There's something wrong with my brother. I've been trying to tell people this for years but no one listens. My parents just laughed it off, my teachers didn't believe me because they always liked him, and my friends though he was the coolest guy alive. None of them were there to see him lose his mind.
But I was.
"Put your fucking hands up and give me your money." I don't even have to turn around from the ATM to know that it's my brother. Hold on, I say, I'm trying to get some money out. "That's more important than seeing your only brother?" It is, but I didn't tell him that. Instead I turned around and made the best artificial smile I could. I hugged him. I told him it was good to see him. "Good to see you too, bro. Man, I haven't seen you in a few weeks. How you been?" I've been good, I say. "Good, that's good. I've been good, too. Let's go get some drinks, like right now. I could down a few beers. Want to?" No. But I tell him yes. I got the money I wanted from the ATM, and then we went to a bar.
You have to understand that I never liked my brother. He always got better grades, better friends, better presents at Christmas, and everyone just liked him more than me. Hell, my friends came over my house just to hang out with him. No one really cared about me, not my parents or my friends, not my teachers, not anyone except my grandfather. He seemed to understand that I was jealous and felt overshadowed by my brother. He would always talk to me and take me out shopping and out to eat and things like that. I loved him and he loved me.
At the bar I ordered water. My brother ordered beer after beer.
The bar we went to wasn't anything special. It was a little place where drug deals go down in the bathroom and hookers wait outside for clients. But it was cheap, and the food was good.
"C'mon bro, this was the best bar you could find?" I tell him it's my favorite, and he just stares at me. "I come in from out of town and you couldn't even take me to a strip club, you take to me this shit hole. You're all class, you know that?" I grip my glass. My knuckles turn white. My head starts to throb. Just drink your beer, I say, and let's get out of here. My brother orders another drink.
"You've had enough, buddy." the bartender says to my brother.
"I've had enough? I'll tell you when I've had enough, 'buddy'. Now give me another beer."
The bartender looks at him, looks at me, and I nod. He gives him another beer.
My brother chugs it down. "Alright dude, let's bounce." I put fifty dollars on the bar, get up from the chair, and I walk towards the front door, my brother following me.
My hands shook. The blood dripped off and splattered on the floor.