To keep from being thrown out, and to stop Victor from coming after me, I tore up my Brindleford Academy acceptance letter in front of our parents.I enrolled at the vocational school Victor went to instead, and went back to taking care of him.As the years of paying for his treatment went on, my parents worked longer and longer hours.Most of the housework became mine.I did laundry, scrubbed floors, bought groceries, and cooked to everyone else's taste.Their resistance to me wore down a little at a time under the weight of routine.Even when they slipped and praised me for being responsible, they'd check Victor's face right after.Three years in, Victor had steadied a little and no longer threatened to die every time our parents complimented me in passing.Because of his illness, the family sat for a formal portrait every year on his birthday.I never asked to be in one again.Victor still got suspicious. One day, while our parents were out, he stood over me and demanded a
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