After My Brutal Death, My Hateful Brother Went Mad

My brother, Pierre, hated me since we were kids.

He never let me call him Pierre. He called me a curse, saying I killed his mother.

The day I was murdered, I called him crying:

Pierre, please save me. Im so scared.

He didnt reply until Helenas birthday party was over:

I hope youre actually kidnapped. I hope you die right now.

Then he blocked me.

The killer smiled as he slit my throat. Blood splattered everywhere.

"Turns out youre just an unwanted brat. Ill make this quick and painless for you."

Later, I heard that after my death, Pierrethe brother who hated me mostwent completely gray overnight.

Pierre once had a perfect, happy family.

A beautiful mother, a successful father, and a wealthy household. Everything was perfect.

Then, Mom got pregnant. She would stroke Pierres hair and say:

"Pierre, when you grow up, you must protect Chris."

Little Pierre clenched his fists tightly, taking it very seriously:

"Don't worry, Mom. Ill love her forever and take good care of Chris!"

Dad smiled, and Mom gently patted his head.

But everything changed the day I was born.

Mom had a severe hemorrhage during childbirth. It was highly dangerous.

She could have survived, but she chose to save me instead.

My mom was the heiress to the James Group. She was brilliant, beautiful, and the dream of countless men.

But she fell in love with my dad, who came from a poor, small town.

They dated for ten years before she finally convinced Grandfather to approve of the marriage.

They got married, had Pierre, and built a perfect life that everyone envied.

When I was born, I was just a tiny, wrinkled baby. Dad couldn't accept Mom's death. He jumped from the seventeenth floor of the hospital, crashing into a bloody mess.

And Pierre would stare at me in my crib night after night, trying to suppress the urge to strangle me:

"Why did Mom have to die instead of you?"

By the time I was seven, I already knew I was the reason Mom died.

So, I spent my life trying to make it up to Pierre.

I cleaned his room every day and saved my favorite snacks for him.

I saved all the allowance Grandfather gave me to buy Pierre birthday gifts.

On Pierres birthday, I bought him an expensive toy using the money I had saved all year.

He started laughing, but then he began to cry. It hurt to see him like that, so I hugged him tight:

"Im sorry, Pierre. Its all my fault. I promise Ill be good to you from now on."

"Mom is dead! How can you ever pay that back?"

Pierre pushed me away violently. My arm hit the corner of the table, turning black and blue. Tears streamed down my face from the pain:

"I'll take care of you just like Mom did. Please don't hate me."

Pierre didn't say a word. He just went wild, smashing the toy I bought him against the wall:

"Stop talking to me! Get out! You don't deserve to be my sister!"

But later, I saw him treasure a cheap, random gift from our cousin, Helena, for years like it was gold.

Helena looked a lot like Mom in the old photos. Pierre smiled whenever he saw her.

That was when I realized Pierre didn't hate my gifts. He just hated me.

I started clumsily copying Helena. I dressed like her and talked like her.

She would bend down to rescue stray cats on the street, so I did the same.

I thought Pierre might like me even a little bit if I did that. But it only made him despise me more.

I still remember how coldly he looked at me when I was holding a dirty stray cat:

"You just make me sick."

After that, I stopped trying. I went back to being the quiet girl with thick glasses, walking with my head down at school.

During my freshman year of high school, a group of popular, mean girls blocked my way in an alley:

"Hey, I heard youve been clinging to Pierre. How can you be so shameless?"

Another girl snickered:

"Look at her. She's so ugly. Where does she get the nerve?"

"She's delusional. She's living in a fantasy world."

They surrounded me, mocking my looks. I gathered my courage and yelled back:

"No! I'm not clinging to him! I'm his sister!"

The girls laughed even harder:

"We've only ever heard of his cousin, Helena. Who the hell are you?"

I cried and argued with them. Just as one of them was about to slap me across the face...

Pierre suddenly appeared at the entrance of the alley. For the first time in my life, I felt a wave of warmth.

