Buried By The Ones I Loved

For six years, I hauled the dead out of city basements and off hot asphalt. I worked the night shift for a body removal service, letting the stench of decay settle so deep into my pores that no amount of bleach could scrub it away. I did it for one reason: to pay for my sisters leukemia treatments.

Today, I finally had the last of the money. But as I stood in the hospital hallway, my sister, Hedy, looked at me with a chilling nonchalance. She didn't need the surgery, she said.

She wasn't sick. Our parents weren't dead. The car accident six years ago? Shed orchestrated the whole thing. I was the only one who actually bled that day, the only one left permanently mangled while they watched from the sidelines.

Then came the second blow. My wife, Isla, stepped forward. She wasn't bankrupt, and those late nights at the "office" weren't for overtime. Shed been retreating to her private estate because she couldn't stand the sight of our cramped, moldy basement apartmentor me.

"We were going to keep the game going for another three years," Isla said, waving a hand in front of her nose as if I were a piece of rotting meat. "But the smell of the morgue on you... its nauseating. Neither of us can take it anymore."

I stood there, my hand frozen over the check meant for her life-saving surgery. A wave of pure, concentrated absurdity washed over me, so cold it burned.

Hedy snatched the check from my numb fingers and tossed it into a nearby trash can. "Theres no money left in your accounts anyway, Wayne. Ive been rerouting your 'death money' to the homeless for years. Think of it as karma for your dead child. You earn a living off the deadits bad luck. We wouldn't touch a cent of it."

My blood turned to ice. I didn't understand. I couldn't wrap my head around the why.

Then my parents appeared.

They stood at the end of the hall, huddled together as if I were a leper. My father spoke first, his voice hard. "It was the only way, Wayne. You were a spoiled brat, always picking on Landon. We had to break you. We had to make you humble."

My mother nodded, her eyes devoid of warmth. "If you swear to never lay a finger on Landon again, you can be our son. Otherwise, were done."

As the world blurred and my heart gave its final, jagged beat of hope, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. It was the System, sounding almost... pitying.

Do you wish to abandon the mission? Do you wish to leave this world behind?

...

"Take me out."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. The pain was the only thing keeping me upright.

[Confirmed. Departure in T-minus twenty-four hours.]

Isla, seeing my silence, reached out to brush a tear from my eye. Her touch felt like a centipede crawling on my skin.

"Do you finally get it? If you hadn't fought Landon for our parents' love, if you hadn't tried to hurt him over and over, we could have been a happy family of three."

I shoved her hand away, a raw, guttural scream tearing from my throat. "You don't get to talk about a 'family of three'! Landon cut the brake lines! My son died because of him!"

Islas expression remained terrifyingly placid. "The baby didn't die, Wayne. I gave him to Landon the second he was born. Stop blaming him for your delusions."

The air left my lungs. It took seconds for my brain to process the words. "You... what did you say?"

Isla looked at me as if I were a slow child. "Hes my heir. You didn't honestly think Id let him grow up in a basement with a man who hauls corpses? Landon is kind. Our son is better off with him."

I stood paralyzed. The cold was absolute now.

Six years ago, I woke up from that crash with a shattered body and a broken spirit. Isla had been there, eyes red, telling me it was my fault we were out that night. She told me the baby was stillborn, that our parents were gone.

Hedy had played the grieving sister, drowning her "sorrow" in booze until she "developed" cancer.

The System had asked me then if I wanted to leave. The missionto gain their lovewas technically a failure. But I stayed. I dragged my broken body to the darkest jobs in the city, enduring the stares and the smell, all to save a sister who wasn't dying and support a wife who was secretly laughing at me.

It was all a joke.

My chest ached so hard I thought my ribs might snap. "Why?" I whispered, tears leaking out. "Why not just lie to me until the day I died?"

