I never thought I'd see the world again.
When the gates of the prison clanged shut behind me, I thought I had died long ago, and this… this was just a cruel afterlife that dragged on.
7 years—7 years of replaying the same memory until it carved holes in my mind.
7 years of Martin's face haunting me every time I closed my eyes.
My elder brother..… no, the better one, the brighter one, the loved one.
And I was the one who killed him.
The state gave me a new name when I was released.
"Rehabilitation," they called it.
"A second chance."
They gave me papers, a bed in a shabby apartment, and told me I could start over.
But how do you start over when your very hands are drenched in your brother's blood?
I lived quietly, like a ghost pretending to be human.
I avoided people, avoided mirrors, avoided sleep.
Nights were worst.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Martin.
Of his smile.
Of the way he tried to talk to me and I shut him out.
Of the jealousy that festered inside me until it became a monster I couldn't control.
Sometimes, I held a knife to my wrist.
Sometimes, I stood on my balcony and thought of stepping off.
Every time I whispered to myself, I don't deserve this life.
And every time I saw his face behind my eyelids, crying.
One night, the city felt too heavy.
I went out, wandering with no destination.
The streets glowed with neon and laughter, but it all sounded distant, like I was underwater.
My body moved, but my soul was dragging chains.
And then—I froze.
She was there. My old neighbor.
The one who had lived beside us all those years.
The one who told my brother's story after he died.
The one who was pleading to the police when they were taking me away.
Mrs Jessy.
She hadn't aged much; her eyes still looked heavy, like she carried all our sins.
I wanted to run, vanish into the shadows.
But before I could, she saw me and rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me.
She cried.
She clung to me as if she feared I'd disappear.
"oh Kain, am so happy to see you again- How are you now?" Oh thank god"
She wailed.
I couldn't answer.
My lips trembled, my body stiffened.
And then I forced a helpless smile—the kind you give when you're breaking inside—and whispered:
"am not okay, aunty, I don't deserve this. I deserve to die for what I did."
She pulled back, her tears shining under the streetlights.
She didn't argue. Instead, she took my hand, led me to a bench at the edge of the park and we both sat in silence.
I broke the silence asking why she is in the city and she told me her health wasn't doing well in the countryside so her husband decided to move here.
I smiled helplessly, because i know it was because me that she's like this.
Because of what i did 7 years ago.
I wanted to cry again, but she suddenly placed a small bag in my lap.
I gave her a confuse look.
"please, read this when you get home," she said softly.
Then she left me there with the weight of my guilt heavier than before.
At home, I opened the bag.
Inside was a diary.
The cover was worn, the edges frayed.
My heart stopped when I saw the name scrawled in the corner.
Martin.
My heart began to race.
My hands shook as I turned the first page.
And then I began to cry.
Page after page, my brother poured out his heart.
He wrote about me.
About how much he wanted to be close to me again, but how my coldness cut him every time he tried.
He wrote about the depression he hid behind his perfect grades, the anxiety that ate him alive every time our parents placed more expectations on his shoulders.
He wrote about how he wanted to become a doctor—not just for herself, not just for our parents' pride—but to earn enough to help me.
To escape the house we were trapped in and build a life where we could finally laugh together, free.
"Kain," he had written in neat cursive,
"I know you think I shine brighter than you.
But I only shine because you're the reason I fight.
I want us to be close again.
I want us to leave this place, together.
Please, don't hate me forever."
I dropped the diary and screamed.
I tore through my apartment, smashing everything in reach.
The lamp shattered, glass spraying across the floor.
I ripped my clothes, overturned my desk, broke the mirror.
I screamed until my throat burned raw.
Because now, at last, I knew the truth.
I killed the only person who ever wanted to save me.
________________
The next day, I went back to the park.
Mrs Jessy was there, sitting on the same bench, as if she knew I'd return.
"Where did you get this book?" I demanded.
She looked at me with sad eyes.
"Your parents… they gave away Martin's belongings to charity.
I was able to keep that before it vanished too."
I was silent.
Then I asked, "And…. my things?"
She hesitated. "…They burned them. Years ago."
My chest ached.
My whole body shook.
"do you think they will want me back?" i asked softly.
But i already know the answer.
She gave me a sad look, " you still have hope?" she asked.
I shook my head, of course not, they will never accept the murderer of their beloved child.
Never.
We both fell silent.
After a long pause, I whispered, "What do you think Martin would say about me now?"
Mrs Jessy looked away, then leaned closer.
"There's something you need to know.
Your parents… they never loved Martin as a son.
I looked at her with shock, " what are you saying?"
She sighs, "he was an object, a trophy.
They only praised him because he was smart.
They never saw his heart.
And you, Kain—you were invisible because you didn't fit their picture of success."
Her words tore through me like knives.
I sobbed, covering my face.
She wrapped her arms around me and whispered, "Don't cry. Just….. live on."
But I shook my head. "I don't deserve it. I'm a murderer. A jealous freak."
And that was the truth.
She pulled me back, her voice trembling with anger.
"No! All Martin ever wanted was to earn enough to escape that house with you! He wanted you to be happy, Kain.
That was his dream. And mine too!!"
" I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not stopping it, for not helping when you were both being crushed by your parents' lies. I should have done more….i should have done more!"
Her body trembled as she broke down in front of me.
For the first time, I saw how much she too had carried, silently.
I held her gently and whispered, "It's alright. Back then… we were happy when you gave us apple pie. That's enough."
She stare at me for a moment before laughing through her tears.
Together we sat in silence once more, watching children run through the park.