Pierre, did you know I was in danger? Did you come to save me?

The leader of the girls saw Pierre and casually put her hand on my shoulder:

"We saw this girl bothering you, so we wanted to teach her to stay away."

Pierre stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking at me coldly. I shrank back, too scared to speak.

But my eyes were wide with hope. He still cares about me, right?

But in the next second, my hopes were shattered.

The girl next to me asked Pierre:

"She says shes your sister. Is that true?"

Pierre's cold face turned completely dark. He said coldly:

"She is not my sister. Im an only child. I don't have a sister."

Then, he turned around and walked away without looking back, ignoring my desperate cries.

I don't remember how many times I screamed his name that day. The girls slapped me over and over again.

They eventually stripped off my clothes, poured hot candle wax onto my skin, and recorded a video.

In the video, my hair was a mess, my face was swollen, and my clothes were torn.

They forced me to kneel and call myself a worthless piece of trash over and over.

The video went viral on the school gossip board. Everyone mocked me for being delusional and crazy.

I had no family, and no friends to talk to.

During that time, I buried myself in my studies. That was the only way I could forget the pain.

A few times, I scored top of the class. When I told Pierre, he didn't even frown.

So, I studied even harder.

When I received early admission to his university with a full scholarship, I excitedly held out the letter to him:

"Pierre, look! I got into your college! We can study together again!"

Pierre pushed me aside and pulled a crying Helena into his arms:

"Youd better get out of my sight right now."

Helena was an only child. When she was little, she also loved following Pierre around.

But Pierre adored her. He always gave her my snacks whenever she visited, and as they grew up, he spoiled her completely.

Only later did I find out that the day I got my admission letter, Helena was upset because she did poorly on a minor midterm exam.

Helena had posted on Instagram: "When others have nothing to eat, chewing quietly is a form of politeness."

The post was filled with pictures.

The first three photos were of Pierre taking her to Disneyland to cheer her up.

Disneylanda place I had only ever dreamed of going. She wore a beautiful dress, sitting on the carousel with a radiant smile.

The next three photos showed Pierre buying her tons of expensive clothes.

I had actually tried one of those dresses on in secret once, but I had quietly put it back because it was too expensive.

The last three were silly selfies of her and Pierre. Once, I had secretly taken a photo of Pierres back.

But he snatched my phone and deleted everything, not caring if there were important files.

I never dared to take a photo of him again.

Looking at Helena's princess-like Instagram, I gave it a like. Soon, notifications flooded in.

Her friends commented below:

"Wow! Pierre spoils you so much! I can't imagine how lucky his actual sister would be!"

"My only wish for my next life is to be Pierres sister!"

On Helena's birthday, I received an invitation too.

I was sitting in a dim cab, rushing to the hotel where the party was being held. The radio was playing the news:

"A serial killer remains at large in our city. Please exercise caution when traveling, and avoid going out alone."

It was Helena's eighteenth birthday, so Pierre threw her a massive party. Even the local media was broadcasting it live.

I spent six months of my savings to buy her an elegant hair clip, hoping she'd like it.

"Why aren't you here yet? Helenas party is about to start."

"I know youre usually jealous of Helena, but don't ruin her night, okay?"

Pierre actually called me, but it was only to snap at me.

A wave of hurt washed over me. Pierre had completely forgotten that today was my birthday, too.

"No, the traffic is terrible... I've been waiting for a cab for half an"

"Stop making excuses. If you're late, don't ever bother coming back to this house."

In the background, I heard Helena's sweet voice calling his name.

Pierre hung up impatiently.

It was completely dark. Looking at the traffic, I realized Id never make it on time.

I paid the driver and got out. If I ran, I might still make it.

I dashed out and started running. Halfway there, I heard a whimpering kitten in the bushes. It had a broken leg.

I slowed down, tore a piece of fabric from my jacket, and gently bandaged its leg.

As soon as I finished, I looked up. A mans face, twisted in a creepy smile, loomed over me.

The next second, everything went black.