"Bran, I can understand if you didn't want to pay for my treatment. But when I was hospitalized, you didn't even visit once. What kind of son…"
The live chat comments immediately turned against me.
"What could possibly be so important that you can't even take a call? I reply to messages while waiting at traffic lights. How can you call yourself someone's son?"
"Unbelievable. Parents are usually closest to the child they favor most, but it's the opposite here. His brother is a better son than he is."
Some comments were also on my side.
"What if he really had something urgent? I once took a call from home during a meeting and got fired for it."
"To the commenter above, how often does something like that actually happen?"
The live chat went back and forth, while my relatives in the gallery hurled insults that were hard to listen to. Meanwhile, Mom kept wiping her tears, playing the perfect victim.
Judge Caine glanced at me. "We will now extract the defendant's memory."
A surge of electricity shot through my body. I convulsed, fists clenched tight, forcing myself not to make a sound.
The screen shifted to my perspective. I was sitting by the roadside, chewing on bread under the blazing sun, sweat soaking through my clothes. Around me were laborers waiting for work. I was one of them.
At the time, my company downsized. Because I hadn't bribed HR, I was laid off. I couldn't afford to sit idle. I had nothing to my name.
My phone rang. I had barely said half a sentence when a truck arrived to pick workers. Everyone rushed forward. My phone was knocked out of my hand and hit the ground, the screen shattering.
Worried about Mom, I dropped to the ground, scrambling to find my phone. But people kept kicking it around. By the time I finally picked it up, it had already turned off.
I didn't have time to think. I heard someone shout that it was 200 dollars for three hours of work. A coworker I got along with pulled me onto the truck.
Once inside, I borrowed his phone to call Cody. But he declined every call.
The live chat comments began to shift.
"I thought Brandon was supposed to be the richest one. Did you guys notice? Cody was using the latest phone, while Brandon had some cheap off-brand phone my grandma wouldn't even use."
"Cody and the parents were dressed in designer clothes too. Even in the hospital, they were in an expensive private room. Meanwhile, Brandon was out there eating bread under the hot sun."
A flicker of unease crossed my parents' and Cody's faces.
I said nothing, simply keeping my eyes fixed on the screen.
I worked at a courier station, hauling packages nonstop. A few times, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but I refused to quit. After all, if I gave up, I'd have to walk back on my own, and I wouldn't get to put food on the table.
In the end, I held out. When it came time to receive payment, I was overjoyed. Clutching the cash, I quickly found a phone and called home again. I wanted to know how Mom was doing.
This time, it was Mom's voice on the other end of the line.
