Chapter 1

When I was four, my little brother and I almost drowned.

After we got rescued, my mom slapped me across the face.

She shouted, "I told you to watch your brother. You almost got him killed. Did you do it on purpose?"

Since then, if I ate one piece of my brother's candy, I got punished and wasn't allowed to eat.

If I secretly played with his toy car, my mom locked me in the basement.

At first, my dad tried to reason with her.

But my mom hugged my brother tightly and said, "He caused Wilbur's brain damage. I can't let Wilbur suffer anymore."

When I was eight, the old man next door tried to lure my brother into his house with a lollipop.

I stepped in to protect him and got dragged inside instead.

When I finally crawled home, covered in bruises, my mom kicked me to the ground. "Oliver, Wilbur is weak and sick because of you, and now you pulled a runaway stunt?

"Can't you give us a break? I wish I never gave birth to you!"

I dragged my still-bleeding body to the back of the closet and pulled out a red pouch.

Inside was a gold pendant my mom once gave me. She said it represented her hope that I'd live a long and healthy life.

I stared at it for a long time, then calmly swallowed it.

Mom, I didn't want to live a long life anymore.

*****

The gold pendant was pretty big, and it got stuck in my throat. It hurt and felt really uncomfortable.

I kept swallowing, even gulping down water from the cup, trying to wash it down.

After a real struggle, the pendant finally slid down with a gulp.

My stomach felt heavy, kind of chilly, and a little sore.

Mom used to tell me stories about people swallowing gold to end their lives, just to keep me from eating weird things.

I was a little scared, but also a bit relieved.

Maybe if I died, the pain would finally stop, and I wouldn't feel bad anymore.

Mom barged in and shot me a sharp look. "Oliver, why are you standing there like an idiot?

"Oliver, hurry up and get out here for dinner. Wilbur's still hungry. And all you ever do is act all pitiful," she snapped.

I followed her out, but my stomach felt worse and worse, like I'd swallowed a heavy stone.

I didn't want to piss Mom off, so I grit my teeth and choked down a couple of bites.

Dad saw I was looking weak and reached out to feel my forehead.

"Oliver, why do you look so pale? Do you have a fever?" he asked.

But Mom slapped his hand away, added another piece of meat to Wilbur's plate, saying coldly, "What could possibly be wrong with him? He's obviously faking it, trying to get us to care about him.

"Ignore him. Finish eating and take Wilbur out for a walk."

Wilbur sat next to Mom, flashing me a big grin and waving the toy car she'd given him.

The gold pendant in my stomach seemed to move around, and I nearly threw up.

Mom saw me clutching my stomach, and her expression darkened even more.

"Do you have any manners? Can't you behave yourself, even at the dinner table?" she snapped.

I forced a smile, trying to please her, and whispered, "Mom, my stomach hurts."

"If you don't want to eat, then get out of here and go to your room. Stop being an eyesore!" she snapped.

Dad opened his mouth, but in the end, he only let out a sigh.

Before heading out, Mom told Dad, "Let Ron help watch Oliver for a while."

For a moment, I felt a warm feeling in my chest. Maybe Mom still cared about me.

But the next second, Mom shot me an impatient look.

"Just make sure Oliver doesn't pull any stunts again. Haven't we had enough headaches because of him?" she snapped.

She didn't care if I got hurt at home. She just didn't want me causing any more trouble.

But I really didn't like Ron Gaines. He always made me feel awful.

Dad talked to Ron for a bit, and then Ron came over grinning.

"Oliver, come over to my place and watch cartoons," he said.

Mom stood nearby, her voice icy. "Behave yourself and don't cause any trouble!"

I didn't dare fight back anymore. If I did, they'd just get angry.

My stomach hurt so much that I huddled up in the corner of the couch.

Ron came over and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close.

"Oliver, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?" he asked.

He started rubbing my back, and I tensed up, scared. "I'm okay," I mumbled.

Ron saw the cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, and that gross grin vanished from his face.

"Damn it, don't get sick in my house. Go home," he snapped.

He yanked me up from the couch, not caring if it hurt.

My legs were so weak that he half-dragged, half-carried me back home.

Ron shoved me onto the bed and yanked the blanket over me, even covering my head.

He barked, "When your parents get back, say you were so tired you fell asleep by yourself. Got it?

"Don't you dare tell them what I did. Not that anyone would believe you either."

I wouldn't have told Mom and Dad anyway, even if Ron hadn't said anything.

Back when some bigger boys picked on me, Mom only said I was being immature, that I was already misbehaving at my age.

Under the blanket, I bit down hard on my lip so I wouldn't make a sound, forcing myself not to cry.

The blanket was so thick I could barely breathe, and waves of cold kept washing over me.

Outside, I could hear Mom and Dad coming home with Wilbur.