I Died Buying Your Cure

A hundred million dollars or your dads smilewhich would you choose?

It was after school at the preschool. A local reporter was standing near the gate, interviewing the kids.

I chose the hundred million dollars. My twin brother, Mason, chose Dad's smile.

Dad, who had just stepped out of the car, overheard my answer. He flew into a rage, stormed over, and slapped me hard across the face.

"You're both my flesh and blood, but your brother actually cares about me. Where is your heart, Toby? Did you leave it in the gutter?"

"If Id known youd turn out to be such an ungrateful, money-hungry brat, I would have never had you!"

I stood there, clutching my burning, swollen cheek, tears streaming down my face as I tried to explain. "Dad is always sick and taking medicine. I wanted the money so I could cure you."

But Dad was convinced I was just making excuses. As we drove past a massive billboarda wealthy family offering a million-dollar reward for their missing childhe slammed on the brakes, dragged me out of the passenger seat, and pointed at the address.

"You love money so much? Go find those rich people. See if they'll take you in. Don't you dare come back home!"

Mom tried to plead with him, telling him not to let his anger get the better of him, but he just sneered. "I'm teaching him a lesson. If he cares about me as his father, he'll run after the car."

I scrambled up from the gravel, but before I could take a step, a hand clamped tightly over my mouth. A strange woman had appeared from the shadows. Muttering words like "fresh cargo" and "easy payday," she shoved me into the dark trunk of her sedan.

Through the crack before the heavy lid slammed shut, I watched Dad take Mason's hand and walk away.

The trunk was pitch-black and stifling hot. The air grew thick, and soon, my lungs couldn't draw in enough breath. Then, slowly, my body felt weightless, floating up and away from the metal cage.

Dad, I'm sorry. I was wrong.

But the car kept driving, further and further, to a place from which I could never return.

The car jolted down the highway, my small, lifeless body curled up in the back. But my spirit remained, watching. I remembered how my hands had trembled as I clutched my toy smartwatch, desperately typing out messages to Dad.

Dad, Mrs. Kelly said money can buy anything in the world. I wanted the hundred million to buy your health back.

I'm sorry, Dad. It's so dark here. I'm so scared.

But the little loading wheel just spun and spun. No signal. Instead, the rustling caught the attention of the woman in the back seat. She popped the trunk, ripped the watch off my wrist, and tied it to the collar of a stray dog barking near the curb. Then she threw a heavy canvas sack over me, growling at me to shut up.

The trunk slammed shut again. Darkness. No light, no breeze, just suffocating heat. My chest tightened, my breaths growing shallower and weaker until they stopped altogether.

When I opened my eyes again, I was weightless. I didn't feel the heat or the pain anymore. My first thought was to find my parents. I drifted back toward the school and found their sedan parked three blocks away.

He did forgive me! He's waiting for me!

Warmth flooded through me. I floated toward the window, ready to lean into his arms, but then I saw Dad hurl his phone into Mom's lap.

"Look at this! His watch tracker is moving further and further away into the wealthy suburbs, and here we are, sitting like idiots waiting for him. He's probably glad to be rid of us!"

Panic seized me. No, Dad! I didn't leave! The bad lady threw my watch on a dog! But my voice was nothing but a sigh of wind against the glass.

Mom frowned, her fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. "Let's give him a little more time. Toby is usually so good. Maybe he just got distracted playing."

Dad sneered as he gently peeled a grape for Mason. "Weve been sitting here for forty-seven minutes. Mason's stomach has growled three times. I'll give him thirty more seconds. If he isn't here by then, I don't have a son."

He set a timer on his phone. The numbers ticked down mercilessly to zero. The rearview mirror remained empty. Furious, Dad buckled Mason's seatbelt.

"We're going home! I see him clearly now. Barely five years old and already obsessed with money. A heartless, ungrateful child."

Even Mom, who had been defending me, looked defeated. "We've only been struggling with your medical bills for the last couple of years. We never let him go hungry. I can't believe he'd turn his back on us..."

Dad slammed his foot on the gas. I flew alongside the window, screaming my explanations, following them all the way to our driveway. As the sky bruised into twilight, my panic spiked. Night was falling, and Dad's pain was about to start.

The moment we crossed the threshold, Dad locked himself in his room. Through the door, I could see his neck erupting in angry red hives. He clawed at his skin, his voice cracking with tears.

"If it weren't for those two boys, I wouldn't have contracted this miserable skin condition. It claws at me every night. I can't sleep, I'm constantly running to the clinic, it ruined my career, and now it's dragging this whole family down."

Mom let out a long, heavy sigh. "Honey, please hold on. Once my quarterly bonus comes in, I'll take you to the specialist hospital downtown for the treatment."

Mason crept to the door and slid a crayon drawing under the crack. "Don't cry, Daddy. Look, I drew a family portrait. In my heart and Toby's heart, you're the best-looking dad ever."

