After I Died, They Finally Cared

I knew my family was struggling financially from a very young age. Being sick cost money. So, I was never allowed to get sick.

When I was four years old and running a terrible fever, my mother picked me up by the collar and shoved me into the refrigerator.

I was still conscious when she finally dragged me out. I just stared at her, blinking slowly. My face was freezing. My tears had frozen into tiny, icy rivers on my cheeks. I couldn't even cry anymore.

Mom glared at me, her voice dripping with annoyance. "I know you are just faking it to skip school. Look at you, you are not dead, are you?"

After that day, I kept every single ache and pain completely to myself.

I figured Mom was right. I must be faking it.

If I wasn't, how could my body naturally recover without a single pill or shot every time I felt unwell?

That was until the mandatory health screening before middle school.

I ran all the way home, clutching the official cancer diagnosis in my hand, my heart soaring with a strange, nervous joy. "Mom! I have cancer!"

This time, with a real doctor's note, Mom would definitely not think I was faking it.

Mom, I am not lying to you this time.

...

I ran home with the medical paper, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The doctor told me I only had three months left to live. Even though I didn't want to die yet, I couldn't help but look forward to the next three months. I was finally going to get some care and attention from my parents.

Whenever my little brother got sick, the entire family would hover over him, waiting on him hand and foot.

I wasn't greedy. I would be completely satisfied if someone just held my hand and took me to the hospital.

Pushing the front door open, I held the white diagnostic report high in the air, terrified my parents might miss it.

"Mom! Dad! I got cancer!"

The air went dead silent for two seconds. Then, hurried footsteps approached, accompanied by the familiar scent of Mom's vanilla perfume.

I lowered the paper and opened my arms wide, fully prepared to be swept into my mother's warm embrace.

Riiiip!

With a sharp tear, the diagnosis was snatched from my hand and ripped to shreds.

Before my brain could even process what had just happened, a burning pain exploded across my cheek.

"Did you forget your brother is sleeping?! How dare you make up such a ridiculous lie!"

Dad put down his newspaper and walked over.

"Maite, you are a big girl now. You need to start acting your age. Everyone knows you have the constitution of an ox."

"You haven't even caught a cold since you were a toddler. If you are going to lie, at least make it believable."

Cupping my stinging cheek, I pointed a trembling finger at the trash can.

"But the doctor said it..."

My parents had already turned their backs on me. They were busy discussing Noah's premium meal plan.

"Noah has lost a little weight recently. It seems the two-thousand-dollar monthly catering plan still isn't nutritious enough for him."

Dad sighed, his face etched with deep worry.

"But upgrading to the premium tier costs four thousand a month. We simply cannot afford that."

Mom suddenly shifted her gaze back to me.

"My hospital is recruiting volunteers for a new clinical drug trial. They specifically need healthy individuals. The payout is fifteen thousand dollars per person."

"I was going to do it myself, but we are both way too busy with work."

Hearing the underlying meaning in her words, a spark of hope reignited in my chest.

If volunteering required a clean bill of health, then the medical checkup would prove to my parents that I wasn't lying.

"Mom, let me be the volunteer."

Dad immediately scooped me up into his arms.

"Our big girl is finally looking out for her baby brother. You know Noah has been frail since he was born. As his older sister, you need to be more understanding."

Mom let out a cold scoff.

"Trying to take credit now that you know you messed up, huh? Fine, I will give you this chance."

She pulled a round, dark red pill out of her pocket and gestured for me to swallow it.

"Good thing I am on the hospital staff. I bypassed all that tedious paperwork."

I didn't take it. I stared at the pill nervously.

"Mom... aren't I supposed to get a physical exam first?"

Mom's eyebrows knitted together in sheer frustration.

"What physical exam? You just want to waste our money! If your body isn't healthy, then there isn't a single healthy person left on this planet."

Hearing my sturdy little brother let out a soft cough from the living room, Dad grabbed the pill from Mom's hand. He snatched a glass of water from the table.

Ignoring my panicked struggles, he forced the pill directly down my throat.

"Stop wasting time arguing with a kid. Noah just coughed. Go check if he is catching a cold."

I choked violently, unable to formulate a single word.

Mom grabbed me by the arm, dragged me into my bedroom, and locked the door from the outside.

"I already disinfected your room. You stay in there and behave."

"The observation period is three days. Once you pass, I will take you to the hospital to get the money. If you show a good attitude, Mom will treat you to McDonald's."

My head began to throb violently. I wanted to tell Mom I felt incredibly sick, but my vocal cords refused to make a sound.

I pounded on the bedroom door with all my might, forcing a tiny whimper through my clenched teeth.

