Chapter 4

Alas, cancer treatment was a bottomless pit even if I was discharged and brought back home.

As my parents watched the money go down the drain while my condition showed no signs of improving, the flimsy and tightly stretched thread holding the family together finally snapped.

Another argument broke out. It was fiercer than any before.

"We've already spent half of the 50,000 dollars! If this goes on, we'll burn through our retirement savings too!" Dad hurled the bill onto the floor.

"He's your son too! What do you want to do, pull the plug?" Mom shot back.

She let out a cold snort and added, "If you want to pull it, you do it. Don't expect me to take the blame for such an outrageous act."

"Fine! Neither of us is going to do anything, right? Then we'll just leave it at that!" Dad roared, giving the coffee table a forceful kick that flipped it over.

He grabbed his jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Mom was trembling with rage. She pointed at me and cursed, "You good-for-nothing burden!"

Then, she snatched up her purse and left in a fury as well.

For three whole days, neither of them came back.

The pill bottle on my nightstand had long since run empty. I had swallowed my last painkiller the day before.

However, I didn't dare call them. I didn't dare ask them for money to buy more medicine. It would most likely only end in them cursing each other and pushing the responsibility onto the other.

So, I endured it.

I curled into myself. Then, I bit my lip until it cracked and bled.

I lied to myself over and over in my mind, "Just endure it a little longer. If I just hold on a little longer, it won't hurt anymore…"

This was just like the time when I was seven and came down with a high fever. Mom and Dad had been angry at each other and hadn't come home for an entire week. Running a high fever and barely conscious, I had survived by drinking tap water and eating some stale buns.

I had endured it back then, and I could endure it again now.

But this time, my body refused to cooperate. The pain grew more and more intense, making it feel as though countless needles were piercing every inch of me. Cold sweat soaked through my clothes and dried from my body heat, leaving the damp fabric clinging to my skin.

I was about to reach my limit.

Dragging my heavy legs, I climbed out of bed. "Zara… Medicine…"

Zara was changing her shoes in the living room. She was meeting her friends at a bar that day.

When she saw me, she frowned and asked impatiently, "What do you want now, Wilbur? What's with that dreadful look? Are you mourning at a wake or something?"

I replied with difficulty, "Medicine… I need medicine… It hurts…"

"When Mom and Dad fought, they knocked over all the medicine bottles and mixed them all up. How am I supposed to know which one is yours?"

She halfheartedly rummaged through the bottles on the table before casually picking one up. It happened to be my bottle of painkillers.

She glanced inside and saw that it was empty. Without a second thought, she pulled a handful of colorful things from her pocket and stuffed them into it.

"Here, take it. Once you eat these, it won't hurt anymore," Zara said flippantly.

She tossed the bottle into my arms, her voice dripping with disgust. "Stop pretending you're dying and keep dragging everyone down. Just looking at you annoys me. Hurry up, eat them, and go to sleep. I'm late for my gathering!"

I unscrewed the cap with trembling hands. What came out wasn't white tablets. It was piece after piece of colorful, chewy candy. They were the imported candies Zara loved to eat.

At that moment, my heart hurt even more than my body.

Even so, I put one of the sickeningly sweet candies into my mouth and chewed it hard. The artificial flavor spread through my mouth, mixing with the taste of blood in my throat until it became utterly nauseating.

"Well? It doesn't hurt anymore, right?" Zara asked impatiently as she tied her shoelaces.

Suppressing the unbearable pain, I forced a smile that looked even uglier than if I were crying and nodded. "Yeah… I feel much better. Thanks, Zara… You should go meet your friends."

She couldn't wait another second. Right away, she grabbed her keys and rushed out the door.

As I chewed that piece of candy, my tears finally burst free.

Since all of them hated me so much, and since my existence brought them nothing but pain and burden… I would disappear, then. With my departure, I would no longer owe them anything.

Dragging my terminally ill body, I left home on a stormy night when the rain poured relentlessly.

…

On the first day after I left, no one noticed.

On the second day, no one noticed either. Mom thought I was with Dad, and Dad thought I was at the hospital. Zara thought I was lying in my room pretending to be dead.

Each of them lived their own lives, enjoying the peace and quiet of being free from their burdensome family member.

It wasn't until the evening of the third day, when a teacher from my school called to ask about me, that they realized something was wrong.

They finally pushed open my bedroom door, only to find the room completely empty. The quilt had been folded neatly, as though no one had ever lived there.

Only then did they panic. They hurried to report me missing to the police and searched for me frantically.

A week later, a police officer suddenly came to the house.

"Are you Wilbur Johnson's family? We discovered an unidentified young man's body beneath a bridge on the west side of the city."