Chapter 1

My brother and I never really got along growing up. The constant arguing just about drove my mother to madness. We never really got physical, I mean sure, there were a few shoves, kicks, and the occasional punch, but it was mostly just bickering. That bickering would regularly escalate to yelling, but almost never anything past that.

We had very different personalities, sharing almost nothing in common from our taste in music, movies, and video games, to our political beliefs. Our relationship only got more tumultuous into adulthood. It's like we continued growing farther apart in terms of what we disagreed on.

My poor mother believed that we did this on purpose, like we were deliberately contrarian to each other. She was constantly devastated that we never all spent time together as a family. It was either he or I that would spend the day at her house. The few times that we were both there, we would just argue with each other the whole time. I think it was too much for her heart to take. We buried her when I was 32 and he was 29.

No funeral is pleasant, but hers was especially unpleasant. An air of animosity filled the chapel. All the guests were visibly uncomfortable, just waiting for a fight to break out between us. However, we were both too driven by grief to even talk, we hardly even opened our mouths.

We didn't see or hear from each other for months after that. Not until it was time to deal with the estate. Mom didn't have a whole lot to divide up, but she did have a house, a car, a piano, and a few other things that may have had a little value. She never bothered to write a will, so we had to deal with the courts.

I found it odd that I was awarded the house, seeing that I was single, and my brother had a wife and two kids. They didn't put up a fight though, his wife always wanted a piano, and they needed another car for their growing family. I personally didn't care how any of it shook out, I just wanted it to end so I didn't have to deal with him anymore. It was more than obvious that the feelings were mutual.

Not much longer after that he announced that they were moving away, several towns away in fact. This was music to my ears, I would never have to accidently run into him at the grocery store, the bank, or wherever else we both happen to visit.

A few years went by, a few years of pure bliss. I almost forgot about his existence for a moment there. A nice little moment until one night I heard him in my back yard.

“Hey asshole!”

I was lying in my bed, not having fallen asleep yet. I look to see that it's half past midnight.

“What the hell?” I say to myself.

Maybe it was my imagination, it's possible that I had just started drifting off.

“I've got something to say to you, you piece of shit!”

No, that was real. I went over to the window and opened it. I was on the second floor, so I could see the entirety of the back yard. I suppose there were dark corners where they could hide, but I couldn't see anyone.

“Where are you?” I said loudly, but not yelling, I didn't want to disturb the neighbors.

There was no response. I don't know what that was, but it must have been someone in another yard, or someone's TV turned up way too loud, I don't know. It was quiet for the rest of the night.

I woke up the next morning hardly even remembering the night before. I just chalked it up to being a dream I had or something. The day went by fairly normal until it was time to go back to sleep.

“Why don't you come out here and face me like a man?”

Okay, that was definitely real. I went over to the window and opened it.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Again there was no response. Is someone trying to mess with me? I swear it sounds exactly like my brother, but that would be impossible.

This went on for about a week. My sleep got worse every night. I started to feel paranoid. It can't be my brother, that wouldn't make any sense, but it sounds exactly like him.

I'm not the type to sleep in very late on my days off, but it started to feel like the only time I could sleep was during the day. In fact I started to go right to bed after I got home from work, only to be woken up by his yelling. It was 1 pm on the weekend and I was fast asleep. I was woken up by my phone ringing. It was my brother's wife.

“Shit!”

As it turns out, he hadn't been home in over a week. She didn't want to call me, but she was getting desperate. Last she heard was that he had to go out of town for a meeting. I found it odd that he would lie to her. I felt bad, but I wasn't comfortable telling her the truth, so I lied to her as well. I told her that I hadn't heard from him.

I can't believe it took her a week to report him missing. She hadn't gotten a single phone call or text message from him since the day after he left. The police started an investigation. She would call and give me updates. I really wish she wouldn't, because I simply didn't care. I felt bad for her, and I felt bad for the kids, but there was something else. I know it makes me sound like a bad person, but part of me hoped that they would never find him.

I just wish he would leave me alone. Night after night he pays me a visit. Always telling me how he's going to beat the shit out of me, or that I deserved to die. The threats escalated over time, he was threatening to kill me. I didn't know what to do.

The doorbell rang at a quarter past 3 in the afternoon. It took banging on the door to finally wake me up. There were two police officers outside.

“Shit.”

I knew this was coming, I had been dreading it. They knew about our tumultuous relationship. I was fully expecting them to be accusatory. They were convinced I had to know of his whereabouts. Obviously I didn't tell them about his nightly visits. There really was no reason to do that. I just wanted them to go away. I just wanted to go back to sleep. I'm so tired.

They finally left after what felt like hours. I made my way back upstairs, and into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately.

“Hey!”

I look at the clock, it's 10pm. He's here earlier than usual.

“You awake, you miserable excuse for a human being?”

I made my way over to the window and opened it.

“Just do it already, fucking kill me, I don't care anymore. I'm just so tired.”

He didn't respond.

After a few months of my brother's nightly visits, the constant visits from police, and the occasional phone call from my brother's wife, I was thoroughly exhausted. I was fired for poor performance and sleeping on the job. The severance check and unemployment could keep my head above water for a year maybe, but after that, then what?

What does it even matter? I have no quality of life left. My brother won't leave me alone, the cops won't leave me alone, and every phone call from his wife rips my heart out. They've declared my brother dead, but that has only made everything worse.

I'm typing this all out on my phone. I'm sitting in the front seat of my mother's car. The engine is running, and the garage door is closed. I don't know what else to do. I could try moving away, starting a new life. It's not like he's going to follow me, he won't be leaving the back yard any time soon. However, that would just make the cops even more suspicious of me, and besides, I'm just too tired for all that. I don't think I'll ever have peace for the rest of my life.

Well brother, you've gotten your revenge, I hope you're happy.