Dad glanced at it, then coldly tore my figure out of the drawing. "Don't mention that ungrateful boy in this house!"

"I suffer in silence every single day. He is the reason I got sick in the first place, and yet he's the one who turns up his nose at our empty pockets? If he doesn't want to come back, then he can stay gone forever!"

I waved my arms frantically. Dad, I'm right here! I'm staying right here beside you!

But Dad was too far gone. He threw open the door, determined to purge every trace of me from the apartment. Mom tried to hold him back. "Stop it, Daniel! He'll be devastated when he comes back and sees this."

Blind with rage, Dad wouldn't listen. He stormed into my tiny bedroom, grabbing my clothes and backpack, hurling them onto the floor. As the backpack hit the linoleum, a small notebook slipped out.

In it, in my clumsy, childish handwriting, was a list:

Bubble machine: $2.00

Action figure: $5.00

Backpack keychain: 0-0.00

The silver bracelet from Dad: $57.00

Dad's lips turned pale, his fingers trembling as he picked it up. "I knew those toys were disappearing for a reason! Toby sold them behind our backs! The toys are one thing, but that bracelet was his birthday present! He threw away my gift for cash. What a beautiful son we raised!" He spat the words out like venom.

I hung my head, my ghostly fingers touching my bare wrist. I loved those toys, Dad. And I loved that bracelet more than anything. But I needed the money to ask my teacher to order that special soothing cream for you. The one that would let you sleep peacefully at night.

Mom picked up the notebook, her eyes clouding with confusion. "Why would a five-year-old need all this cash?"

Dad let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Why else? He never spent it here, so he must have hoarded it. You didn't see the greedy look on his face during that interview when he chose the hundred million without a second thought. For all we know, he's probably cozying up to some wealthy folks right now."

With that, Dad scooped up the last remnants of my presence and shoved them into the trash bin, retreating back into his room. Looking at the chaotic living room, a cold ache bloomed in my chest. Dad, you really got it all wrong.

No one slept that night. The silence in the apartment was heavy, suffocating. Dad lay in bed, endlessly scrolling through his phone. I floated beside him and froze when I saw the picture on his screen. It was the rusty silver sedan the strange woman drove.

The headline read: Police dismantle child abduction ring near local preschools; body of young boy discovered in vehicle trunk...

I pointed at the screen, a childish spark of hope lighting up my spectral heart. Mom, that's me! I'm in that car! Please come and bring me home.

In the other room, Mom suddenly sat up. The rustle of her throwing on her coat woke Dad. "Where are you going at this hour?"

"I'm going to find Toby," she said, her voice tight with a sudden, clawing panic. "The news says kidnappers have been operating around the school. He's only five, Daniel. What if something happened to him?"

Dad didn't even look up from his phone. "Stay right where you are. Even a dog wouldn't run away because its owner is poor. A greedy brat like him isn't worth the effort."

"He's our son, Daniel!" Moms voice cracked. "How can we leave him out there in the dark?" Her words reignited the embers of his rage.

Dad shoved his screen in her face, pointing at the tracking app. "Open your eyes and look! Your precious son is sitting in the middle of the wealthiest zip code in the city, living the high life. He doesn't need your pity!"

Mom took the phone, her hand shaking as she stared at the glowing blue dot.

The tracker pinned the watch in a lush, gated community. The app's status indicator, synced to my "daily mood" feature, read Elated.

Mom's face crumbled. The panic in her eyes gave way to a cold, crushing disappointment, mixed with a deep, aching guilt. "It's my fault," she whispered. "I couldn't give him the life he wanted."

I sobbed, trying to grab her hands. No! The watch is on a dog! Toby isn't there!

But they were deaf to my cries. Dispirited, Mom walked over to the balcony and sat staring into the dark until the first gray light of dawn broke over the horizon.

"Go to sleep," she said quietly to Dad. "I'll take you for your checkup tomorrow. Once we get your health sorted out, we'll go bring Toby back."

The next morning, Grandpa Sam came over to help watch us. Finding only Mason in the living room, he frowned. "Where's Toby? Why is Mason playing by himself?"

Dad kept his eyes on his coffee, while Mom stammered out a hasty lie. "He... he's spending the weekend at a friend's house."

Mason opened his mouth to say something, but Dad shot him a warning look that silenced him. I missed Grandpa so much. I threw my arms around his waist, but my body passed through him like a cool breeze.

Grandpa sighed, pulling two crumpled tickets to the local amusement park from his pocket. "That's a shame. I was hoping to take both my boys out today. I guess this old man will just have to make two trips."

I stared longingly at the bright yellow tickets. Ever since Dad got sick, Mason and I would watch the other kids go to the carnival while we stayed behind. We used to whisper to each other under the blankets: Let's wish for Dad to get better. Once he's cured, we'll all go together.

