"Not like your brother, one little nudge and he was gone. Did you know he was still coughing up blood at the end? And even then, he kept murmuring about the chicken soup he made for you." Her words sent tremors through my entire body.
Images of my brother's gentle smile and voice filled my mind, "Eleanor, the chicken soup's ready. I've put it in the fridge, be sure to eat it after work."
"Your health isn't great, you need proper nourishment. Don't worry about getting chubby, my sister Eleanor looks cutest with a bit of baby fat."
"Oh, and about your spicy cravings, store-bought ones aren't clean, so I made you a big batch of homemade ones. I put them in the lower-right cabinet by the dining table. Don't feel bad about eating them, okay? Just let me know when you're running out, I'll make more for you."
The pain seared through me as though I'd been doused in acid, burning away every part of me that still allowed me to breathe.
Consumed with rage, I struck Joanne across the face, "You are a murderer, Joanne!"