"Because Landon wants a daughter now," Hedy said, her voice dripping with a terrifying maternal fondness for a man who wasn't her brother. "The procedure for him is too invasive. He shouldn't have to suffer. So, we need you one last time."

I stared at them, my vision swimming. They weren't people. They were monsters wearing the faces of those I loved.

"Landon has suffered enough, Wayne. We just want to give him what he wants. Be a good boy. We can always have more children later." Isla ruffled my hair, the gesture so patronizing it made me want to retch. "And this is your chance to prove to Mom and Dad that youve changed. Show them you won't bully Landon anymore."

Landon had suffered?

I thought of the dark closet in my foster home. I thought of the red-hot fire poker the woman used on me while she screamed that her sonthe real Landonwas living my high-society life while I rotted.

I yanked up my sleeves, exposing the jagged, silver scars that mapped my forearms. "Who suffered? You told me youd make them pay! You said youd never let me be hurt again"

"Wayne, stop lying!" Hedy snapped, slapping my arm away.

I was malnourished and weak; the force sent me stumbling back until my hip collided with the sharp edge of a table.

"Landons birth mother said no one ever laid a finger on you," Hedy sneered. "Those scars? You got those fighting in alleys with delinquents when you were a teenager. You were always a rebel."

My parents scoffed in the background. "Nature over nurture," my father muttered. "We didn't raise him, and it shows. Hes a born liar. Hes not fit to be a father."

I stared at them, the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. "Im not fit? But the son of a human trafficker is a saint?"

"Shut up!" Hedys eyes turned predatory. "How dare you? If Landon heard that, hed be devastated."

She lunged forward, grabbing my arm with a grip like a vice. "Clearly, these six years haven't taught you enough."

She forced my head down, her strength surprising me, and shoved me toward a large wooden shipping crate in the corner of the room.

The moment the lid slammed shut, my breath died.

Four years ago, while on a job, a grieving family had played a sick prank. Theyd locked me in a casket with a fresh cadaver for three days. I had spent seventy-two hours nose-to-nose with the scent of rotting meat and silence. Id developed a paralyzing, screaming case of claustrophobia that day.

"Let me out! Please! Im sorry! Help me!"

I clawed at the wood, my words dissolving into frantic whimpers. I scraped my fingers against the seams until all ten of my fingernails were torn to the quick, the wood slick with my blood.

Finally, the latch clicked. The lid opened.

I spilled out, sobbing, clutching at Hedys ankles. "Please, don't put me back. Ill die, Ill die"

Hedy retracted her foot as if I were a stray dog. "Stop the drama, Wayne. Its pathetic."

She looked down at me, her expression bored. "Every client you worked for these last few years? I hand-picked them. I told them to be tough on you to build your character. Nobody actually hurt you."

The room tilted. "You... you arranged them?"

Memories flashed:

"Kneel. Crawl between my legs and bark like a dog, or you don't get paid."

"Drink these ten shots of rotgut, and I might give you an extra hundred."

The insults. The bottles smashed over my head. The most degrading moments of my lifeall choreographed by my sister.

"So what?" Hedy said. "I wanted you to learn empathy. To walk a mile in someone elses shoes. Without my 'training,' you wouldn't be ready to come home."

Isla stepped forward, her voice like silk. "Tonight, Landon is hosting a charity gala. Youre coming. We need you there so the world finally stops whispering that Landon is the son of a kidnapper. If they see you two together, the rumors die."

She looked at me with a spark of something that might have been pity, if she were human. "You always wanted a real wedding, didn't you, Wayne? Give Landon a daughter, and Ill give you a wedding that will be the talk of the Hamptons."

It was the same promise shed made me under the moonlight years ago. Now, it was just the bait on a hook.

A neon countdown flickered in my peripheral vision: [12 hours remaining.]

I lowered my head, burying the white-hot rage deep in my gut. When I looked up, the brokenness was gone, replaced by a hollow, terrifying calm. "Fine. Ill go."