"Mom... Dad... please come save me."

Bang!

The door violently shuddered as Dad kicked it from the outside, his last shred of patience entirely gone.

"The only reason your brother is so weak is because you absorbed all the nutrients in your mother's womb! And you still have the nerve to complain? You clearly haven't learned your lesson!"

Mom suddenly let out a sharp gasp. For a fleeting second, I thought they had fished my diagnosis out of the trash and realized it was real.

"Honey! Noah's temperature is 99 degrees! He is almost running a fever!"

"Hurry, get him to the ER!"

Dad didn't even bother listening to the muffled, agonizing sounds I was making against the wood. A cluster of keys jingled frantically.

I heard the heavy thud of the front door slamming shut. Reaching up to touch my face, I realized two trails of thick blood were leaking out of my eye sockets.

Mom. Dad. It hurts so much.

My consciousness slowly faded into the dark, and the piercing, bone-deep agony eventually melted away.

When I woke up again, I was floating mid-air.

I easily drifted right through the solid bedroom door. That was wonderful. Mom and Dad had finally let me out.

I sat down politely at the dining table. I promised myself I would apologize to them and explain everything properly the moment they returned.

I didn't know how much time had passed before the front door clicked open. Mom and Dad walked in holding a pink Hello Kitty cake.

It smelled amazing. I couldn't help but swallow hard.

Usually, I only ever got to taste cake on Noah's birthday. I didn't expect that getting cancer meant I would get my very own cake today.

Mom stared impatiently at my closed bedroom door.

"Maite! Come out and eat your cake!"

"You are lucky your little stunt didn't scare your brother into a worse sickness. Otherwise, you would be getting the belt."

I looked at them in complete bewilderment.

"Mom, Dad, I am right in front of you. I am sitting right here on the chair."

I stood up and walked over, wanting to hug them, but my arms passed straight through their bodies.

They kept staring at the door. Ten seconds later, Mom banged her fist against the wood.

"Throwing a tantrum and giving us the silent treatment now? I didn't even punish you for putting your brother in the hospital, and you dare throw a fit?!"

I was completely stunned. I phased back and forth around them, shouting directly into their ears.

"Mom! Dad! I am right here! I am not throwing a tantrum!"

But neither of them reacted. Dad took my beautiful cake and dumped it straight into the garbage can.

"This is what happens when you spoil her too much. Let this be a lesson. Starving for three days won't kill her."

A horrifying realization dawned on me. I drifted back through my bedroom door.

A shriveled, grotesque figure was curled up tightly against the base of the door. Deep, bloody scratch marks from my fingernails scarred the wood.

I looked so ugly. No wonder Mom and Dad never liked me.

I was already dead.

I couldn't quite describe the feeling in my chest. Was I sad? I didn't actually feel that heartbroken.

It was just a shame. I thought I was going to get three months of love and care, but I didn't even get a single day.

But maybe this was for the best. At least now I could stay by my parents' side forever without worrying about being a burden.

Mom noticed the torn diagnosis paper in the trash, now smeared with frosting. Frowning, she pinched it with two fingers and picked it up.

"Honey, this medical report actually looks real..."

Dad glanced at it and scoffed loudly.

"Susan, you work at a hospital. How can you fall for this?"

"AI is incredibly advanced these days. It can easily fake a document like this. Watch, I will ask her right now."

He marched up to my bedroom door and delivered a few heavy kicks.

"You forged this, didn't you? Tell the truth, and I will let you eat tomorrow."

Floating in the air, fighting the stinging sensation in my ghostly eyes, I shook my head over and over again.

Dad, I didn't forge it. That is a real paper from a real doctor.

The only response he got was the dramatic groaning coming from Noah's bedroom.

"See? She is too scared to answer. That means she admits it."

"I can't believe this little brat learned to be a pathological liar at such a young age. If only she was half as sensible as her brother."

I wasn't scared to answer. I simply couldn't. I rushed back into the room and tightly hugged my stiff, decaying corpse.

It was so cold.

Maybe it was because I had never once ignored my parents in my entire life. After tending to Noah for a while, they returned to my door.

"Maite, it is time to log your physical condition for the trial. Stop playing dead!"

I am not playing dead, Mom. I am actually dead.

Dad took a deep, angry breath.

"You are really pushing your luck."

I watched him march out toward the balcony where the cat bed was. A dreadful premonition seized my heart.

"Dad, no, please..."

The tall man roughly grabbed Snowball out of the little cardboard house I had built for her. He carried the struggling cat straight to my door.

