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From the outside, everything looks perfect. My brother, Michael, has it all: the successful career, the beautiful wife, the charming suburban home with a white picket fence. Meanwhile, I’ve been stuck in a dead-end job, living in a cramped apartment, watching my dreams slip away. The bitterness festers inside me, a corrosive poison that gnaws at my insides. I can’t escape the comparison; it’s everywhere, a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Tonight, that ends. I sit in the dim light of my apartment, a plan meticulously laid out in my mind. Michael’s life has been handed to him on a silver platter, while I’ve had to scrape and claw for every crumb. But not anymore. Tonight, I will reclaim what’s rightfully mine. The key to Michael’s house rests cold in my hand, stolen during a visit weeks ago. I knew it would come in handy. It’s almost laughable how easy it was to swipe, how trusting Michael is. How foolish. I’ve been watching them for weeks, learning their routines. Michael always comes home late on Fridays, exhausted from his job at the law firm. Sara, his perfect wife, usually heads to bed early, a glass of wine and a book her only company. Tonight, I’ll wait for her to fall asleep before I make my move. I park my car a few blocks away and walk to their house, the night air crisp and biting. My heart pounds with anticipation, but my mind is calm, focused. I approach the back door, inserting the key with a soft click. The house is dark and silent, the faint hum of appliances the only sound. I step inside, closing the door quietly behind me. I move through the house with purpose, each step calculated. I can see the faint glow from under the bedroom door where Sara must be. I need to be quick, silent. I need to be perfect. I pull out the knife from my jacket, the blade gleaming dully in the low light. My hand is steady, my resolve unshaken. I creep upstairs, my footsteps muffled by the carpet. I pause outside the bedroom, listening. I hear the gentle rustle of pages turning, then the soft thud as Sara places her book on the nightstand. The light clicks off, and I wait, counting the minutes until I’m sure she’s asleep. The house is silent now, and I know it’s time. I open the door slowly, slipping inside. Sara is already asleep, her breathing deep and even. She looks peaceful, innocent. I push the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. I make my way to the closet, the perfect hiding spot. From here, I can wait for Michael, unseen and patient. I settle in, closing the door just enough to leave a sliver of a gap, giving me a view of the room. The minutes drag on, but I remain still, my grip on the knife tightening. Finally, I hear the front door open, then close. Michael’s home. I listen to his footsteps, the faint clinking of keys as he drops them on the counter. He moves around the house, checking on things, and then I hear him heading upstairs. My heart races, adrenaline surging through my veins. The bedroom door opens, and Michael enters, moving quietly so as not to wake Sara. He goes to the bathroom, and I hear the water running. My moment is coming. I shift slightly, preparing myself. Michael steps back into the bedroom, heading toward the bed. He looks at Sara for a moment, a soft smile on his face. Hatred boils within me, but I wait, biding my time. He undresses and slips into bed, turning off the light. The room is plunged into darkness. I wait, counting the seconds, allowing him to drift into sleep. When I’m sure he’s asleep, I silently open the closet door and step out, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The knife feels like an extension of my arm, a part of me. I move to the side of the bed, standing over him. My brother. My rival. I raise the knife, aiming for his heart. But in that moment, a flicker of doubt crosses my mind. What if this doesn’t solve anything? What if I’m caught? What if— Michael stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He sees me, his expression shifting from confusion to horror. Before he can react, I plunge the knife down, silencing his scream. The blade sinks into flesh, the warm blood spilling over my hands. Sara wakes, her scream piercing the air. Panic sets in. I didn’t plan for this. She lunges at me, but I’m faster, stronger. I turn the knife on her, ending her struggle. The room falls silent, the only sound my ragged breathing. I stand there, looking at the bodies, the realization of what I’ve done washing over me. The jealousy that drove me here, the hatred that fueled my actions—it all seems so pointless now. The perfect life I envied lies in ruins before me, and I know there’s no going back. I drop the knife, my hands trembling, and stumble out of the room. The house that once held my brother’s perfect life is now a tomb, and I am left with nothing but the consequences of my own actions. I walk out into the night, the darkness closing in around me, knowing that I’ve destroyed not just their lives, but my own as well.