My Brother, The True Killer novel Chapter 3

Lucas arrived home and immediately started cleaning Simone's room, scrubbing every surface with meticulous care. He didn’t want a single speck of dust to touch his angelic little sister.

He didn’t realize he was cleaning away my blood.

This house, once filled with the laughter of a happy family, was now the scene of my dismemberment.

Lucas paused, sniffing the air. "What's that strange smell?"

"Lucas, you’re back?" Simone emerged from the bathroom, her voice casual, but her movements were hurried, her hand quickly shutting the door behind her.

If he had been a second slower, he would have seen the remnants on the bathroom floor.

My remnants.

I felt a pang of sadness. Even in death, even though Lucas had always called me ugly, I was still a girl, a girl who had once cared about her appearance.

Simone, on the other hand, had intentionally disfigured her face, mimicking the shattered pieces of a broken mirror.

"I know you wanted me to meet you at the restaurant, Simone," Lucas said apologetically, "but I haven’t been home in days. I thought I should at least help you clean up. Is your friend still here?"

Simone nodded stiffly. "She went to buy some water. We’ll be studying together for the next week. You don’t mind staying at the hotel, do you? She’s a bit shy.”

Lucas chuckled. “Of course not. I’m proud of you, Simone. You’re such a dedicated student. Not like that good-for-nothing Lydia. Probably skipping work again, out there being a slut.”

He had forgotten that I had always excelled in school, acing every test, never missing a day, even when I was burning with fever.

Simone, on the other hand, was constantly faking illnesses to sneak off to nightclubs.

But none of that mattered to Lucas. He just hated me.

And he showered Simone with the affection he had denied me.

“It’s okay, I can clean up myself. Go back to work, Lucas. I don’t want to distract you,” Simone said, trying to take the broom from his hands.

She succeeded, but Lucas recoiled, his face contorting in disgust.

“Why do you smell like that?”

Simone trembled, then quickly explained that she had cooked fish for dinner, and the fish had jumped out of the sink, creating a mess.

I wanted to scream. She wasn't talking about fish! She was talking about me!