C57 (1/2)

Ever since I was a kid, I've slept in the same room with my brother, who was three and I was eight.

In addition to me and my brother, there were my mother and my grandmother. Mom and Dad were divorced, and Grandpa died a long time ago.

Because most of the families are women, only my brother is male, so I feel that my brother is a little out of place, even hate his existence. As my brother grew older, my dislike of him turned to hatred. I hated him for fighting over food with me, hated him for messing up my things, hated him for his habitual shouting, hated him for making my mother happy, but what I hated most was the sound of him grinding his teeth in his sleep.

I don't know what caused the molars, but he started grinding his teeth around the time my brother was five, and they often upset my sleep. The sound of his teeth, dry and harsh, made my scalp tingle, and I woke up in my sleep many times because of the sound of his teeth. Until one day, when I couldn't stand it any longer, I jumped out of bed, went to his bed, grabbed his hair, and shook it. At that moment, I felt so good. The hatred that I had been suppressing for so long had finally been vented.

The next day, I was scolded by my mother about it, but I didn't care. After all, I had achieved my goal.

Since then, I have bullied my brother and vented my displeasure with him. I grabbed his hair, I pulled his face, I slapped his head, I kicked his ass, I stole his things, and I warned him not to tell Mom or Grandma, or I'd bully him worse. My brother was almost scared by me, and he would occasionally report to my mother, who would scold me, and then I would take revenge on my brother.

Generally speaking, our relationship with each other was extremely bad. It was all because of the sound of his gritting his teeth that I couldn't stand it. As he grew older, the sound of grinding his teeth became louder. Many times I had suggested to my mother that we change rooms, but my mother had always said that my grandmother's health was poor and that she needed someone to take care of her. I could only continue sleeping in the same room as my brother.

Until my brother turned thirteen, when he was in middle school, and I was almost at work, we were still sleeping together. Not to mention how inconvenient it was for me, just the sound of his grinding teeth made me wish I was dead.

”Squeak, squeak, squeak …”

I couldn't make out the sound, but it was as if an electric drill was drilling its way into my ear every night.

Finally, at the end of that year, something big happened at home. His brother was hit by a truck because he was careless while crossing the road. My mother and grandmother were heartbroken, but my thoughts were complicated. I felt a little guilty, a little sorry, but I was more grateful.

I know it's cold-blooded, but I just can't help it. At my brother's funeral, I cried like my mother and grandmother. In fact, no one could guess what I was thinking.

Today, three months after my brother's death, I slept comfortably every night until dawn. I could no longer hear the sound of grinding teeth that bothered me, and I had to admit that my brother's departure was a good thing for me.

It's been raining hard these few days, and my grandma's old illness is acting up again, so she stays in the hospital, and my mom stays with me every night at the hospital. I'm the only one left at home.

I am a timid person. In the past, when mother and grandmother weren't at home, at least I had a younger brother. Then I would use all kinds of methods to bully him. I wasn't bored at all. But now the house was deserted and empty, and it was raining and thunder outside again, which made me flustered. Only then did I feel that my brother was actually of some use.

When I turned off the TV and got ready to go to bed, it was still raining heavily outside the window. I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't help but look at my brother's bed, which was now empty and neatly folded, as it had been on the day of his accident. I don't understand why my mother didn't take care of my brother's things. Maybe she wanted to remember him for a while.

I stared at my brother's bed, my heart beating faster and faster, as if he were sleeping on it again. ”Sis,” I asked cautiously, ”am I making a fuss about you?”

Outside the window, wind and rain were blowing, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, lighting up his brother's bed from time to time.

I don't know why. I had never felt such a sensation before.

I even began to think that my brother was lying in bed. I had no choice but to roll over, pull the covers over my head, and close my eyes.

But the more I tried to avoid the thought, the more it came to mind. And because my back was to my brother's bed, I had a feeling that a crisis was brewing behind me.

My eyes flew open and I jerked my head back to make sure my brother's bed was still the same.

I was disgusted by my nervous reaction, but I couldn't help it. I broke out in a cold sweat, thinking how nice it would be if my mother and grandmother were home.

In my nervousness, I suddenly felt like peeing, but I didn't dare move, as if I were afraid of attracting attention.

After hesitating for a long time, I finally got up from the bed. When I stepped out of the room, my gaze never left my brother's bed.

I tiptoed into the living room. There was no one in the house, but I was surprisingly cautious. As I was about to go into the bathroom, I heard a noise outside the front door.

My bathroom was close to the front door, and there was a hallway two or three paces away, shaded by a brown carpet.

I stood in front of the bathroom door and listened. I felt the sound was strange, like someone was touching my door.

The fear in my heart grew, and I was horrified by my own guesses. Anyhow, it's the middle of the night and I can't open the door no matter who it is.

Fortunately, the sound only lasted for a short while before it disappeared. My anxious heart finally settled down and I entered the bathroom.

Because I was so nervous, I couldn't get it out when I sat down on the toilet. I tried to relax, but I couldn't concentrate. My mind was filled with images of my brother.

I remember the look on his face when I last saw him at the funeral home. It was a look that reminded me of the rage he used to have when he was a kid, when he tried to steal from me. That's what's going on in my head right now.

After sitting on the toilet for an unknown period of time, I finally managed to get rid of my urge to pee. The moment I lifted my pajamas, I could vaguely hear sounds coming from the entrance.