This is A Confession.

To whom it may concern,

This is a confession. I killed my brother. I know you’re reading this, Karen, and I know you’re screaming “I KNEW IT” and jumping with joy because all your worst instincts about me just came true. It’s sad, really, how you had to make even the tragic demise of a ‘beautiful young man with so much potential’ all about you. But, well, we all know you’re a cougar bitch, Karen. And you know it too.

‘Why did I kill my brother,’ you might ask. ‘He had so much potential,’ you might say. ‘He was such a darling boy,’ you’d tell each other even though you knew nothing about him. You didn’t grow up with him. You didn’t have to live in his shadow. He was such a conceited piece of shit, but none of you other pieces of shit ever saw it.

‘But he needed the care and attention!’
‘He went through so much pain!’
‘He had such a tough break in his life!’

Save the bullshit, Karen & Co.! His accident had nothing to do with his narcissistic tendencies. It only gave him another angle with which to milk society’s teat for every last drop of attention! I saw how you people fawned over him. He became even more full of himself!

‘He needed help!’
‘He was never the same after the accident!’
‘Dr. Suaidi said he would never fully recover!’

Oh, for fuck’s sake! I know what that brown quack said. He was insufferable even before his accident. And yes, he NEVER was the same after. He was SO MUCH WORSE. He couldn’t make sense of a lot of things. His mild psychotic episodes tainted everything around him – but he never let it show in front of company. How could my darling, ‘future of the empire’, control freak, self-idolizing bastard of a brother let people know that he was not right in the head?!

‘You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead!’
‘What you did to him is unforgivable!’

What makes you think I’m looking for your forgiveness?! You people would dump me in a snake pit if he had so much as hinted at it. That’s how CHARMED you were by him! He dazzled everyone he met into submission and you people never realized it. Pathetic snobs.

He held on to his control over the family so tightly, he didn’t even realize I had slipped through his fingers long ago.

All it took to drive him over the edge was an image of some rando from the internet, two weeks of careful photoshopping and swapping pictures framed around the house at night. Mom and Dad were away for the weekend. The servants were practically robots, even more so since the major-domo was fired after the accident. There was no question of anyone else catching on before he did. And so I waited and daydreamed about a world free of the stain of his existence.

I knew that when he finally did notice the same random dude in every family picture, he’d keep mum about it. He wouldn’t want anyone to think he was anything less than perfect, that his control was slipping. He would try to be rational about it, try to investigate. But the internet wasn’t working (yes, that was me) and his car wouldn’t start (also me) and his phone died and wouldn’t charge (that was just plain good luck).

I spent the whole weekend lurking in corners watching him. The moment he noticed the first photo was electrifying. He grabbed the frame off the table in the foyer, squinting his eyes to focus and I felt like dancing. From that point on, I watched him self-destruct over the course of one weekend. I admit I placed the stick of dynamite in his hand but he lit it himself. And held onto it until it blew his brains out. Quite literally. Daddy’s gun left a rather big hole in his head. His brain was splattered over the wall behind Daddy’s desk – that conniving, controlling, bastard of a brain. Nothing ever made me scream louder – only the servants didn’t know it was for pleasure.

By the time you read this, Karen & Co., I’ll have disappeared. I’m sure you won’t waste any time trying to find me. This is just gossip fodder until the next big scandal. I wish I could stay to listen to all the misconceived rumors you’ll spread about me, Karen. But a girl’s got a life to live.

Not so sincerely yours.