They Loved Me After I Died

My birth broke my mother.

It was a difficult labor, one that left her body scarred and her mind fractured by severe postpartum depression.

From the time I was an infant, the slightest sound from me would send her into a frenzy. She would scream, her hands finding my throat, squeezing until my face turned purple.

But then, the storm would pass. She would collapse in front of my crib, sobbing, whispering, "Im sorry, Im so sorry."

My brother, Tyler, would look at my bruises with pity, but hed always tell me the same thing: "Mom used to be gentle. Before you. Dont blame her."

My father dealt with it by burying me in toys, guilt-wrapped gifts meant to buy my silence. "Be understanding, Harper," hed say, his eyes weary. "Just endure it a little longer. Shell get better."

So, I learned to make myself small. I walked on eggshells. I didn't dare to cry, and I certainly didn't dare to laugh. I existed in the margins of their lives, waiting for Mom to be "cured."

But on my sixth birthday, I made a mistake. I stared at the cake, and for a split second, I swallowed hard, hungry for the sugar.

Moms face twisted. Her eyes went red, filled with a terrifying, familiar hate. She swept the cake off the table with a violent crash.

"You nearly killed me on the operating table!" she screamed, her voice shredding the celebratory mood. "How dare you want cake? Where do you get the nerve?"

Tyler, who had been smiling just seconds before, turned on me. "Were you starving in a past life or something? Couldn't you wait five minutes? Do you have to ruin everything by upsetting Mom?"

Dad, exhausted from work and life, finally snapped.

"We shouldn't have had you," he groaned, head in his hands. "The three of us... we were fine. We were happy."

They escorted Mom out of the room, cooing at her, protecting the victim.

I stood there, looking at the ruin on the floor. Tears streamed down my face as I walked toward the balcony.

......

I didn't hesitate. I climbed over the railing, let go, and fell.

There was a dull thud, and then, finally, relief.

My spirit felt light. It drifted, untethered, floating back up to the thirty-second floor, back into the penthouse apartment.

The living room was silent.

Only the smashed cake on the floor remained, a mute witness to the chaos. I walked over to the mess of frosting and sponge.

I couldn't stop crying.

In six years, this was the first time they had celebrated my birthday.

Usually, because Mom hated me, nothing I did was right. If I cried, I was a burden. If I laughed, she would fly into a rage and beat me.

In the beginning, Dad and Tyler tried to be the buffer. They would sneak me candy, buy me little trinkets. But whenever Mom found out, the hysteria that followed was so intense, so draining, that they stopped.

Eventually, they just got tired.

When Mom hit me, they learned to look away. They knew the drill: she needed to vent. Once she got it out of her system, shed be calm again.

So they just repeated the mantra to me, over and over:

"Just bear it, Harper. Just a little longer. Mom will get better."

There were so many nights, half-asleep after a beating, tears crusting on my cheeks, where I would dream. I dreamed of someone gently applying cool ointment to my wounds. I dreamed that person was crying, too.

In the dream, I would whimper, "Mom, please don't hit me, I know I was wrong."

And the person would flee, sobbing.

I looked down at the cake now.

"I need to clean this up," I mumbled to myself, the habit ingrained in my soul. "If Mom comes back and sees this mess, she'll be angry again. Shes just getting better; I cant trigger her..."

I reached for the broom. My hand passed right through the handle.

I tried again, clumsy and desperate, but I couldn't grasp it.

I lifted my sleeve to wipe my eyes.

Youre useless, Harper, I thought. Even now, you cant do one last thing for this family.

Just as the sorrow threatened to swallow me whole, a force pulled me away.

I blinked, and suddenly I was watching three familiar figures sitting in a high-end restaurant.

Crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, food that looked like artit was a scene Id only ever seen on TV.

Moms eyes were still red, her voice thick with resentment.

"Giving birth to her ruined my body. I have chronic pain. I can't work. Ten years of climbing the corporate ladder, all gone because of that pregnancy."

