My Blood Buried Her Lies

After I refused to help my childhood friend use connections to get a backdoor promotion, he stormed off in his car to cool downand got hit by a semi.

When my wife found out, she beat me bloody. Depression swallowed her whole, and then came the cancer diagnosis.

Guilt drove me to quit my job. I went home to care for her, let her humiliate me, hit me, even let my dead friend's buddies take their revenge.

To pay for her treatment, I sold the apartment. Then the car. Still not enough.

My mom picked up three jobs to help. Worked herself to the bone, day and night, until she collapsed right at our front door.

She died with the money still clenched in her fist. Her last words? Use this for your wife's treatment.

I shattered. Wanted to follow her. But the debts weren't paid, so I couldn't die yet.

Then one night, working a temp shift at a bar, I saw them.

My childhood friendwho was supposed to be deadholding my wifewho was supposed to be dyingpartying like nothing was wrong.

"That idiot Julian is probably still losing sleep over his guilt!"

"Isabel, you geniusfaking my death, faking your cancer, watching him crawl from executive to day laborer."

"Mmm, you helped me get my revenge... I feel so bad for my Julian now. Maybe it's time to stop."

"I don't want to abuse my Julian anymore."

The tray slipped from my hands. Blood surged up my throat, and I couldn't hold it backI spat it onto the floor.

The wine glasses shattered against the man beside me.

Jacob Delgado's friend.

"You again, you piece of shit." Henry Fox's face twisted with disgust. "Getting my friend killed wasn't enough? Now you're after the rest of us?"

He grabbed a liquor bottle and smashed it over my head without hesitation.

"Jacob wasn't as clever as you," he spat. "He thought your connections could help him, but you refused. Even used him as a cautionary taletold everyone about it. Made him a laughingstock."

"He drove off angry. Wasn't watching the road. Got hit and died in the street."

"His soul is still out there waiting for you, murderer. When are you going down to keep him company?!"

The music cut out. Laughter died. Everyone stared.

Blood dripped from my split forehead, soaking my shirt. I looked like a wreck.

But I barely noticed the wound. My legs gave out.

A few days agothe day my mom diedI found out I had stomach cancer. Late-stage.

To pay for Isabel Harding's treatment, I couldn't bring myself to buy even one bottle of medicine for myself. Saved every penny for her.

And now reality laughed in my face: she was never sick. My friend was never dead.

The ones who died were my mom. And me.

If they hadn't lied, I never would've quit. Never would've walked away from a six-figure career to wait hand and foot on a woman who made cruelty an art form.

"Get up and apologize. Now."

Henry kicked my curled-up body, glancing back at Jacob and Isabel's table for approval.

Jacob raised his glass with a smirk. Isabel gave a small nodone last time.

They still didn't know I'd seen them.

With her permission, Henry went wild.

He ground his heel into my hand and twisted.

"You want to know why I hate this trash? His selfishness killed my friend. Jacob's dead, and this bastard's still breathing. Tell mehow could I not hate him?"

The moment those words left his mouth, dozens of eyes locked onto medripping with contempt, burning with righteous fury.

"Beat him to death! Blood for blood."

"Yeah, don't let him off. He killed someone and he's still walking around on two legs."

"If it were me, I'd break his hands..."

The curses blurred together, a swarm of wasps buzzing in my skull. I couldn't make out individual words anymorejust noise, endless noise.

Henry smirked, riding high on the crowd's bloodlust.

I knew exactly why he hated me this much. That day, I hadn't just rejected Jacob. I'd rejected him too.

Every employee at that company worked themselves to the bone. Morning to night, overtime after overtimeall chasing promotions and raises.

How could I let two deadweights who never lifted a finger steal slots from people who actually earned them?

And the one who spread those rumors wasn't me. It was Henry.

Now he was using Jacob's fake death to settle the score.

"You deaf or dying? Lick my shoes clean, and maybe I'll let you crawl out of here."

I'd barely steadied myself, barely started pushing off the ground, when his fist cracked into my face again.

"Henry, knock it off!"

Elijah Simmons shoved through the crowd and pushed Henry back.

"Julian, you okay?" He crouched beside me, voice tight with worry. "Is your stomach acting up again? I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

He was reaching to lift me onto his back when Henry's crew closed in, forming a wall around us.

From across the bar, Isabel watched with furrowed browsbut she still wouldn't show herself. Not yet.

Jacob strolled over and sat beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"Relax, babe. Henry knows the limits. He won't kill him or cripple him." He chuckled. "If he wanted Julian dead, the guy wouldn't still be moving."

Isabel's expression softened. She raised her wine glass and clinked it against his.

"You'd better not. I only wanted him scaredtaught a lesson. I can't bear to actually hurt him."

"Of course."

"Since this is the last time... help me with one final act?"

She smiled, drained her glass, then set it down and settled into her wheelchair. Her friend wheeled her toward me.

"Julian Dickerson." Her voice cut through the noise, sharp and wounded. "So instead of staying home to take care of me, you snuck off here to drink and party."

"They told me you were messing around at some bar. I didn't believe them." Her voice cracked, perfectly performed. "But here you are. Do you even have a conscience? Do you secretly wish I'd just hurry up and die?"

I wanted to climb off Elijah's back. Wanted to face her, to defend myself.

But my body had nothing left. No strength. No fight.

So this was what it felt likelife slipping away. This helplessness. This struggle to hold on.

"Isabel, don't say that about him!" Elijah's voice was fierce. "He didn't come here to mess around. He took a temp jobto earn more money for your treatment. You've got it all wrong."

