Personal Narrative Essay: Why My Brother Killed

“My brother did not die in a car crash. My brother was murdered.”
“Mr. Sting, that’s why we are here, to help you accept that your brother died of an unfortunate accident. Your brother was in a horrible car crash and died on impact.”
My counselor, as I called him, was a very blunt man. He did not sugar coat a single thing and he did not hesitate to make me cry. I was a twenty-four year old man and yet here, in his office, I sometimes cried like a baby. He really knew how to get into my head, grab onto my emotions, and manipulate them. Nobody believed me when I said that my brother was murdered. My baby brother was murdered by a despicable younger girl. She was one year younger than him and I am three years older than him. It has been three years since my brother was killed, and I have made it my priority to put a stop to her. Three years of this and my family finally decided to declare me ‘crazy’ and send me to a professional. Here, I will be forced to talk about everything and they will attempt to get me to believe them. To believe the evidence that she ever-so-smartly planted to establish a mirage that my brother had died in a car accident.

I was standing and looking out the window of his office, the one that overlooked the city. The bridge that united our city and the next, over a beautiful body of water that miraculous dolphins