picking up garbage? "Did you somehow find out we were coming here to shop today, and plan this whole pathetic stunt on purpose?" Dylan's expression grew darker by the second as he yanked me along behind him. "You're coming back with me right now!" I fought back with everything I had, thrashing against his grip. "Let go of me!" He dragged me off into a quiet corner, shoved my arm away, and launched straight into a furious tirade. "Look at yourself right now! Have you lost your damn mind? All I asked you to do was apologize, and you just had to—" "Then what the hell do you want me to do?" I raised my eyes, my face completely deadpan. "Every single job I managed to land got sabotaged because of you. If I don't pick up trash, how am I supposed to survive?" Dylan crossed his arms and barked coldly, "Why couldn't you just come home? You knew damn well that the second you apologized, I’d have forgiven you. Is it really that hard?" I let out a bitter, cutting laugh right in his face. "You're just embarrassed of me, aren't you?" He opened his mouth to snap back, but Summer jumped right in. "Eleanor... Um, you kind of reek right now. Can't you smell yourself? "You really need to pay attention to basic hygiene. You're still part of the family, after all. You have to care about Dylan’s reputation a little." I shot her a sharp look, locking eyes with her triumphant, gloating stare, and a fresh wave of needle-like stabs tore through my lungs. "She's the one who's part of the family now. I'm not." Dropping those words, I turned around and walked away. Dylan's voice rumbled with suppressed fury behind me. "Eleanor, you're really refusing to admit you're wrong? Don't come crying to me when you regret this!" I pretended I hadn't heard a thing and picked up my pace. That whole day, every single bottle and cardboard box I had scavenged couldn't be sold anywhere. The scrap yard owner gave me a heavy, apologetic sigh. "Some big shot named Dylan gave strict orders. Nobody across the entire city is allowed to buy your recyclables. "Don't blame me, kid. We've got to make a living in this city too, and that big shot has too much power and money. We can't afford to cross him." Chapter 5 I didn't say a word, just gave a quiet nod, and hauled my heavy bag of recyclables all the way back home. That same day, Lucky was leaving me too. A girl who didn't mind that it was missing a leg had driven two hours just to pick it up. Lucky had a new adopter, a new home. It should have been a happy thing. Yet as I handed Lucky over to the girl, I didn't know what had gotten into me that I suddenly started crying uncontrollably. Big, heavy tears splashed down onto the ground, completely freaking her out. "Are you crying because you'll miss Lucky? Don't worry, I'll take really good care of it!" I wanted to tell her no, that wasn't it, that I was dying soon and Lucky needed a new home to survive. Instead, I was sobbing so hard I couldn't even catch my breath, completely unable to speak. The girl asked with deep concern, "You look terrible. Do you need to go to the hospital?" I shook my head. I didn't need a hospital. The only place I was heading was straight to hell. Grief, resentment, heartbreak… An unbearable wave of agony swallowed me whole, and Lucky kept meowing, making the pain in my chest even sharper. I had no choice but to turn my back, using every last ounce of strength I had left to choke out, "Just go. Please." The girl gave one more solemn promise. "Don't worry, I swear I'll take good care of it!" With that, she turned and left with Lucky in her arms. I collapsed onto the couch, feeling like my soul had been ripped right out of my body, leaving behind nothing but a river of endless tears. Yet just a few hours later, my phone rang with a call from the girl. The sound of her sobbing echoed through the receiver. "I'm so sorry... Lucky ran out onto the street and got hit by a car… "The driver gave me two thousand dollars in compensation, but I felt like I had to tell you. Let me transfer the money to you..." The moment those words left her lips, my heart skipped several beats, and the world completely vanished from beneath my feet. By the time my brain caught up, a mouthful of dark blood had already spewed from my lips. The call had already disconnected, and the girl had sent me two thousand dollars along with a single photo. Lucky's broken, mangled little body lay slumped like a bloody mass of mud in the middle of the street. It hadn't bolted into traffic by accident at all—it had been deliberately, brutally crushed to death! Ignoring the blood