Their laughter hurt, but it also healed.
After a while, I asked softly, "What kind of doctor did Martin want to be?"
She smiled faintly. "One that helps children."
I laughed bitterly. "Of course he did. He always had a soft spot for kids."
We sat there, our memories weaving into the night.
Then I asked the question that gnawed at my soul: "Do you think Martin is happy with me now?"
Her answer was sharp, certain: "Of course not. No elder sibling wants to watch his brother destroy himself. He wanted to save you, Kain"
I froze, the weight of years pressing down on me.
"but i kill-"
"it was not your fault " she cuts me off,
" and Martin would agree with my statement "
"….."
He would agree?
Thinking of my brother's smile and kindness, i realise that it might be true.
But…..
I looked at her, her eyes were firm and unshakeable, she really meant it.
I burst into a hard laugh.
She didn't look shock, maybe because she knows that i understand.
I stopped and stood up from the bench, looking her in the eye and said with a smile,
"Then I'll change….. I'll build his legacy"
i stood in front of her,
"But… will you help me?"
I finally made up my mind.
For a moment, she was silent.
Then she laughed, tears spilling again.
She stood and hugged me tightly.
"Yes. I'll help you. Always."
I couldn't help but to cry again,
"thank you"
____________
Ten years passed.
Ten years of clawing my way out of the abyss.
I studied, I trained, I worked until my body broke, and then I worked more.
The guilt never left me, but I learned to use it as fuel.
Every day, I carried Martin's diary in my bag, his words burning into me like scripture.
And slowly, I became the doctor he wanted to be.
First in the city.
Then abroad.
I earned recognition, not for myself, but for him.
And one day, I stood before a gleaming new hospital, scissors in my hand, tears in my eyes.
On the plaque by the entrance, engraved in shining letters, were the words:
"The Martin Foundation – For the Children"
The fifth hospital.
The last one.
The final piece of his dream.
Beside me stood Aunty Jessy, my family now.
She held my hand as the ribbon was cut, and the crowd cheered.
Cameras flashed.
But all I saw was Martin's face.
I whispered under my breath, "brother, I'm sorry. I'll keep going. For you."
And for the first time in years, I smiled—not out of pride, not out of joy, but out of love.
Because even though guilt will haunt me until my last breath, I finally understood Martin's final wish.
He didn't want me to die.
He wanted me to live.
And I will carry his words for the rest of my life.
It taught me in the hardest way—that jealousy destroys, that neglect poisons, that silence kills.
But it also taught me that redemption, though fragile, is possible.
To anyone listening: see your siblings.
Love them, before your house becomes a graveyard of regrets.
Because sometimes, the person you think is your rival is the only one who ever wanted to save you.
Stream Commentary; Tape #31 "It Taught Me in The Hardest "
[Kai returns]
Well forks, that was a bittersweet ending, don't you think ?
[@Ovesix:Bittersweet indeed that's the word. Kain destroyed himself, but he clawed his way back.That diary—Martin's words—they saved him when no one else could.
Redemption doesn't erase sin, but it gives meaning to pain. And the neighbor… she's proof that kindness at the right moment can change everything]
[@Jaija: sniff…I cried, I cried like a baby. Kain hugging that diary, breaking everything in his apartment… it hurt me.
But then—he didn't give up! He built hospitals in Martin's name! Hospitals! That's like… a superhero origin story, but sadder.
Ugh. My chest feels heavy but warm.]
[@642: Don't talk to me about warmth.
I want to tear those parents apart. Burn their smug faces, shred their pride. They made Martin into a trophy and Kain into a ghost. They didn't deserve any children —they deserved graves and hell. If it weren't for them, none of this would've happened. They're the true monsters.
Ooh, if only i am allow to shed blood again]
[@Ovesix: The neighbor said it, didn't she? Martin wasn't loved as a son—only as an ornament. That's what broke him. That's what broke Kain too.What haunts me most is not the act of killing… but the silence that led to it. Neglect, pressure, inferiority—they rot families from the inside out. And parents… parents can be executioners without ever lifting a hand]
[@Enchomay Yet in the ashes, something lived. Kain didn't end himself.He chose Martin's dream instead.That's… beautiful. Twisted, tragic, but beautiful. A life rebuilt not on self-interest, but on guilt transfigured into purpose. Sometimes… only pain is strong enough to build monuments]
(Kai leaned back, exhaling a laugh that isn't quite joyful)
"You've all said it.
Delight, sadness, anger, forgiveness denied… that's the essence of being human, isn't it?
We are creatures of contradiction.
We hurt the ones we love, then build statues for them when they're gone.
But let's not sugarcoat this.
Kain's redemption doesn't excuse his crime.
His parents' cruelty doesn't excuse their neglect.
And Martin's dream doesn't erase the tragedy of his death.
That's the horror of it all—you don't get a clean ending in life.
You only get what you make out of the rubble.
(Sighs)
If you're listening out there—don't let jealousy or neglect be the architect of your family.
Siblings aren't rivals. They're lifelines.
And if you fail to see that, you may end up holding a diary filled with love letters you can never answer.
Remember this, dear viewers— never assume time is on your side.
The people you neglect today could become the regrets you cannot outrun tomorrow."
(straightening up, his goggled eyes reflecting a static-filled grin)
"Now, before the taste of tears settles too long on your tongue, it's time to move on.
Our next story crawls right into the question that haunts us all…
When everyone smiles at you, when everyone promises safety—how do you know who's lying?
Up next… 'Who Should I Trust?'"
Bye ~
STREAM ENDED