I don’t usually post my dreams, but this one was vivid and I remember it, and I woke up with the title of this post burned into my mind, so, I’m going to tell y’all it.
We don’t know how we got our powers. All we know is, we got them at the same time, when I was twenty two and he was twelve. They were incredible powers, too. Reality-bending powers, limited only by our focus and our force of will.
Given the age difference, I didn’t see my brother much. He stayed with our mom, and I had moved out. Plus, as soon as I got my powers, I ended up being a full-time superhero, which didn’t leave much time for family.
Soon, however, he started pushing himself into my life. His power had made him into a spoiled brat, and he started thinking he deserved whatever he wanted. He would try to take my things, even my car, which he couldn’t really drive, even if his power let him open it and start it without the keys.
I put up with his childishness for a while, but the first time he used his power as a weapon against me, transmuting a lightpost into a giant floating sword, I knew he had to be stopped. A quick talk with my mom revealed that she had no control over him anymore, that his obsession with my popularity was far deeper than I realized.
I went from being a full-time hero to being the warden/caretaker of a prison/asylum of one. Keeping my brother’s powers in check proved to be a challenge, even for me. When he threw tantrums, it was all I could do to keep the city from having an earthquake.
Finally, he went from being childish to being evil. He nearly killed the pizza delivery man, and I realized just watching and countering him wouldn’t be enough anymore.
Since our power is genetic in origin, we can stop each other by physically restraining each other. Contact nullifies our power, though in his case he could often still cause minor chaos if I held him, and by holding him, I also weakened my power. I finally hit on an effective, if gruesome, solution.
I soaked a rope in my blood, then tied him up with it, which muffled his power while leaving me free. He struggled against it for a while, and then went completely mad. What little of his power he could use flew all over the place. The furniture came to life, roaring and shaking; the television showed a zombie apocalypse trying to smash through the screen; the lights flickered and whined, and more than a few shattered. My brother, restrained by the red rope, writhed and thrashed, his power even altering him, making him seem like some horrible monster, not the little brother I’d loved since he was born.
His rage lent his power a scope I could not match. I could fix his attacks one at a time, but he lashed out at a dozen things at once. I looked into his mind and saw nothing of what he once was.
Tears in my eyes, I killed him.
Sometimes it sucks to be the good brother.