My name is Liu. This is not the story of how I died. My death is merely a single part of these words. No, this is the story of my brother, Jeff, from my view, since the beginning of his life and the end of mine.

Contrary to popular belief, I was the eldest brother, by two years. My parents wanted me to have a sibling for company. Although I do not remember seeing Jeff as a newborn, we had several pictures up in the house. Jeff's hair had been lighter than mine, getting darker of the years. Of course, now it is a burned, black mass, but we'll come to that later.

My earliest memory of Jeff was when he was about five years old. I'd run off into the woods nearby, with a friend of mine. Jeff was a clingy child and followed me, getting lost. I remembered hearing his sobs, calling out my name. I remembered scooping him up into my arms and telling him it was alright, just like an older brother should.

As years went on, Jeff became quite an attractive boy, unlike myself. His dark brown hair was so neat, yet so wild and his eyes were the most beautiful shade of blue. My hair was just a nest and my eyes were a dull green. Despite that, Jeff always used to say that I was the better looking out of both of us. He was so kind; a heart of pure gold. A smile was constantly on his face. It was such a fulfilling sight, and kept me happy for many years.

Then, everything changed. Jeff suddenly started becoming paranoid, but he would say he was fine. It worried me, but I let him keep his secrets. Everybody has one.

Everything was broken when Randy came into the equation. Jeff became violent and dark-hearted. His mind was twisted and contorted. I will never forgive Randy, Keith or Troy. But I will also never forgive myself. Was I not a good enough big brother? I should have beaten up those kids while I had a chance. I should not have backed down, even when they pulled knives on us. Maybe, just maybe… It would have saved Jeff from his terrible fate.

I took the blame for Jeff's defensive attack on the group. I spent a couple of days in a JDC, wandering if Jeff was ok. I could only envision him mentally distraught. It saddened me, but I held onto my remaining hope.

After a few days, I got let out and taken to the hospital that Jeff had been put in. I was told of the events of Billy's party and how Jeff was set alight. My mind filled with grotesque images of Jeff's burning flesh and his screams. I had shuddered, wanting to cry for my brother, but a big brother has to be strong, so I held my emotions tight.

Of course, I could not have prepared for the sight of Jeff. His beautiful blue eyes were just… nothing. White, with a tiny pinhole of black for a pupil. His lips were redder than any blood. His skin was as white as paper. My parents and the doctor suspected overuse of drugs when he began his cackling fit. I knew it was something deeper. I tried to talk to him when we got home. I asked if he was alright.

"Me? Never better!" He had said, but he sounded so off and false. I asked if he was hurting. He had said he was fine, his voice like a song.

That night, he killed our parents, burning off his eyelids and cutting a permanent smile into his face. I remember hearing the noise, but returning to my sleep. I really wished I hadn't. I remember Jeff above me, sliding the knife into my chest. I remember staring into his eyes, seeing the madness in them. I remember the tears running down my cheeks as I died. I remember thinking that I was not a good enough big brother. The last thing I saw, was Jeff run from the room, blood everywhere. I remember weakly calling out for my brother. I wanted him by my side, even though he was the one to kill me. I wanted him to take away my pain.

But he never returned, and I died a lonely death. I can only wander if Jeff has come back to the house to visit my remains. Maybe he will apologise. Maybe he will bury me. Maybe he will simply remember the night I died.

I just hope he remembers how much I love him.