After My Brother's Tragic End, I Went on a Rampage

Nicholas's POV

Smiling, I counted the candy wrappers my brother left me.

They claimed I was sick, so they confined me in a psychiatric hospital. The windows were sealed shut with iron bars, resembling prison cells masquerading as treatment. Every time Cameron visited, he pressed his face against those cold metal rods, his eyes crinkling like crescent moons.

“Nick, the peach blossoms by the road? Full bloom today!”

Even when I stayed silent, he never stopped talking.

He’d fill every visit with stories, joy, and dumb little things that made him laugh, like he was trying to drag me out of that place with words alone.

The last time I saw him, he had that same dumb, bright smile.

“Nick, I’m getting married! On my wedding day, I’ll have Mom livestream it for you. Make sure to tell me if I look sharp in the tux!”

But before the vows were even finished, he was gone.

I snapped.

Right then, I went to the hospital director, wrapped a restraint strap around his neck, and didn’t let go until he signed my discharge papers.

Anyone who touched my brother was going to pay for it.

I’d make sure every single one of them died.

...

After handling the funeral arrangements, I came home with Cameron’s urn clutched in my arms.

At that moment, the front door swung open with a violent kick.

Trevor entered, his arm intertwined with Kylie's as she walked confidently in high heels.

A smug grin spread across his face.

“Well, well,” he said with mock surprise, “if it isn’t the dearly departed Mr. Knight?”

Kylie’s eyes flicked to the urn in my arms, her expression faltering just a little.

But when she got a good look at my face, the softness vanished.

“Cameron, really?” Kylie snapped. “You’ve sunk this low? Pulling a stunt like this to squeeze out some sympathy?”

Trevor leaned into her, laughing like the whole thing was some sick comedy he’d seen a hundred times.

“All Kylie did was send you to a monastery for a few days. And what did you do?” Trevor said with a mocking grin. “You hurt the master and come dragging back with a damn urn like you’re some tragic victim.”

He jerked his chin at the urn, sneering like it was beneath him.

“What is this, huh? You gonna use this pathetic little box to sucker Kylie into showing up at some fake funeral?”

He lunged forward and reached for the urn. “Come on, let me see. What trash heap did you fish this out of?”

I stepped aside without a word.

He lost his footing and stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the floor.

“Cameron!” Kylie snapped, her voice sharp and cutting like a slap. “How long are you planning to drag this charade out? Faking your death wasn’t dramatic enough—now you’re even pushing Trevor too?”

Trevor rubbed his ankle, feigning wounded pride, but a smug glimmer flickered in his eyes.

“I know Cameron’s still holding a grudge about the wedding. Kylie, please don’t blame him. It’s my fault. All of it…”

Kylie’s face hardened, her tone turning cold. “Cameron, apologize to Trevor. Now.”

I stood there without flinching, my grip steady on the urn cradled in my arms.

Mom, still in her wheelchair, rolled herself in front of me like a wall, her voice erupting with fury.

“Get out! You’re not welcome in this house!”

Kylie’s face contorted with anger.

She stormed over and grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging in. “So this is what passes for parenting in the Knight family? This is how you raised your son? If you still won’t admit you were wrong, someone get in here and drag him out. He doesn’t return until he learns how to act like a decent human.”

I yanked my arm free and gave her a slow, cold smile. “Fine.”

Honestly, I had been wondering how I would find the people responsible for my brother’s death. It turns out I didn’t need to go looking. They walked right through the front door.

Kylie blinked, caught off guard by how easily I gave in.

I walked over to the altar and gently placed the urn down. My fingers traced the photo's edges, resting on top—Cameron’s face frozen in a bright, innocent smile.

Just like when we were kids, he would shove a piece of candy into my hand, his grin beaming with warmth and sweetness.

As I turned to leave, Mom reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Nick,” she said my name softly, her voice laced with reluctance.

I rested my hand over hers and gave it a light pat.

She let out a long, heavy sigh and slowly let go.

“Go.”

I gave her a slight nod and followed Kylie out of the house without another word.

Trevor was already sitting in the front passenger seat.

The second I climbed into the back and closed the door, he piped up like a whiny kid.

“Kylie, something’s in my eye.”

She leaned close to him without hesitation, blowing gently toward his face. Their noses nearly touched, and for a second, their breath mingled like they were the only two people in the world.