"If you don't make a sound right now, I am going to teach your cat a lesson!"

I lunged forward, desperately trying to snatch my kitten back. Snowball was the only one in this house who ever listened to me.

But my ghostly hands passed right through her fur.

Dad! I am talking! Please put Snowball down!

I don't have cancer! I was lying! I made it all up!

Mom was growing impatient. She pinched the back of Snowball's neck hard.

The usually gentle kitten puffed up instantly, letting out a series of frantic, bloodcurdling screeches.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could. Souls couldn't shed tears, so I could only tremble violently. I screamed until my invisible throat felt like it was tearing apart.

"No!"

But it was utterly useless. Seeing the cat scratching so fiercely, Dad lost his temper and hurled it away.

But he had forgotten that my bedroom door opened right next to the balcony.

My mind went entirely blank. A heavy thud echoed from the street below.

Mom tried to reach out and stop him, but it was too late. Seeing the neighbors gathering downstairs, she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Someone is definitely going to ask us how the cat died. We can't let this ruin our family's reputation."

"We will just say Maite accidentally dropped it. We will make her go down and apologize."

The moment the words left her mouth, Dad snapped out of his shock. He grabbed my doorknob and rattled it furiously.

"This is all your fault for throwing a tantrum! You got your own cat killed! You brought this upon yourself!"

Staring down at Snowball's lifeless body, I was so numb I couldn't even form a thought. But heaven seemed to take pity on me.

Snowball's little soul floated up and rubbed against my leg. Only then did I pull myself together enough to keep my spirit from completely shattering.

Her fluffy ghostly fur felt exactly the same. I carried her back into the apartment.

Were Mom and Dad finally going to check on me? What would their reaction be?

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Dad's phone suddenly blared. It was a police officer on the other end of the line.

"We caught Marcus! Are you coming down to the station to press charges?"

Hearing that name, my sorrow was instantly swallowed by sheer terror.

That man hiding in the alley had asked me for directions to the bus stop. When I wasn't looking, he dragged me into the shadows. He pinned me against the cold brick wall, his filthy hands grabbing at my clothes, whispering the most sickening, terrifying threats into my ear as I struggled.

When I finally escaped and ran home, I scrubbed my skin in the shower until it bled.

When Mom found out, she took me to the police station that very night to file a report. Since then, she had been walking me to and from school.

But predators were hard to catch. It took them until today to finally arrest him.

Dad and Mom exchanged a loaded look, before a look of absolute resolve settled over their faces.

"Did you know? That boy's wealthy father tracked me down. He said he would give us fifty thousand dollars if we just let this go."

Mom glanced at my tightly shut bedroom door.

"That money could cover Noah's premium meal plan for the whole year. The damage done to Maite cannot be undone anyway. As long as that boy knows he was wrong..."

"Besides, look at the terrible attitude Maite is giving us right now. A little harsh reality might be exactly the lesson she needs."

Holding my kitten, I sat in the backseat of their car as they drove to the police station. The face that haunted my darkest nightmares was sitting in the lobby, casually crossing his legs.

He looked at my parents with absolute disdain. His overweight father grabbed my dad's hand warmly.

"My good friend, let's step outside and have a little chat."

I listened to my dad eagerly agreeing to the fifty-thousand-dollar hush money. Every syllable sounded exactly like the sound of my heart shattering into pieces.

The monster swaggered out of the police station a free man. I wanted to lunge at him, tear his flesh, and drink his blood.

But my own parents had just sold me out. I could never get my justice now.

The car ride back was suffocatingly silent. What were they thinking about?

"Robert, I still feel like taking this money is wrong..."

Dad's grip on the steering wheel tightened, as if he was terrified he might change his mind.

"I know you are worried it will break Maite's heart. So we just won't tell her."

"Maite has been perfectly healthy her whole life. Noah is so sickly it breaks my heart. Let's just consider this the ultimate sacrifice Maite is making for her little brother."

"When we get home, we will let her out and take her somewhere fun to relax. We won't make her do the drug trial anymore."

Sitting in the backseat, my soul was reduced to ashes.

Dad, you don't have to bother. I am already dead. I can't go anywhere fun.

Mom's phone suddenly rang. It was my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Bennett.

"Mrs. Bennett, how can I help you? We already called in sick for Maite for the past few days."

"I know this must be an incredibly agonizing time for you as parents. But you have to stay strong and not show your despair in front of the child..."

Mom cut her off, thoroughly confused.

"Mrs. Bennett, what do you mean? Agonizing time?"

"Wait. Didn't Maite show you her cancer diagnosis? Haven't you been taking her to the hospital for tests these past few days?"