"Its all her fault," she spat. "Shes a leech. A curse. Why doesn't she just die?"

Dad patted her hand, soothing. "Okay, okay, honey. Youre right. We should have stopped with Tyler. It was a mistake."

Tyler hugged Mom from the side, his face full of sympathy. "If she wasn't here, everything would be perfect. You wouldn't have been in pain for all these years."

I stood beside their table, weeping.

I didn't know. I didn't know my existence had destroyed Moms life so thoroughly. I didn't know I caused them all so much pain.

I shouldn't have been born.

I wanted to scream at them:

"Mom, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I hurt you!"

"Mom, I've paid for it with my life. I won't make you angry ever again."

"Mom, if there is a next life, please, don't be my mother."

On the drive home, they passed a bakery that was about to close.

Mom hesitated for a second. Her voice was unnatural, strained.

"I... I suddenly want something sweet. Let me buy a slice of cake."

Dad and Tyler exchanged a look. They both smiled, a look of relief washing over them.

"Its for Harper, isn't it?" Tyler said confidently. "I knew it. You still love her, Mom."

For me?

I stared at them, confused. A tiny, foolish spark of hope flickered in my chest, even though I knew it was too late.

I followed them back home.

The moment the door opened, Mom saw the mess on the flooruntouched, exactly as they left it. Her face fell.

Dad frowned, shooting Tyler a look.

Tyler immediately went for the broom, grumbling under his breath. "Harper is so clueless. We finally got Mom in a good mood, and she couldn't even clean up the living room?"

I waved my hands frantically, desperate to explain.

"No, Tyler! I didn't want to be lazy! I'm dead! I can't hold the broom!"

But my words dissolved into the air.

Mom let out a cold laugh, raising her voice so it would carry to my bedroom.

"Look at that laziness! I nearly died bringing you into this world, and now I can't even say a few words to you without you throwing a tantrum?"

Silence.

Usually, before Moms expression could even shift, I would be out there, apologizing, working. I had never ignored a scolding before.

Moms anger spiked. She slammed the new cake onto the table and marched toward my door.

I watched her, nervous but expectant.

Mom, open the door. Open it, and you'll see that I've disappeared. You'll see that I'll never upset you again.

But just as her hand touched the knob, Dad stopped her.

For the first time in forever, he spoke up for me.

"It's her birthday, Diane. The kid is probably asleep. Let it go for tonight. Don't lecture her."

Moms face twitched, but she dropped her hand.

Later, after Mom fell asleep, Dad went to the balcony to smoke.

Tyler followed him.

"Dad, this is all Harper's fault," Tyler complained. "Because she's always triggering Mom, I can never have friends over. I have to walk on eggshells just doing my homework. When does it end?"

"I wish she would just disappear..."

"Shut up!"

Dad slapped the back of Tylers head before he could finish.

"She is your sister! How can you curse her like that?"

"But Dad, youre exhausted too! Ive seen you sitting in the car downstairs for an hour, smoking, because you dont want to come up!" Tyler rubbed his head, defiant.

Dad opened his mouth to argue, but then just sighed.

"Harper... she doesn't have it easy," he murmured. "But... I am tired. God, Im tired. If I could just have a few days of peace..."

Looking at the deep lines on my father's face, my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles.

"Dad, look down! Just look down!"

"If you just look over the railing, you'll see! The problem is gone. The burden is gone. Harper is dead."

I screamed soundlessly.

"Look! I'm dead! Youll have peace now! You won't be dragged down by me anymore!"

But no one heard my desperate plea.

The next morning.

Everyone woke up, but the table was empty. No warm milk, no eggs.

Tyler looked into the kitchen, confused. "Why didn't Harper make breakfast?"

To please Mom, I had taken over all the chores. Since I was tall enough to stand on a stool, I had been making breakfast for the whole family.

Mom sneered, her face twisting into that familiar mask of disdain.

"Great. I gave birth to a little princess. I say two words to her, and she goes on strike. Next thing you know, shell be burning the house down."