dripping down my chin, my hands shook violently as I zoomed in on the photo. That car… It was Summer's car! I could never mistake it. Dylan had bought it specifically for her. The girl kept sending apologetic texts, one after another. I didn't read a single word, slowly forcing myself up from the couch. Then, with a terrifying, absolute blankness in my eyes, I walked straight into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and headed straight for Dylan's house. Chapter 6 When I stormed into the apartment, Dylan and Summer were at the dining table. Without a word, I raised the knife and aimed straight at Summer! She shrieked in terror and scrambled out of the way. My wrist was instantly caught in Dylan's iron grip, his face twisted in absolute, blinding fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I whipped out my phone, shoved the photo right into his face, and ground out through clenched teeth. "Your precious little angel ran over and crushed my cat to death! Look at the tire tracks, it was completely deliberate! "I didn't want to keep fighting over the past, but I drew the line at this!" Summer's eyes turned red and watery as her voice trembled. "I—I wasn't trying to! I paid money for it, I'm so sorry, Eleanor..." "An apology doesn't bring it back! Summer, haven't I suffered enough these past three years? Why couldn't you even spare a cat? Are you even human?!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, half out of my mind, wishing I could just carve her up right then and there. Dylan furrowed his brows. "It's just an animal. Why are you making such a massive deal out of this? "Summer already apologized and offered compensation. At least she has more decency than you! "You still haven't apologized or owned up to what you did three years ago!" "I told you a million times, I never stole her spot! Are you completely deaf?!" I snapped, letting out a raw, desperate roar as three years of pent-up grievance flooded backward like a tidal wave. "I’m your actual sister! Why is it so impossible for you to believe me?! "Would you finally be happy if I dropped dead right this second?!" Watching my unhinged, frantic state, Dylan looked at me with cold disappointment. "You’re completely out of your mind." Suddenly, Summer scurried over, wrapping her hands around mine with a sickeningly fragile, pitiful expression. "Eleanor, I was wrong. I really didn't mean to. What can I do to make you forgive me—" "Crack!" Before she could finish, I whipped my hand across her face in a vicious slap. She froze in place, clutching her cheek in sheer disbelief. Seeing me strike her, Dylan's gaze turned glacial. "Looks like you haven't learned a single lesson in three years." With that, he returned the exact same slap to my face on Summer's behalf. The blow knocked my head sideways, leaving my ear ringing with a loud, hollow hum. He stared down at his own hand, a flicker of regret crossing his features as he spat out, "You forced my hand!" Though that slap landed on my cheek, it shattered whatever was left of my heart. Dylan had officially severed the last remaining thread of our already broken family. If there was a shred of hatred left in me before, it was all gone now. I swallowed hard, forcing down the warm metallic taste of blood rising in my throat, and gave a cold, mocking laugh. "Go ahead and celebrate. You got your wish." Wiping a stray drop of blood from my face, I turned and walked away. "Celebrate what?! Get back here and finish what you're saying!" When I didn't stop, he lunged forward to grab me, but I whipped around and hurled my shattered phone straight at him. "Back off!" Dylan stood frozen in his tracks, looking somewhat stunned and lost as he stared at my retreating back, making no move to chase me down again. Once I made it out of the building, I headed straight for the pedestrian overpass, climbing the steps until I reached the highest point. Looking down at the endless, rushing streams of traffic below, a heavy, unshakeable peace settled over me. I was finally going to be free. … That night was destined to be filled with chaos. Barely minutes after I left, the broken phone left behind on the floor started ringing. Glancing down at the cracked screen, Dylan automatically reached down and answered the call. The voice on the other end belonged to Mr. Cole, sounding deeply annoyed. "Miss Mitchell, you've pushed back another day. I’ve let this go on for this long only because of your lung cancer diagnosis. "But I can't hold that plot for you anymore. Someone else just came in and paid for it in full."