Patrick was my stepmother's son. On the seventh day of my mother's death, even though we were still in the mourning hall, my father pressed my head to accept this brother who was one year younger than me.
He was like a lingering ghost, unable to tolerate all the beauty around me. He took away what could be taken away and destroyed what couldn’t be taken away.
Five years ago, Rachel would protect me with her slender body and scold Patrick coldly. Now, the person in front of me was still that person. But she stood in front of Patrick and threw out a stack of money with disdain on her face.
"You've done so much just for the money, pick it up."
The sharp paper scratched my forehead. A tiny drop of blood came out, I didn't wipe it off, but I saw a subtle nervousness in Rachel's eyes.
The next second, I bent down.
She was relieved and laughed mockingly, "Is that right? A licker should act like a licker..."
I picked up the watch thrown in the corner from a pile of red banknotes.
Rachel stared at me in disbelief and a sense of panic arose in her heart for no reason.