I didn't realize Grandpa had overheard our little secret. He had saved up to make our wish come true. But I would never get to sit on the carousel horses with Mason now.

I trailed after them all day, watching the bright smiles on their faces. It wasn't until the park gates closed at nine that Mason finally let Grandpa lead him home.

On their walk back, they passed the local police precinct. Under the dim streetlights, Mason's eyes caught a sliver of faded red fabric poking out from the trunk of a silver sedan parked in the impound lot. His eyes lit up. He tugged hard on Grandpa's sleeve.

"Grandpa, look! That's Toby's shirt!"

It was dark outside the station. Grandpa glanced at the car briefly, but quickly scooped Mason into his arms, hurrying past.

"Don't talk nonsense, buddy," he murmured, patting his back. "Your brother is having fun at his classmate's house. There are too many strange cars out tonight. Let's get you home."

Sunday evening, Mom and Dad returned from the clinic. Before Grandpa left, he slipped the remaining amusement park ticket into Dads palm.

"The doctor will find a cure, Daniel. When things settle down, take some time to be with the boys. Especially Toby. That kid worries about you so much. He kept asking me how much money he could get for recycling plastic bottles, saying he wanted to help pay for your treatments."

A flicker of emotion crossed Dad's face, but he quickly masked it with cold indifference. "Well, I haven't seen a single cent. He's always been good with sweet talk."

Grandpa froze, blinking as if he had misheard.

Dad quickly ushered Grandpa out the door. Inside, Mom was staring at the fresh stack of medical bills, her shoulders slumped in despair. She pinched Mason's cheek, her voice filled with quiet apology.

"Mason, sweetie... I know I promised we'd go to the beach for your birthday next week, but we might have to push it back a bit."

Mason shook his head, offering a bright smile. "It's okay, Mom. Toby and I already got Dad a present anyway."

Mason unzipped his backpack and pulled out a cherry lollipop, holding it out to Dad with both hands. "This is from me. If you eat something sweet, Daddy, your heart will feel sweet too, and you'll smile more."

Dad managed a soft smile, ruffling Mason's hair. "Thank you, buddy. I love it. But as for your brother... let's not make any more excuses for him."

Mason opened his mouth to protest, but Dad waved him off dismissively. "Go on, it's past your bedtime. School starts early tomorrow. And let's not talk about him anymore."

The next morning, Dad dropped Mason off at preschool. As he turned to leave, Mason's teacher, Mrs. Kelly, called out to him.

"Excuse me, Daniel. I have something for you. I was supposed to give it to you on Friday, but things got so hectic with the class that it slipped my mind."

She reached into her bag and placed a small, premium tube of imported medicated cream into his hand.

Dad stared at it, bewildered. "Mrs. Kelly, what is this?"

She smiled warmly. "Toby asked me to import this for him using his allowance. He talked about it every day, saying his daddy was in pain and he wanted to make him better. You're incredibly lucky to have such a thoughtful little boy, Daniel."

Dad's eyes scanned the price tag on the packaging. He gasped, his voice cracking. "One hundred and twenty dollars? Where on earth did he get this kind of money?"

Mrs. Kelly reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a small notebookidentical to the one Dad had thrown in the trash.

"He sold his favorite toys to his classmates. He also helped us tidy up the classroom after school, and we'd give him a few dollars here and there as a reward. Please don't feel bad about accepting it, Daniel. This cream was bought with his hard work, driven entirely by his love for you..."

Mrs. Kelly's voice faded into a dull hum in Dad's ears. He flipped through the little pages of the notebook. Sweeping the floor. Arranging the cots. Selling my toy robot... Every cent had been accounted for.

His hands shook so violently he could barely hold the paper. He stumbled out of the school lobby, frantically dialing Mom's number.

"We're going to get Toby," he choked out, tears finally spilling over. "Right now."

Their sedan tore through the streets, following the GPS tracker deep into the affluent suburbs. Dad slammed the brakes in front of a sprawling brick estate. His eyes were glued to the blue dot on his screen.

"This is it!" He bolted out of the car, pounding on the heavy oak door. "Toby! It's Dad! I'm sorry, Toby! I've come to take you home!"

The door swung open to reveal a young couple looking thoroughly confused. In the woman's arms was a scruffy, rescued stray dog.

"Can we help you?" she asked.

Dads eyes dropped to the dog's front paw, where a familiar blue smartwatch was loosely strapped. His face went entirely bloodless.

"My... my son's watch... why is it on your dog?"

Before either of them could speak, Mom's phone rang in her pocket. She answered it, her face freezing into a mask of pure terror.

"Hello? Yes, this is the Medical Examiner's Office. Are we speaking with the parents of Toby Vance? We apprehended a trafficking ring over the weekend, and... we have recovered the body of a young boy who fits your son's description. We need you to come down immediately to identify him..."