All through my childhood and teenage life, my brother was an asshole. He was 2 years younger then me, and the complete opposite. I was tall, and he was short. I was bullied and picked on in school, he was a bully and picked on people and got into fights all the time. I was hated and had no friends my age, while he was popular and always had a lot of friends his age, and friends that were older then him. At a young age (like 12-13) he started doing drugs. He bragged to me about doing acid and Ecstasy when he was 14, and I told my mom what he said, but she was like "Oh he is just saying that, hes not doing drugs". Whenever I hung out with him, I was always getting angry and stressed about his actions. He would say nasty things to random people trying to get them to fight, and it just made me sick how he was always doing evil negative bullshit things.
This one time we were walking down a street in my neighborhood on our way home from the mall, and he saw a couple of black guys sitting on the front steps of a house we were walking past. Out of nowhere, he goes "Yeah what nigger" really loud, and this one big black guy comes over to us saying "Who the fuck just said that" and my brother and his friend Kenny, both point at me. This big black guy punches me in my face so hard, it knocked me out for a moment. When I came to, I was on the ground with him standing over me talking trash. He was about to hit me again, but one of his friends stopped him saying "Dude he is just a kid" and he got the guy away from me. As we walked home, my brother joked about it and thought it was funny. I was holding back tears and I started walking faster as my brother taunted me saying "aww hes gonna go tell mom". Which I did, and she "spoke to him about it".
Another incident that haunts me, is this one time we were seeing a movie. He sat in the row in front of me with his friend Kenny, and I was behind him. As the movie was playing, he kept tossing popcorn at this guy who was sitting a few rows in front of him. I told him to stop but he just had this smirk of pleasure on his face as he kept doing it. After about 30 minutes, this guy in his 40s stands up shouting "THAT'S IT" and walks toward us saying "WHO THE FUCK KEEPS THROWING THAT POPCORN" and my brother and Kenny point at me, and he starts coming at me. At this point my mom stands up (she was sitting a few rows back, by herself) and yells at the guy and he sits back down, but she never said anything to that piece of shit son of hers. I felt so angry and sick that he almost got me attacked again for something he did, and I was completely embarrassed that my mom had to protect me. I felt weak, pathetic, angry, and stressed...not to mention PURE HATRED for my brother, who got away with it and probably felt invincible.
I had this friend Joe that I had spent almost a year trying to get him to hang out over my house. He liked to stay at his house and would always make excuses when I invited him over. Finally one day he decided to hang out. We were in my basement chilling watching a movie, and my brother comes down. He starts talking to Joe about weed (this was before I started smoking) and Joe had a small bag on him. My brother asks if he can buy some, and Joe says sure. After separating a little bit of it, he tells my brother the price, and my brother starts acting like Joe is trying to rip him off. I told him to either buy it or leave, and he *PUNCHES* Joe right in the face with a right hook and runs away. Me and Joe looked at each other in shock, then I ran after my brother. He had run into living room where my mom was, and I charged him and started swinging at him as my mom jumped in front of him to stop me. She was always acting like he was this innocent little angel and treated me like I was some asshole bully toward him when it was the complete opposite. I pushed her aside and stomped my foot into his chest, and my brother dropped to the ground like he couldn't breath. My mom started screaming at me as I headed back to the basement, when I saw Joe leaving out the front door. My mom picked up the phone about to call the cops when my brother got up and was suddenly fine, but my mom still kept acting like I had done this horrible thing, yelling at me for being twice his size and attacking him. I tried to explain what he did, but she wouldn't hear it. Joe never spoke to me again after that.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the only time he hit one of my friends. One day he decides he is gonna start being an asshole to my best friend Brian, and he starts talking shit to him and trying to get him to fight. Brian didn't want anything to do with him or fight him, and ignored him. This went on for a few days. At one point I shoved my brother and yelled at him to stop, as Brian got up to leave. He left the house and was riding away on his bike and my brother chased him down and punched him a few times. When I went after him, he took off running into the neighborhood and I couldn't catch up. I was fuming and wanted to kill my piece of shit brother, but by the time he came home later that night, I was in my room playing video games and I didn't want to even look at him or deal with it by that point.
Sometime in 1999, I was driving with some friends, and my brother. I turned down this side street and a kid was walking with a backpack on the sidewalk. My brother leaned out the back window and shouted "Fuck you loser" to the kid, and the kid yelled back. My brother went into a rage, yelling at me to stop the car. He was like "That dude just talked shit! Stop the car!" which I did because there was a stop sign, at which point my brother jumped out and ran at the guy, but I was able to catch him and force him back into the car and drive off. He yelled at the dude first, but he acted like he was disrespected and wronged, like he had every right to hurt the kid. What a god damn psychopath.
