He was always the favourite.

Everyone loved him more.

I stared in the mirror, comparing how different I looked from a few years ago to now. My snow white hair used to be slightly puffed and healthy looking, now it was lightly coated in grease from me not taking a shower in a few days. What was the point in showering? The only time I ever got wet now is if I'm washing my cuts off. My wine coloured eyes used to be so lively, hold so much happiness, now they're sunken, dull, and tired. I haven't slept in days, I can't sleep anymore. My head is always buzzing with thoughts, how can I sleep when I can't stop thinking? So many thoughts run through my head at night, it's almost impossible to keep my pride and not breakdown crying. My pale body was still very pale, but now held slashes of red almost everywhere. My chest was cut, my legs, wrists, even lower back. Some new, some scarred. I've lost a lot of weight, now that I look at myself. Well, it doesn't matter...I grabbed my long sleeve shirt off of the ground and slid it on with ease. I was glad I started wearing baggy shirts for two reasons, one, no one can see how skinny I've gotten, and two, it doesn't rub against any of my cuts. I sighed as I looked in the mirror one last time, time to fake the act again.

"Hey Lud, dad, how are you two doing this awesome day?" I shouted as I slid into the kitchen with my socks. They were black and white striped fuzzy socks, so I slid pretty far. Far enough to slam my hip against the corner of the stone counter. Pain automatically shot through my body as I collapsed to the ground, I silently cried out as I held my hip. I can't cry out loud, that would show weakness. I can't let my father think I'm weak, well more weak than he thinks I already am. Once the pain slightly subsided, I shot up off the ground and pointed a thumb at my chest, grinning widely. I slightly leaned against the counter so that way my hip would have less stress on it. "No worries I'm fine!" I looked at the two sitting at the table, neither of them looked up from what they were doing. My brother, Ludwig was sitting across from Father, reading a stupid book. While Father was reading a stupid newspaper.

My smile slightly faltered, but didn't go away. I slid over to my brother, and wrapped my pale arm around his broad shoulders, he didn't look away from the book he was reading. He's been reading that book for days, I wonder when he'll finish it. "Ludwig c'mon want to go outside and play an awesome game?" I pouted, slightly shaking him, only to get a sigh of annoyance in return. I almost poked his face, but heard a loud thud from where Father was sitting. I slightly jumped, and glanced over at him. His fist was the source of the loud thud, he slammed it on the table. "Stop pestering your brother, Failure." He said, his voice slightly tainted with annoyance. I lifted my arm off of his shoulder, and grinned. "Ah, I was just messin around." I shrugged, his cold blue eyes glared into my tired red ones. After a small staring contest, he finally looked back at his newspaper.

I laughed loudly, and pumped my fist in the air. "The awesome me won the staring contest! I deserve an awesome awa-" I was cut off by my father giving another cold glare. I never knew why, but that glare always made me feel uncomfortable and caused me to shut up, as if he was mentally transmitting a message that told me to do so. I held my hands up, and turned towards the fridge. My hip still slightly throbbed, but not as much as it did before. "Don't touch the alcohol." My brother said, I slightly looked back at him, and rolled my eyes. "C'mon Lud, I'm over twenty I can make my own decisions." I said, sticking my tongue out as I opened the fridge. "Listen to your brother, Failure." Father spat, I looked back at him, and made a face. Did he really just tell me to listen to my younger brother? Anger boiled inside of me as I blurted out one sentence. "He's my younger brother, dad, why do I have to listen to him?"

Time seemed like it stopped at that moment. I widened my eyes once I realised my mistake. I felt my heart pick up its pace when my father slowly looked up from his newspaper. We locked eye contact, I swallowed roughly as I gave a small smile. "Ah, yeah, totally I'll just go upstairs, not touching the alcohol." I quickly said, scratching the back of my head as I almost ran out of the kitchen. "Stop." I inhaled sharply as I slowly turned to look at my father. His expression was cold, and unforgiving. "You dare talk back to me?" He said, slowly closing the newspaper, and setting it on the table. Ludwig slightly looked up from his book, but only pushed up his glasses and kept on reading. Of course he wouldn't help me, why would he help his older brother. I took a slow breath, and stared at Father. You know what? I'm sick of this, what's the worst thing that could happen? "I didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out." I said defensively, oh little did I know how big of an argument I would get in.

"You spoiled brat, you're nothing but a pathetic excuse for a son." He spat, I angrily groaned and slapped my hand on his chest, pushing him back a little. "Look at you! You think you're the best dad in the world but you're not! You've shoved me down over and over since I could remember, you've insulted me, hurt me, but what does Ludwig get? None of that! You never hurt Ludwig!" I shouted, my strident voice was now tremulous. His eyes widened as he slapped my arm down, causing me to wince at the pain. I felt a warm liquid drip down my arm, and bit my lip. Great, some of them are open now. It didn't rise, or lower my anger at him though. "Don't talk about your brother in that way. I treat-" Before he could finish, I shot my hands up, and gripped them in my air, I grinned widely as I walked in a small circle. "Oh here we go, you talking about how you treat us the same." I stopped walking and looked at him. "Listen up old man, I know the truth. I've known it for a while, I might seem like an idiot, but I'm not. You hate me don't you? I'm not perfect enough to be classified as your son. Even since he was born, I saw the look in your eyes every time you looked at him. You were proud of him. Even at his mistakes you were proud to call him your son. Is it because I'm albino? I'm not blond and don't have perfect blue eyes? Is it because I'm not as strong as him? Is it because I'm not an exact copy of you!?" I shouted, tears brimmed my eyes.