Henry snorted, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Oh please. Julian Dickerson, too proud to breathe the same air as the rest of us, working temp shifts at a bar? Who's gonna buy that?"

"Exactly." Someone in the crowd laughed. "Caught red-handed and suddenly he's here for 'work.' Yeah, right."

"What a joke."

Elijah was about to explain, but Isabel cut him off.

"Julian, get down here."

"Explain yourself, or don't bother coming home."

If I could move, I would've come down long ago to confront you face-to-face. Why would I need to watch you all put on a show?

I couldn't accept ittheir lies got my only family killed, and destroyed her entire life and youth.

It took everything I had just to lift my head and look at Isabel.

She was glaring at me, eyes blazing with fury. Such a convincing performance.

But my strength gave out before I could speak. Warmth trickled from my noseblood.

Elijah noticed something was wrong. Panic flashed across his face as he tightened his grip on my back, ready to rush out.

He was the only one who knew about my illness. I'd never told IsabelI didn't want to burden her.

But her people blocked our way.

"Isabel, tell them to let us through. Julian's sick toostomach cancer."

"He paid for your treatment without saying a word, he just wanted"

"What? What did you say?"

Isabel's head snapped up toward Elijah. Before he could continue, Henry cut him off.

"Hahahaha, nice try. You'll say anything, fake anything, just to make excuses."

"Stomach cancer? Sure. Then I've got leukemiaI'm dying too!"

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Whatever flicker of concern had crossed Isabel's face vanished instantly.

"Julian, get the hell down here. Now."

Elijah kept trying to explain. She refused to listen.

After Jacob texted Henry, he didn't hesitatejust lifted his foot and kicked Elijah down.

I fell with him. My palm slammed into broken glass.

The pain had already numbed my nerves. I had no strength to speak, let alone crawl.

Elijah choked back a sob. He dragged himself over to help me up, his hands smeared with my blood.

Isabel couldn't tell any of it apart. She thought we were acting.

"Fine. I lowered myself to bring you home, and you still refuse. Since you two are such good brothers, let's see how it feelswatching your best friend get beaten while you can't do a thing."

"Hit him. Beat him until Julian crawls up to stop it."

The moment she finished, Henry moved first. More than a dozen men closed in around Elijah.

One person against all of them.

Tears blurred my vision. My eyes were slowly closing.

I felt so hopeless. Even beaten bloody, Elijah still crawled toward me, still trying to get me to a hospital.

I never understood why he was so good to me. I'd only helped him once, but he remembered that kindness forever.

We grew up together, but I had family. He was an orphan.

In our village, he was always the one getting bullied. Every holiday, every house was warm and brightexcept his, cold and empty.

I brought him home. Had my mom take him in as her godson. From then on, he had a mother. He had mean older brother to protect him.

From that day on, he was never alone again.

And he stopped being the weak one. He became someone who knew how to protect his family.

The crowd kept growing. Not a single person stepped forward to help us. To stop the beating.

As my eyes finally closed, I looked toward Elijah.

Guilt was the last thing I felt.

I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to tell him that from the moment I took him in as my little brother, I'd never once regretted it.

But time had stopped giving me chances.

In the distance, Jacob held a wineglass, watching us with a smile. Every time Isabel's resolve wavered, he'd text herharden your heart, punish them.

Maybe she sensed something was wrong with me. She told them to stop.

Elijah dragged his battered body over and pulled me up. "Julian. Julian!"

He shook me, panic rising. When he saw my eyes had fallen shut, his own turned red again.

"Isabel, help me!" He was screaming now. "He passed outcall an ambulance!"

She rolled her wheelchair over, glanced down at me, and scoffed. "Call who? He's faking it."

"I don't know what you see in him. He doesn't care whether you live or die"

"He's not pretending." Elijah's voice cracked. "He's dying."

"If you won't call, I will."

He set me down gently and fumbled for his phone. Before he could dial, Henry kicked it out of his hand.

"You haven't even apologized to me yet, and you're already looking for an excuse to run? Keep dreaming."

Elijah broke.

All he wanted was for me to survive. So he knelt. He apologized. He kowtowed over and over until his forehead split open, blood streaming down his face.

Henry still wouldn't let us go.

Something in Elijah snapped. He lifted his head, eyes blazing red. "Isabel. If you stop me from saving him again, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Forever."

Isabel froze. There was no acting in that stareonly raw, desperate truth.

She told Henry to stop.

Elijah hauled me onto his back and ran.

Isabel started to rise from her wheelchair, but Jacob caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms. "What's the rush? He'll be fine. Trust me."

His lips brushed her ear. "Why not focus on tonight instead? It's our last performance, after all. Haven't you thought about what you want?"

Then he kissed her, and whatever conscience she had left crumbled under his touch.

Elijah knelt outside the operating room, praying. His lips moved constantlyplease let him be okay, please, please.

He didn't know my soul was standing right beside him.

He didn't know I was already beyond saving.

The surgical light went dark. Doctors filed out.

When they announced my death, Elijah collapsed. The sound that tore from his throat wasn't cryingit was something broken, something that would never heal.

I tried to comfort him. Don't cry. It's okay. Please don't cry.

He couldn't hear me.

When he'd exhausted every tear, he stood and lifted my body onto his back.

I remembered doing the same for him when we were children. After the village kids beat him bloody, I'd carried him home just like this. He'd smiled through split lips and said, When I grow up and you get old, I'll carry you around the world.

While my body burned to ash, Elijah called Isabel. Dozens of times.

She didn't answer once.

Finally, he gave up. He went home alone, cradling the urn that held what was left of me.

He opened the door.

Jacob had Isabel pinned to the couch, his mouth on hers.