Day 382

My parents never saw my little brother like I did.
They thought they had another child, a human child who loved them.
He may have been a child but he sure as hell wasn't human, he just made people think he was.
I even saw how he did it, sneezed on them and some blackish smoke would come out.
After that he was as good as gold in their eyes, no matter what he did.

He came home from school with a mangled cat over one shoulder and out parents said nothing.
Skinned the shrieking mess on the kitchen table and put it in the oven.
I'll never forget how it clawed at the door or the silence that followed.
Dad came in and asked what was cooking.
My brother just smiled and said kitty.

Of course dad thought this was adorable, silly child thinks cats can cook, oh how funny.
I smiled along, I was too scared not to - I've seen what he does, I don't want to be the next one.
The police used to call them animal attacks but I think his influence is wearing off.
They're holding murder investigations now and I hope it gets caught.
At the same time I'm afraid for anyone who dares to call him out.

He knows I'm writing this, I don't know why he's left me alone, why he's letting me live.
I'm not complaining of course, I'm glad to be left alone.
It just makes it so much harder to ignore when he kills in broad daylight.
He just leaves their bodies in the streets, makes someone else carry them into alleys or fields.
I do wonder how many of them, if any, realise what they've been doing.

Recently he's taken to making random people stand outside my locked bedroom door.
I've had to lock it or they stand by my bed and smile, or whisper my name again and again.
The damned brat made our parents change my door so it has a large glass panel at eye level.
All I see when I go to bed or wake up is their smiling faces.
I think he's done with me, this will be it.