In 2001, my mom let me take over half the family business. I cleaned offices and made good money. I had my own bedroom, and I used the basement as my entertainment room where I had my TV and Computer. Being the junky piece of shit that he was, my brother started stealing from me. He would go into my entertainment room while I was sleeping, and take games, movies, weed and even cash to support his drug habit (he was into Meth at this point). When I noticed games and movies missing from my collection, I put a lock on the door leading into my area of the basement. A few weeks went by, and I noticed more things missing. I looked at my lock, and noticed some of the screws were a little lose. He was unscrewing it from the wall and then re-screwing it to make it look like it had been locked all night. I went through 2-3 different locks before finally finding one that he couldn't unscrew, but I was still missing stuff even after that. I told my mom but she didn't do anything other then telling him to stop, like that really worked.
On his 19th birthday, he got drunk and was laying on the couch. I had noticed a movie of mine was missing, and confronted him about it. He jumped up off the couch and started swinging at me, I back into the kitchen and he kept coming at me. I was so angry I couldn't even see straight, and I hit him hard as hell. 1 punch to his face and he went stiff, fell backwards and hit his head on the corner of the kitchen counter. Blood started pouring out of his head and my mom freaked out and called the police. She goes "My older son just attacked my young son". She gave me a towel and told me to hold it against his head, I tried but he grabbed my arm and threw it away so I said "Fuck him i hope he dies" and went into my room. Within a few minutes the police were at my house and there was blood all over the kitchen floor. They were gonna arrest me, but when they realized he was drunk, they believed me when I said it was self defense. The cops left without arresting him for underage drinking and my mom ended up taking my brother to the hospital. He had to have staples put in his skull because it was cracked open. I almost killed him with a single punch.
After months and months of this piece of shit breaking into my room and stealing from me, and having to replace locks because he bypassed them, I was stressed constantly about it and had a lot of trouble sleeping because I kept thinking he was gonna go into my room once I went to bed. One night I pretended to be asleep when I heard the basement door (the one at the top of the steps in the first floor hallway, not my door with the lock on it in the basement). I got up and went over to the basement and threw open the door and turned the light on and I saw my brother sticking out of the bottom steps with his upper torso sticking out and his legs under them. He had pried open the wood at the bottom of the steps, and was going under them to get into my room. He smiled with his typical sociopathic smirk and went back into his room feeling no guilt or shame at all. I got out a hammer and nails and used like 20 to nail down the wood tight. A few days later I saw the nails had been pried out and he attempted to nail them back in but they were all fucked up. He was still getting in there even after all that, so I loaded a bunch of boxes (they were filled with all kinds of storage) under the steps and made it impossible for him to get in. Finally I was free of him stealing from me...
At this point in my life, I was so sick of this jerk, that I avoided him at all costs. I would walk through a room where he was hanging out with 7-10 friends of his (he always had a lot of friends, and they were always hanging out in large groups) and I could feel this horrible negative energy in the room, because his friends were always looking at me with disgust and hatred. It got to the point where I couldn't even pass through a room if they were in it. I would wake up at 1-2pm and have to use the bathroom, but I could hear them in the next room so I stayed in bed holding it in. I once held it for so long it started to hurt, and I kept holding it waiting for them to leave so I could get to the bathroom. After that I kept a large soda bottle in my room, and I used it many times (I dumped it and rinsed it out to reuse every time). This went on for over a year, then sometime around April/May of 2003, I was in a car with my friend Matt and his girlfriend Shiloh, and Matt says "Dude, do you know your brother has been telling people he found child porn on your computer?" I was like "You can't be serious" and Matt says "Yeah he has been saying it for a long time. He tells everyone whenever he drinks"...
I realized that was why his friends always gave me those nasty looks, and why I could feel this nasty negative energy whenever I walked passed them. I didn't even confront him about it, I just continued to ignore him. One day I was going through my video tapes from all the home movies I use to record with Brian, and I saw this video of my neighbor in her pool. We had this neighbor named Sandy, and apparently my brother had used the camera to record her from his bedroom while she was swimming. I recorded over it because it freaked me out and I didn't want to just throw out a perfectly good tape. When he found out a recorded over it, he must have been pissed because one day I walked out of the bathroom and he was there, he says "I told Sandy about that video you record of her in the pool" and I was like "You made that video you piece of shit" and he took a swing at me, hitting me in my ear, then he run out of the house like the coward he was. I felt sick, and I wanted to go tell Sandy the truth, but I didn't think she would believe me. I was hated by all his friends and they all looked at me like I was this sick pedophile, and I felt like she would just be grossed out with me talking to her. I assume he told her because he was afraid I was gonna tell her first, but I was not planning to...