The gala was a sea of black ties and silk. The second I stepped in, the press swarmed.

"Mr. Callahan, youve been underground for years. Whats the status of the 'True Heir' vs. 'The Imposter'? Have you made peace?"

My mother shoved a piece of paper into my hand, whispering harshly, "Read it. Word for word."

I looked down.

[I was never kidnapped. I was a rebellious child who ran away. Landons mother was a saint who took me in. Ive spent these years in seclusion, reflecting on my cruelty toward Landon. I am the one who is unworthy.]

"Read it," my father hissed.

"Peace?" I whispered. My hands tightened on the paper. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I ripped it into shreds and let them fall like snow.

"Why would I make peace with the son of the woman who tortured me?"

The room went dead silent. The flashbulbs stopped.

I locked eyes with Landon, who was standing center-stage, looking like the golden boy they all thought he was. "Why don't you tell them, Landon? You stole my name for twenty years. Now youve stolen my wife and my son. Is there anything left of mine you don't want?"

Gasps rippled through the hall. Landon didn't even flinch.

He waited exactly one second, then his eyes welled with tears. He looked like the victim of a grand tragedy. "Wayne... why do you keep doing this to me?"

He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a small, navy-blue book.

"I am Islas legal husband," he said, his voice trembling. "Youre the one whos been the interloper."

My brain shrieked. I lunged forward, snatching the marriage license. There it was, in elegant calligraphy: Isla Sterling and Landon Callahan.

The reason she never showed me our certificate. The "safe deposit box" lie.

The blood drained from my face. I turned to Isla.

"Names don't matter, Wayne," she said, her voice loud enough for the room to hear. "I loved you in my own way, but Landon needed a legacy. You stole his birthright; we just gave him back a life in this city."

Hedy stepped up, her face a mask of disappointment. "Im sorry, everyone. My brother has struggled with his mental health for years. Delusions of grandeur. Please, ignore him."

The pity in the room turned to disgust.

"Hes a psycho," someone whispered. "Imagine trying to ruin a man like Landon."

"You're a bad man! Stop hurting my daddy!"

A small boy, no older than five, burst from the crowd. He charged at me, headbutting me with enough force to send me sprawling to the marble floor.

One look at his eyes, and I knew. He was mine. My son.

I reached out, my hands shaking, wanting to hold him just once. Hedy stepped between us, her heel narrowly missing my fingers. She leaned down, whispering in my ear.

"Hes Landons now, Wayne. And if you try to take him, Ill show him the video."

My voice was a thready rasp. "But hes my son."

She pulled out her phone and hit play.

The screen blurred, but I recognized the alleyway. It was three years ago, a night Id tried to come home early from the morgue. A group of men had dragged me into the shadows. Id screamed for Hedy, hoping shed come for me.

The video showed the nightmare. My dignity being shredded in the dirt.

A sob broke out of me, a spray of blood hitting the floor. "You knew... you knew they actually did it? It wasn't just 'acting'!"

"Stop it," Hedy said, her voice cold. "I hired those men to scare you. They wouldn't have actually touched a Callahan. You're just making up stories to make us feel guilty so well get rid of Landon. I don't know why you hate him so much."

My heart hammered against my ribs. Who hated whom?

The System countdown flashed: [5 hours.]

There was no point in arguing. The exit was close.

Suddenly, a fist slammed into my jaw. Then another.

"Home-wrecker!" someone yelled.

It started with one man, then a surge. Men whose wives had cheated, people looking for a scapegoat, all fueled by the "delusional psycho" narrative Hedy had spun.

I curled into a ball as the kicks rained down. My lip split. My ribs cracked.

Hedys face flickered with a brief moment of alarm. She started to move toward me, but Landon suddenly gasped, clutching his chest. "Hedy... too many people... I can't breathe..."

The tide turned instantly.

"Oh honey, don't look," my mother cried, rushing to Landon. "Isla, help him!"

