Chapter One

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            I didn't cry for my brother. I didn't care he was my twin, or my only sibling, or that I couldn't see him one final time. Not that I would want to see him again- I had been the one to find the body- I knew what he looked like.

The organist played some maudlin melody that I was sure would result in Edward mockingly dry-heave and demand someone "crank the Khalid" or something that sounds like a drug reference.

"We are gathered here today to honor and remember Edward Stevenson- a boy who died much too young. He is survived by his brother, parents and several family members." Pastor Elias trailed on with all of Edward's accomplishments and traits and other stuff that made me wanna throw someone across the room. I knew he was just spouting a bunch of positive things to make others feel better. He wasn't going to talk about what Edward was really like- like his habit for smoking weed in the basement safe-room, his fondness of casual sex with peers and his favorite hobby- attending keggers. I wasn't going to say anything. I was already the school weirdo with the dead brother- I was not going to become the school weirdo with the dead brother that had a meltdown at his brother's funeral. No way-Jose. Not going to happen.

"If anyone would like to say a few words in memory of the dearly departed, now would be the time." Pastor Elias stepped off the platform and left it open for anyone to say the very few positively-applicable words about Edward.

Hattie, my best friend and Edwards's ex-girlfriend, nudged me.

"Henry- you should say something!" She whispered. I rolled my eyes. She was Edward's loyal, devoted, naïve and blissfully ignorant girlfriend. Anything I would or could say would leave the grieving party in more tears than the already were.

"Why don't you! I think you would be able to say more positive things than I would." I advised. She agreed, then went and spoke about how Edward was the "perfect boyfriend" and was "loyal beyond belief." I didn't have the heart to tell her about the time I had seen some sophomore skank slink out of Edward's room at the early hours of the day, or the rather explicit Snapchats of a girl's uncovered breasts I would see over his unsuspecting shoulder.

I looked at Hattie, observing her brown hair wrapped in a messy bun atop her head, her modest but alluring black lace dress and simple black flats. How was it that she thought herself worthy to be his girlfriend when she could have done so much better? It was very frustrating.

What makes you think that you're worthy of her? All you are is my cheap knock-off. You have nothing on me.

The voice of one cold and unforgiving rang through my head. It was familiar, but unplaceable. I ignored the negative thoughts and tried to listen to Hattie's speech, but I found the sweetened words of Edward's live to be intolerable.

I muttered to my silently weeping mother that I was going out for fresh air, and left the funeral parlor. I attempted to ignore the judgmental looks I was receiving from the peers and family of my deceased brother, but I could practically feel the waves of negative thoughts and ill-wishes from the crowd. Even on the day of my brother's funeral, I couldn't get a bit of a break from other people.

The pummeling heat of the remaining summer weather made me regret wearing black, despite it being proper funeral attire. I slipped the keys of my (formerly me and Edward's) white sedan out of my pockets and unlocked the car. The musk of sweat and mud and moldy popcorn flooded my olfactory senses as I got in the driver's seat and shut the door. I started the air conditioning and felt the rush of cool air slowly freeze my anger and deep-seated hatred and resentment for Edward.

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