Fragile as Breath

I barely had time to process the tearing pain. My broken arm hung uselessly at my side, swaying slightly.

Meanwhile, Anthony bent downward, picked up the scattered bills, and curled his lips into a strange, unreadable smile.

"So that's where it went," he said lightly, almost casually. "I was wondering how those few hundred bucks disappeared."

He looked up at our parents, as if silently asking for their agreement. "I didn't expect it was you who took it."

The air instantly turned icy.

Their expressions hardened. Their brows furrowed as their eyes moved back and forth between me and the money on the ground, a trace of undisguised disgust slipping through. Even when the doctor rushed over, my father instinctively raised a hand and stopped him at the door.

My heart started pounding wildly.

Under that suffocating pressure, it felt like my mouth had been glued shut. I could not speak. My mind was a complete mess.

Then, I caught sight of the driver, who had just stepped out of the car after turning off the engine. It felt like grabbing onto a lifeline.

I pointed at him and burst into tears. "He knows! I didn't steal the money!"

Everyone turned to look at the driver at once, startling him.

When he saw me collapsed on the ground, he quickly explained what had happened on the road. "Mr. Snyder, the dashcam recorded everything. You can check it if you want."

My father said nothing. He only gave Anthony a meaningful glance, then turned and walked away.

My mother did not say much, either. She simply patted Anthony on the shoulder and gestured for him to help me with my luggage, as if the whole situation had just been brushed aside.

I was still replaying everything in my head, wondering what I had done wrong today, when Anthony suddenly pushed open the largest master bedroom.

"Liam, this one's yours.

"I didn't expect your health to be this bad. Honestly, you don't look like you'll live very long. I'm really sorry for how I treated you earlier."

He looked friendly, almost warm. Before I could even react, he shoved me and my luggage into the room.

I stared at the piles of figurines and toys stacked everywhere, then at the eager look on his face.

The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. In the end, I swallowed them and answered timidly, "Thank you."

I had not even finished unpacking when the door was suddenly kicked open.

A woman who looked about 70 percent like me stormed in, her face full of anger.

"You're the one who took Anthony's room?"

Her gaze swept across the room before locking onto the boxes filled with figurines. She pointed at me and shouted, "You threw away Anthony's favorite toys?"

I knew immediately who she was: my biological sister, Yessenia Snyder.

Watching her stride in on sharp high heels, bursting through the door like that, I froze on the spot. I was so stunned I forgot to explain that my skin was sensitive, that I had a rare condition, and that I was allergic to rubber.

When I did not respond, Yessenia's anger only grew. She shoved me hard.

"I'm on Anthony's side. So, you better behave."

Anthony peeked out from behind her, looking smug.

I collapsed onto the floor, finally snapping back to my senses.

Looking at my sister's blazing eyes, mine turned red. "Sis, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."

I struggled to my feet, enduring the unbearable itch crawling across my skin, and began putting every rubber figurine back where it belonged.

In the end, my throat was so swollen I could barely breathe, and my face turned a sickly blue before I collapsed onto the ground again.

Yessenia watched me gasp for air while still trying to clean up. She seemed a little taken aback.

Seeing my ashen face, her expression stiffened slightly. "Alright, alright. As long as you know you're in the wrong. Just be more careful next time. Don't bully Anthony again."

She was about to leave when Anthony suddenly cried out.

"Wait, sis, look at this!"

Like a magic trick, he pulled out a jersey signed by his favorite basketball star.

"Look. The birthday gift you gave me this year. It's stained with Liam's blood.

"This is my favorite player's autograph. I don't even usually wear it."

However, I had never even seen that jersey before. Aside from the figurines and toys, I had not touched anything else in the room.

Yessenia did not listen to a single word of my explanation. Instead, she gently ruffled Anthony's hair before turning back to me, her expression changing in an instant.

Her grip was firm as she seized my hair and dragged me all the way to the laundry room. She threw me in front of the sink, tossed the dirty clothes at me, and said through gritted teeth, "Wash them clean."

…

"B…but…" I stammered, glancing at the muscles bulging along her arm.