Bustling streets from outside flew through the gap of our apartment window.

I woke up instantly.

Too noisy.

I don't like it.

Too noisy.

I hate this life.

"Hey, you cook something." my sister came out of her room, holding her laptop as usual, typing some shit on her site again.

I mean how could anyone just be a writer because they are writing a bunch of boys and girls kissing then call it a novel after a torture and then some chapter of chasing?

Fucking pathetic.

What kind of life even is that? If I was the girl in her novel, I would go up, take a knife and slit the throat of that fucking scumbag.

"Hey! You gonna cook or not?" she poked my waist with her dirty little feet as I flayed my arm irritably.

"Don't touch me you pig!" I stood up in a grumble, only for my head to be hit by a pillow.. hard.

I clenched my jaw, restraining my impulse to lash out.

Though my sister switched from hitting me using a pillow, to using a vase that's close to her.

With shards shattering and scattering on the ground, her bloodstained hand and my bloodstained head, made my eyes dim, darkly thinking why don't this girl just die.

But I think my sister thinks the same though.

As her cold eyes that landed on me, holding her laptop as if she won't hesitate to use it next to hit me, made me want to also take something to hit her back, but I stopped.

She was the sister I don't want to offend the most, but the sister I want to disappear from my world the most.

"Fix your attitude. I'm your big sister, don't get things on your head just because you got on the special class. Because news flash, your not special. Your still a cook for me here, so now you fucking cook, or I fucking snap that neck of yours. Or would you rather, I use you as my character and let you be known by the whole world?"

She paused, as if remembering something funny, "You know too well what happens after that, right?"

I rolled my eyes at her words, but still obediently obeyed.

I never want to be the subject of her novels.

She was sick in the head.

A psycho.

The queen of psychos?

Maybe that's why my mind becoming psychopathic day by day now.

"...."

I never want to be psychopathic though.

Because it was a hassle, and required extreme strength, and rooted fear.

My phone rang just as I put out the fire, plating the food I cooked and placed it before my sister who started typing again in agitation.

I took a quick peek at the text she wrote, the time that I felt my eyes twitching in extreme disgust and fear.

How could anyone write something like that?

Of course someone with a mind so twisted is the only one that can write something so heart-wrenching, in a disgusting category.

Sometimes, I always think, is she really my sister?

But now my mind is becoming twisted almost at the time I spend with my sister everyday.

Maybe.. I really am his brother, and she was my sister.

Though I don’t know whether I am more twisted than her.

“...”

“Hey, did you do your homework?” my seatmate nudged my arm.

I instantly felt the ick, everything around me was red.

“...”

Why am I being asked such a stupid question first thing in the morning of class?

Am I the class monitor?

“....”

I am in fact, the fucking class monitor.

But since I am the fucking class monitor, isn’t it supposed to be expected that I did my homework…?

Fucking idiots.

I hate idiotic people the most.

They crawl on your skin and won’t be able to be peeled off even if you tried hard to wash them off.

“I did. Did you do your homework?” I ask him, gently reaching out my hand towards him with a smile, though I think it was fake enough for him to wince out and to smile back at me with so much flattery that once again making me feel everything about life is cringe.

Why do people flatter other people so much?

Is their plate not enough that they still had the thought of flattering someone?

It’s so tiring to see them flatter just everyone so they can survive.

I want them gone.

But why don’t they go ahead and do it themselves?

Why do people always want someone else to do the work for them?

Is this world really that worthy to live in?

“...”

“So here’s the thing, Pres…” that smile became even more genuine, his eyes curving in utter flattery that made me want to raise my brows and just ask this guy… are we even that close for you to act like some kind of childish idiot towards me?

But I need to suppress myself from saying such a thing unfortunately.

Because aside from being the class monitor.. I got in this special class because of good virtue.

Heh.

What kind of good virtue.

I just got in because my families had some sort of connections with this school.

Big sisters who graduated cum laude, magna cum laude and even brought so much achievements to the school name. Such a thing really allows some predecessors to follow on some called footsteps.

But I don’t have my big sister's creativity. I don’t fucking have their brains. I can’t just make up some kind of superpowers to overpass what they had achieved for the school right?

But I still need to follow in.

Afterall, I am labeled as the scourge, the disappointment of our surname.

“I didn’t do my homework–well… I did do my homework, but I didn’t finish it on time. So…” my deskmate explained wryly, looking at me with those eyes screaming for help once again.

It’s those eyes again.

Those fucking eyes that looked over to ask for help.

Why do people want help so much?

Is help really such a necessity for people to have?

Why do people—no.

Why do I need to lend a helping hand just because these people asked me to?

“Can I copy your homework for now? I promise that I will do my homework next time.” He clasped both of his hands, pleading.

For now?

He always does it. Again and again. Even if he promised, he will do it all over again.

Promises are never meant to be kept.

So why would I keep my promise that this guy stays off the list of dying accidentally?

Tilting my head, I reached out for my homework inside my bag, giving it to him with both hands, “Then you need to do your homework next time, okay?”

Unfortunately, it can’t happen now.

I’m too shackled by the upbringing my parents and sisters imposed on me.

I still can’t do it.

Because I’m a coward.

A coward hiding inside dark thoughts everyday.

A coward.