Chloe stormed over aggressively.

She slapped the little girl hard across the face.

"Where did this little punk come from, talking nonsense?" she yelled.

"Did Daniel put you up to this?"

"Where is he?! I'll teach him a lesson myself!"

The girl's parents rushed forward.

Her father put his arm around her protectively.

He glared at Chloe.

"I don't care if you treat your son like dirt!" he yelled.

"But our child is our treasure!"

"How dare you hit her?!"

Seeing a fight was about to start, people nearby rushed to break it up.

They said maybe the child was just mistaken.

Hoping everyone would just calm down and not make a fuss.

My parents shot the girl a dirty look.

Then they pulled my brother Justin into their arms.

"See?" Mom said, stroking his hair.

"Justin would never do such a thing."

Justin visibly relaxed.

Then, he immediately filled his eyes with tears.

He looked incredibly wronged and victimized.

Their hearts ached for him.

They rushed to comfort him.

I was used to this act.

One Christmas, Justin had stolen some holiday treats meant for gifts.

Dad was furious.

Justin shed two perfect tears.

He shifted all the blame onto me.

They didn't even ask me about it.

They just locked me in the study.

For twenty-four hours.

At night, I could hear them laughing in the living room.

They were watching TV, having fun.

I leaned against the study door.

Consumed by darkness and hunger.

Just when I thought this would just blow over, the little girl gathered her courage again.

She shouted.

"I'm not lying!" she insisted.

"Daniel grabbed him back then!"

"You can see if he has scratches on his arm!"

Before Justin could react, Chloe stormed forward.

She sneered.

"Scratches?" she scoffed.

"Such blatant lies."

"Making things up as she goes."

"I'll just show you yourself."

"Then you can apologize to my little brother."

She rolled up Justin's sleeve.

She was confident she'd prove her point.

On his fair arm were several long, angry red scratches.

Everyone fell silent.

All the color drained from Justin's face.

He frantically pulled his sleeve down.

His hands were shaking.

"No!" he stammered.

"I did that myself!"

"Sister, don't listen to her!"

"She's lying!"

Chloe looked stunned.

She froze for a second.

Then she quickly followed Justin's lead.

"Right!" she said, her voice shaky.

"It must be a coincidence."

"My little brother wouldn't even hurt a fly!"

"How could he push his own brother into the sea?"

She seemed to be trying to avoid something terrible.

Desperately trying to convince herself.

And the people around them couldn't stand it anymore.

"What kind of coincidence is that?" someone muttered.

"Your favoritism is insane!"

"He's your brother, but isn't the missing one your brother too?"

"He wouldn't hurt a fly?"

"How old is he?!"

"Does he think he's in a movie?"

"We can't watch this anymore!" someone else yelled.

"Will you please go look for the missing boy?!"

"Do you not care if he's dead?!"

Suddenly, Justin clutched his chest.

He pretended to collapse.

My parents rushed forward to support him.

"We can't stay here," Mom said urgently.

"Justin's not well."

"He can't handle this."

"We should go home now."

This trick again.

He always used his weak health to gain sympathy.

And it always worked.

My soul turned to ice.

Even with a witness who saw him push me into the sea, they still refused to believe it.

I was missing.

Possibly dead.

And they wouldn't even search for me.

They hurried Justin into the car.

My father's hand trembled on the steering wheel.

My mother sat in the passenger seat.

She refused to look back at Justin.

What were they afraid of?

Were they afraid that the son they had doted on for years was a murderer?

The resentment of years boiled over the day I died.

They promised to be good to me forever.

So why wasn't the person who killed me being punished?

Why?

WHY?!