Biased Parents, Ten Years LieChapter 1

It was New Year's Eve, and my brother, Finn, suddenly tagged our parents in the family chat—parents who’d been dead for ten years.

“I’ve decided to forgive big brother. You two can stop pretending now!”

Right after, Dad’s profile picture, a frowning emoji, popped up: “Finn, didn’t we agree to punish him until you got married? Why the sudden change of heart?”

Mom’s angry emoji followed: “If it weren’t for him ten years ago, Finn wouldn't have been stuck in that wheelchair all this time!”

Then she tagged me: “You should be grateful for Finn’s kind heart. That’s why you get to see us so soon and join us for dinner tonight. Come back and thank him properly!”

It hit me then. The car crash ten years ago—it was all a charade. A staged death, orchestrated by them, just to punish me because I’d accidentally pushed Finn down the stairs.

But they didn't know. I wouldn’t be making it to their long-awaited family dinner, not after ten years.

To pay off their debts and put Finn through school, I’d worked over fifty hours straight. I’d died, slumped over my desk at work.

* * *

Half an hour passed since Mom’s message, and the chat remained silent on my end.

Dad frowned: “Still no reply from the kid. Could he be mad we faked our deaths to punish him?”

“Forget him. If it weren't for him, Finn wouldn't have broken his leg and still be unable to walk.” Mom emerged from the kitchen, scoffing dismissively as she placed a plate of braised ribs in front of Finn. “Making him raise Finn for ten years was already the lightest punishment.”

Finn beamed: “Thanks, Mom, for making my favorite ribs every year.”

Dad looked at Finn, a troubled expression on his face. “But we left him with a huge debt. He has to pay five hundred a month, plus taking care of Finn…”

Mom smiled faintly, stroking Finn’s hair. Then she glared at Dad: “You’re too soft. If that brute isn’t tempered, he’ll end up in trouble sooner or later. We’re doing this for his own good.” She paused. “Besides, Finn’s leg is a lifelong injury. All that money is in our accounts. Consider it Finn’s future life fund!”

Dad's doubts vanished. “You’re right. If it weren’t for him, Finn would’ve had a happy life. If he’s sulking and doesn’t come back tonight, then we’ll never bother with him again.”

But just as he finished speaking, a jarring phone rang.

Mom frowned: “It’s New Year’s, why is your office calling again?”

Dad didn’t respond, pulling out his phone. It was an unknown number. He answered, and a hurried voice came through.

“Is this Elias’s family? Elias suffered a cerebral hemorrhage due to excessive overtime and has been rushed to the ER. Please come to St. Jude’s Hospital immediately!”

Before Dad could speak, Mom snatched the phone, her voice impatient: “Is this Elias, that good-for-nothing, putting you up to this? Tell him that he hurt Finn’s leg, and ten years of punishment was already lenient. If he has any conscience left, he’ll come back and apologize to Finn again!”

“Otherwise, don’t bother coming back home!” With that, she hung up and blocked the number, all in one swift motion.

She tossed the phone back to Dad, scoffing: “That scoundrel is just trying to avoid apologizing to Finn, trying to make us bow down!” She paused. “Don’t answer any more calls like this. I want to see what other tricks he can pull!” She then smiled at Finn: “Finn, Mom will make a few more of your favorite dishes.” With a sway, she walked back into the kitchen.

My soul hovered above, witnessing their conversation, finally understanding everything.

When I was fifteen, I accidentally knocked my eight-year-old brother, Finn, down the stairs. After a hospital visit, Finn was diagnosed with a comminuted fracture, condemning him to a wheelchair for life. My parents told me it was an accident, that it was okay. They showered me with affection, terrified I’d be scarred by guilt. Two months later, they died in a car crash on their way home from the hospital. In their final moments, they clutched my hand, tears streaming down their faces. “We’re most worried about your brother. He’s only eight and has lost the use of his legs. You must take good care of him.” With those words, they passed away.

The day after their funeral, a group of shadowy figures showed up, claiming my parents owed a massive debt. They threatened to kill me and Finn if I didn’t pay up. So, I took on the burden, dropped out of school early, and every month, besides supporting Finn and putting him through school, I had to pay five hundred towards the debt. With no degree, I could only do manual labor, juggling multiple jobs a day. Every evening, I felt half-dead. Finn always said he felt insecure, so apart from the five hundred, I’d transfer all my remaining money to him at the end of the month, reassuring him I’d never abandon him.

This went on for ten years.

But I never imagined it was all a staged punishment, a twisted game they played to get back at me for Finn.

Between seven and eight o’clock that evening, Dad received several more calls from unknown numbers, but he dutifully ignored them, as Mom had instructed.

Mom washed her hands, came out, and sat down, a cold smile on her face. “Looks like he’s still not giving up, but he was the one who messed up first. There’s no way we’ll back down!”

Dad stammered, “They all sounded really panicked. Could something actually have happened to Elias…”

At this, Finn pulled out the last e-gift card I'd sent him an hour ago. “This is the gift Elias just sent me. Dad, the first call you got was around this time too. He called me then and said he’d be home soon. He’s not back yet, so he must be angry with me.”

Seeing this, Dad breathed a sigh of relief, then scoffed: “That rotten kid, almost had me fooled!” He paused. “If he’s not coming back, then he shouldn’t. He can rot outside for all I care!”

As he wished, I was already dead.