In July 2003, I bought a game called 'Knight of the old republic' on Xbox. I played the game every day for about a week and was pretty far. While playing the game one day, I ran out of iced tea, so pulled the game out of my Xbox and put it into the case and back on my shelf. I went to 7-11 and got some more iced tea, and drove home looking forward to playing more of the game. I went into my basement, and realized I forgot to close/lock the door, and the game wasn't there. I looked around the house for my brother, who was home when I went to the store, but now he wasn't home. He came back home after about 20 minutes and I demanded that he give me the game or I was gonna call the cops. He just smirked and went into his room. This cop shows up and I tell him what happens, he goes to my brother and says "If you have the game you need to give it back to him, or I can charge you with theft". My brother denies taking it, and the cop asks to see my room. He starts searching my room really hard, looking around my computer, TV, pretty much everywhere, and he ALMOST found the weed I had hidden on a small ledge above the inside of my closet door. He told me there was nothing he could do and left. I then called my mom, and she told him if he didn't return the game, he would be kicked out of the house, so he had her drive him to his friend Chris's house and he ran in and got the game and gave it to her. She came home with it and I felt a ton of relief.
Sometime in August 2003, I noticed I was missing $20 from my wallet. My mom was in the kitchen with her boyfriend Mark, and I walked in and told her I was missing money, and I said it must have been my brother who took it. He then came out of his room and we started arguing with me. He says "Maybe I should tell mom what you have on your computer then, sicko" and I tried to attack him but he ran into his room and shut the door, and shouted "He has child porn on his computer". My mom and her boyfriend looked shocked, and I ran into my room crying and screaming and punching things. I was on full blown mental breakdown at this point, and I started seriously thinking about killing my brother and then myself. I talked to her about how he was going around telling people that horrible thing, and she said she would talk to him. She went into his room and I could her them through the door so I stood there and listened. She says "Why are you telling people that nasty thing about your brother" and he goes "Because its true and he deserves it". She says "You know hes not looking at that stuff", and he goes "Maybe not anymore, now that I scared him straight". Then my mom says "Even if he is looking at that stuff on the computer, you act like he is going around raping little girls. He is not a monster and you need to stop saying that"...I was disgusted hearing that. She continues to treat him like he is some 12 year old little innocent angel, and now she was even thinking that maybe what he was saying was true, and I just felt so depressed and suicidal, but then again I always feel that way.
Having that rumor out there, and knowing that he spent over 2 years telling people, just made me sick. I knew how fast rumors spread, and I knew everyone that ever knew me, heard it. I also knew that most of them probably believed it, after all it was my own brother saying that he found it on my computer. On top of that I was already hated and known as a weirdo, so yeah, they believed it. I was still recovering from 12 years of being bullied in school, but I was doing much better as the years went on, but now I felt terrified every time I left my house, and the anxiety I felt just going to 7-11 was now the same that I felt every day that I went to school, all because of a my fucking meth head brother. I found out years later that he had spread another rumor besides that one. He also told everyone that my dad molested us...He was so fucking mental, he WANTED people to think he had been molested, even though he wasn't.
In October of 2003, we had a lot of our stuff packed up in boxes around the house because we were moving at the end of the month. I got up one day and took a shower, and I heard my bedroom door open and close. After the shower I went into my room, and opened my wallet and there was no cash in it. The day before, my mom had given me 2 $100 bills that I broke for her with 20s. My brother went into my room and took both bills and left. I called my mom and she drove us over to where he was (at his friend Chris's house). He admitted to taking it, and she finally had enough, and she kicked him out. He went off to live with friends, and me and my mom moved to Philly. I never saw him again after that day, but I kept hearing about him over the years. First he lived with some friends, and got kicked out. Then he lived with my grandma, and got kicked out after a few months. He then moved to Arizona to live with my dad, and after about a year, my dad received an eviction warning because of my brother, so he sent my brother on a bus back to Pennsylvania. He was homeless for a while, and did halfway house stuff. At one point my mom told me he wrote me a letter, and asked if I wanted to read it. I said no, and she said "so your never gonna forgive him" and I said "Never". She gave me the note anyway, and I burned it without looking at it. He tortured my mom and dad from 2004-2017 until the day he overdosed and died. When my mom told me he was dead, I felt this huge weight lifted off my shoulders. Its not like it cured my anxiety or anything, but I was glad that my parents could now be free of that stress he caused them and enjoy their lives...