Isla glanced at me, then at the trembling Landon. She hesitated for a heartbeat. "Wayne, theyre just venting. Youll be fine."

She turned her back on me to follow Landon.

Hedy lingered for a second, then scooped Landon up in her arms and walked away.

The crowd closed in.

"Scum! Did you sleep with my wife too? Lets see how pretty you are after this!"

A heavy boot landed between my legs, a sickening crunch echoing in my ears. I felt a hot, wet explosion of pain. Blood began to pool under me, staining the white marble.

I vomited blood, my vision fading into a hazy grey.

By the time I crawled back to the "family" estate, my parents were fussing over Landon on the sofa. When they saw me, their faces soured.

"Are you still doing this?" my father sighed. "Looking like a mess just to get attention?"

Islas eyes were full of irritation. "Don't look at us like that. If you hadn't tried to embarrass Landon, he wouldn't have had to go public with the marriage. Hes always thinking of you, Wayne. Be a man and apologize."

Every step I took felt like treading on broken glass. My internal organs were a symphony of agony. I didn't have the breath to fight her.

Landon reached out, grabbing my hand, his grip surprisingly strong. "Wayne, look at you. You're a mess."

He leaned in, his voice a whisper only I could hear. "Im bored with your son. Give me a daughter. I need something new to play with. If Im in a good mood, I might give the boy back before I break him."

Something snapped. The last tether of my sanity ignited. I swung my fist at his smug, beautiful face.

SLAP!

My head whipped to the side. The taste of iron filled my mouth.

Hedy stood over me, her eyes like chips of ice. "Have you no shame? Attacking him right in front of us? When will you stop being so selfish?"

"Don't hurt my daddy!"

My sonTobylunged forward. He was holding a silver appetizer fork. He slammed it into my abdomen.

He didn't expect it to actually go in. His face went pale as the silver tines disappeared into my sweater. But he held his ground, glaring at me with Landons taught hatred.

The world went dark for a second. The pain in my stomach was nothing compared to the hole in my chest.

"You protect him because you think he's your father," I wheezed. "But Toby... what if I told you that Im"

"Shut up!"

My father threw his crystal whiskey glass. It shattered against my temple, blood instantly blinding my left eye. "Don't you dare fill the boy's head with your lies!"

Toby sneered, his voice high and cruel. "You? My dad? Youre a body-hauler. You smell like death. If you were my dad, Id rather be dead."

Hedy pulled out her phone, the screen showing the video of my assault in the alley.

"Apologize, Wayne. Record a video recanting everything. Or Ill post this on every social media platform in the world. Youll be a joke forever."

I started to laugh. It was a wet, ragged sound that turned into a cough of blood.

"Don't bother threatening me anymore, Hedy. Ill do it for you."

I took the phone. My thumb hovered over the screen. Send to all.

Hedy froze, confused. Before she could react, I turned and scrambled onto the windowsill of the sixteenth-floor study.

Behind me, the room finally erupted in panic.

"Wayne, what are you doing?" my mother screamed. "Get down! This isn't funny!"

Islas face was white. "We won't give the daughter away, Wayne! Well keep her! Just... don't do this!"

I smiled, shaking my head. There won't be a daughter.

Hedy, ever the cynic, crossed her arms. "Hes bluffing. He wants us to beg. He knows we care, so hes using suicide to manipulate us."

She took a step forward. "Get down, Wayne. No matter how much you scream, you're apologizing to Landon today."

The cold night air rushed in, whipping my hair.

The Systems voice chimed in my skull.

[Host, time is up. You may leave.]

I looked at the four people who had systematically dismantled my life and gave them a hollow, empty smile.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this. But if my child and six years of my life weren't enough to pay my 'debt' to Landon, then maybe my life will cover the rest."

As they lunged toward me, faces twisted in sudden, genuine horror, I let go.

I leaned back into the dark.