Chapter 4

It was still dark. A sliver of pale light shone through the crack in the door to the master bedroom, deep in the corridor.

The light was like a cold steel needle, piercing my transparent soul.

A series of annoying keystrokes drew me in. I followed the light into the room, where I was confronted with an extremely glaring private university tuition bill.

The father sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers frantically tapping on the calculator.

"Sixty-two thousand US dollars." The father's voice was filled with unfathomable despair. "And this is just Matt's tuition and room and board for his first year."

The calculator emitted a cold "beep beep" sound, much like the life-threatening electrocardiogram monitor in the intensive care unit.

The mother, dressed in pajamas and with her hair disheveled, sat in the shadows, staring intently at the bill, saying nothing.

“If it weren’t for Alex’s imported drugs…” My father suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with a calculating light that sent chills down my spine.

"If it weren't for the cost of his regular hospital stays, the money we saved would have been just enough for Matt's first year of tuition!"

These words struck me like a heavy hammer, slamming into my empty chest.

It turns out that in my father's ledger, my life was exactly equal to my younger brother's future.

"Stop talking." The mother covered her face in anguish, her voice trembling violently. "He's still your son, you can't just watch him die..."

“We’ve been taking care of him for five whole years! How much longer do we have to take care of him?” The father slammed the calculator on the ground.

With a "crack," the plastic casing shattered into pieces instantly.

The sound of shattering was particularly jarring in the silent dawn.

“The doctor said long ago that he could leave at any time…” The father grabbed his hair in frustration, his eyes red-rimmed. “I don’t want him to die! I just feel that Matt’s future cannot be completely ruined by him!”

I floated in mid-air, watching my father, who was usually stoic and silent, now resemble a wild beast driven to the brink of despair.

I floated to my mother's side, opened my arms, and tried to hug her trembling shoulders tightly.

"Mom, I don't want treatment anymore." I cried and shouted into her ear, "Give all the money to Matt, really, I don't want treatment anymore, let me go."

But she couldn't hear me. My transparent arms pierced through her body again and again.

Once upon a time, I was also their proudest perfect student.

But these five years of terminal illness not only burned through every penny of our family's savings, but also burned away all their love and patience for me. I became a sinful vampire.

The sky outside the window gradually turned a pale white.

As the first ray of sunlight pierced the darkness, the mother slowly stood up and forcefully wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes.

"I'll go make breakfast for Alex." Her voice returned to its usual calm, but carried a heavy sense of compromise.

Soon, the sizzling sound of bacon frying in a pan could be heard from the kitchen.

Those were my favorite pancakes and bacon before I got sick.

A rich aroma wafted up the stairs to the second floor. This familiar, homey scent now felt like an absurd, dark comedy.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The mother carried an exquisitely arranged tray and climbed the wooden stairs step by step.

I stood beside her, watching the forced, gentle smile on her face. It was a carefully prepared "reconciliation" to make up for the loss of control last night.

She stopped in front of my bedroom door.

"Clang." She took the cold key out of her pocket and inserted it precisely into the lock.

With a "click," the metal lock that had completely blocked my way out was finally turned open.

The mother pushed open the door: "Alex, Mom made your favorite dish..."

Her voice stopped abruptly.