Part 2They Broke My Knees for Fairness

The next day, a brand-new, custom-ordered wheelchair was delivered to the house. It was a perfect match to Dominic's, right down to the color of the leather cushion.

My legs were encased in plaster, and Richard tossed me into the seat like a sack of garbage. From that moment on, my world was reduced to this metal frame.

My parents pushed the two of us around the neighborhood park every afternoon, telling anyone who would listen about their family tragedy, but proudly declaring they would never abandon their boys. The neighbors marveled at them, calling them the most loving parents in the world.

Richard would gently wipe the cold sweat from my brow, calling me a brave boy. Helen would slice an apple into two mathematically identical halves, ensuring Dominic and I received the exact same amount. They basked in the warmth of their self-righteous game, collecting praises like trophies.

Dominic's paralysis made him venomous. He couldn't cope with his fall from grace, so he took all his rage out on me.

"Mike, my cup is empty. Fetch me some water!"

Gritting my teeth against the dull ache in my legs, I rolled my chair over to pour him water. But the temperature was slightly too warm. He instantly lashed out, throwing the scalding tea directly onto the back of my hand.

"Are you an idiot? Are you trying to burn me to death?"

My skin blistered instantly, throbbing with a fierce, angry heat.

Hearing the commotion, Helen walked in. She saw my raw, red hand and Dominic's furious face.

"Mike, how can you be so careless? Your brother is fragile. He cannot have hot water. Don't you know any better?" She took the cup, refilled it with lukewarm water, and handed it to Dominic, never once looking at my injury.

Because my legs hadn't healed properly, the rainy days brought an agonizing, deep-seated pain. The pain medication prescribed by the doctor became my only sanctuary.

But before long, Helen confiscated all of my pills.

"Mike, your brother is so weak. The doctor recommended high-protein supplements for him, and they are incredibly expensive. Be a good boy and bear with the pain so we can save that money for his nutrition, okay?" She used her gentlest, most reasonable tone to deliver the most ruthless sentence.

I stared at her. "Mom, if I had been the one in the car crash, would you have broken Dominic's legs?"

Her face stiffened for a fraction of a second before returning to her mask of maternal martyrdom. "Don't speak such nonsense. Both of you are my flesh and blood. Now, stop overthinking things."

She turned and walked away, never mentioning the pills again.

Without the medication, I spent my nights twisting in agony, unable to sleep. Meanwhile, from the next room, I could hear Dominic shouting happily as he played video games.

To accommodate Dominic's physical therapy, they converted my bedroom into a gym and banished me to the damp, dark basement. There were no windows, and the air was thick with the scent of mold.

Dominic's cruelty escalated. He would intentionally ram his electric wheelchair into my food tray, laughing as I scrambled on the dirty floor to salvage my dinner. He used nail clippers to shred my remaining clothes, piece by piece.

"Why does a cripple need nice clothes? You should wear rags just like me. That is what I call fair."

When I showed the shredded fabric to Helen, she only sighed.

"Your brother is in so much pain, Mike. He didn't mean it. Just tolerate it a little. It helps him vent."

"Tolerate it? Then who is going to tolerate my pain?"

"Mike!" Helen's voice turned sharp. "Do you have to be so incredibly selfish? Your brother has lost his legs! What more do you want from him?"

Looking at her, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

In this house, Dominic's suffering was a tragedy. Mine was just selfishness.