I won the competition.

And I didn't stay to get the prize.

I don't regret it.

I would've liked to take the trophy home and give my parents something to think about. I would've liked to pass it every day as it sat on the mantlepiece in the living room, and feel good about myself. I would've liked to have something to show for my efforts.

But I didn't want publicity. And I didn't think my parents would care. Mum never comes out of her room nowadays, and Dad is always out. Somewhere. And I don't think I could've lived with the knowledge of an achievement for the good of myself, thinking about Vere.

Thinking about Vere... Myself...

I entered the competition under the name of Vere Destiny O'Derron. So the trophy would have been Vere's. The good of Vere. Wouldn't she have liked that? Her name engraved on a trophy even five years after her murder - wouldn't she have been proud? Or would she rather I had entered and won under my own name, seeing as they were my pictures? No; that was for my own ends.

I do regret it. I regret not taking the trophy. I regret it dearly.

Once again I have done the wrong thing. Because I was thinking of myself. And I should have been thinking of Vere. Vere...the body, the body's memory, what the body once was, how the body once lived, that is what I shall live for...

I shall stick by that vow. I live for the body, Vere - and so I should have collected that trophy, and seen it engraved with the name Vere Destiny O'Derron. But I can't. It's done now. And it's too late.

Too late...

Vere is dead, and it's too late. The body is lifeless, and it's too late.

Why do I bother? Why, why, why do I ever bother? Wouldn't suicide be a relief? I pushed that thought away. I am the future of the O'Derron family. Future? Yeah, what future? Future of depression and mourning and loneliness? The future of a family is descendants. Usually. Not in this family. As if I could have descendants without raping anyone. Who could love an ugly bitter boy whose life is already dedicated to his long-dead sister? Think, phantom reader, who? Who in the world? Who ever?

No; the future of this family is revenge. What else is there left for me?

The End

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