She stormed toward my room, shouting.

"Harper! Get up! Are you going to school or not?"

She reached for the door handle. My heart leaped into my throat.

"Har"

The word died in her throat.

Dad and Tyler saw the look on her face and rushed over.

The room was empty. The bed was made, the duvet folded with military precision.

"Did she... not come home last night?" Tyler asked, his voice wavering.

"Nonsense!" Mom snapped instantly. "It was freezing last night. Where else would she go?"

Dad was silent for a moment. "She's probably sulking. Maybe she went to school early on her own. Isn't today the parent-teacher conference? I'll ask for time off and go check."

"I'll go," Mom said, turning to get dressed. "Your job is important. I'll handle the conference."

"Can you... handle it?" Dad grabbed her arm, worried.

We all knew that since the depression hit, Mom was terrified of crowds. Being alone in public made her feel like she was suffocating.

I drifted over, trying to block her. I didn't want her to suffer for me.

"The doctor said I'm better. Don't worry," Mom muttered, wrapping a scarf around her neck aggressively. "Harper is getting more and more disobedient. When I find her, shes going to get it."

Mom hurried out.

As soon as she stepped out of the building, she saw a crowd gathered at the back of the complex.

"I heard someone jumped. Blood everywhere."

"Just a kid. Shame. Died so young."

"Police said the body's been there all night. Stiff as a board. Where the hell were the parents? Irresponsible."

Moms pace slowed. Panic flickered in her eyes.

Suddenly, a small dog darted out, grabbing her pant leg and dragging her toward the crowd.

I recognized him instantly. Buster. The stray dog I played with whenever Mom kicked me out of the house. I used to save half my breakfast for him.

Mom, allergic to dog hair, kicked him away.

Buster didn't give up. He came back, whimpering, tugging her toward the police tape. He knew. He knew she was my mother, and he wanted her to see me.

But Mom frowned, disgusted, and kicked him harder.

I tried to hug the dog. Don't hurt him.

Buster howled, running back to my body, barking at anyone who tried to get too close.

Mom backed away from the crowd, muttering to herself, a mantra of denial.

"It can't be Harper. That damn kid doesn't have the guts to die."

I watched her stumble away.

"Mom," I whispered. "I'm not a coward. I was brave."

"Mom, just look back. Please. Crowds make you sick... you don't have to force yourself to go to school..."

I followed her all the way to the school.

I felt a strange mix of anxiety and excitement. This was the first time Mom had ever come to my school.

Dad was usually busy traveling. Hed come a few times, but mostly, I sat alone. I used to watch the other kids with their parents and feel so jealous my stomach hurt.

Mom wandered the halls for a long time before she found my classroom.

She looked around frantically but didn't see me.

When she saw the homeroom teacher, Mrs. Gable, walk in, she rushed up.

"Mrs. Gable, where is my daughter? Where is Harper? I can't find her."

Mrs. Gable looked at her with a strange expression.

"You're Harper's mother? The class monitor said she wasn't here during roll call. I was just about to call you."

"What is going on? We never see you at conferences, and now that the child is missing, you show up demanding answers?"

Mom panicked.

A nameless dread washed over her. The scene from the apartment complexthe police tape, the whispers about a jumperflashed in her mind.

She forced it down.

"Nonsense! Mrs. Gable, are you covering for her? Is that little brat hiding? She has to be here! Tell her to come out! I'm going to teach her a lesson!"

Mrs. Gable stared at the unhinged woman in front of her. Her face hardened.

"Mrs. Ji, how do you not know where your own daughter is?"

"I checked the security cameras. Harper never entered the building. That is why I was calling you."

Seeing the teacher's serious face, Mom realized she wasn't lying. The ground seemed to tilt beneath her.

Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone.

But before she could dial, Dads name flashed on the screen.

She answered.

On the other end, Dads voice was trembling, barely human.

"The police just called me. Harper... she jumped."