No one spoke, it would have been completely silent if it hadn't been for my heavy breathing. My father closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth to speak, but I grabbed his shoulders and roughly shook him. "No, Brandolf Beilschmidt look at me in the eyes and tell me what it is. Does my own father hate me?" I growled the question, though I was close to tears. The long blond haired man slowly opened his eyes, I stared into them. "Tell me." I whispered, gripping his shoulders tighter, though, due to the fact that I've lost weight, it probably wasn't very tight. I clenched my jaw when he didn't speak immediately, it was something he should be able to talk about simply and quickly. "I don't hate you." He pulled away from my grip, and turned to walk back at the table, Ludwig left a long time ago to avoid getting into the argument. I almost grabbed him again, but saw his eyes staring at me from the side. "I despise you."

I froze and widened my eyes. Ever so slowly, I turned my head to look at him. "You're fucking with me right? You can't loathe your own son. I'm your first born." I said, I felt like I knew it. I thought I was prepared to hear it. But I wasn't. Hearing my own father say that he despised me, after everything I've ever done to please him. I tried so hard when I was a child to try to please him. I went out hunting when he was asleep on fathers day, I gave him my favourite sword when his broke, I tried so hard to get his approval. I nearly died multiple times trying to get him to at least smile at me, but he never did. My eyes filled with tears as I backed up slightly. "You're not my son, you've never been my son. You're just a mistake." My throat tightened as I stumbled back, I felt my eyes water, but tried to keep the tears from falling. "Mistake." I whispered to myself as I spun on my heels, and ran up the stairs.

Once I got into my room, I slammed the door shut and quickly locked it. My heart throbbed as an involuntary sob chocked out of my throat. I quickly stumbled to my desk, pulled out the chair, and shoved it in front of the doorknob, making it harder for anyone on the outside to open it. My knees felt weak, I felt lightheaded. I collapsed on my bed, which luckily for me wasn't far from the door. Though my legs were hanging off, I didn't care. I just let myself sink into the soft mattress, the sheets smelled freshly of flowers. I washed them just the other day...they're so soft. Soon, I pulled myself up on the bed, and laid flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. Tears fell freely from my eyes. I let go of my pride...not that there was much left of it after the argument. I don't know how long I stared at the ceiling, but it felt like hours. I felt so empty, as if I was nothing but a ghost inhabiting a hollow doll. I didn't bother cleaning up my arm, who cares if the blood gets everywhere?

I'm nothing but a pathetic excuse for a son. Everything I've ever done was nothing but a mistake. I shouldn't have been born, I should have died a long time ago. I'm just an obnoxious idiot who can't even get his own father to like him. I thought I had nothing left to cry, but my eyes felt wet once more. My own brother probably hates me too doesn't he? I mean if my father likes him more, of course he could talk bad about me to him, he probably thinks I'm just an awful person. I'm just a mistake. He's the perfect child. He's tall, blond, blue eyes, strong, he's just the perfect person. I'm nothing but a failure. While he's so quite and scholar-like, I'm just loud and annoying. I shouldn't have of been born, I shouldn't live. My father, and brother hate me. My friends hate me. Did I even have friends? Probably not. I'm a nuisance, a pathetic pathetic nuisance. I don't deserve to live.

I slowly blinked and sighed. Maybe I shouldn't live. I held up my arms, and looked at my wrists. My baggy sleeves slid down my arms, my left wrist wasn't bleeding anymore, but there was a bunch of dry blood stained my pale skin and shirt. I lolled my head to the side, my glazed over eyes stared at the bathroom door. I guess...there's nothing left to do but this. My life has no meaning anymore, I'm just a mistake. I rolled to my side, and slowly sat up. My body ached, but I ignored it and forced myself to stand up. I guess this is the only thing that will get Fathers attention, right? No, he wouldn't care...yes he would. He would care if I died...

He would care because that means that his pathetic excuse for a son is dead, and his pride and joy is now his only son. He doesn't have to deal with my loud voice every day, he doesn't have to deal with my mistakes anymore. He doesn't have to deal with me anymore. All of my random mishaps, like the time I tried to microwave a fork with ice to see if it would still blow up. I gave a small smile. Oh that was the good old times. Back when I still had the hope that he would accept me. I was so young and innocent. As I walked to the bathroom, I started thinking about the past. I remember one time I switched out Ludwig's hair gel with glue. I put plastic wrap on the doorway, and ran under it, and when Ludwig chased me he got a face full of plastic. Once Father found out he grounded me for two weeks.

I remember this one girl I used to play with when I was really young. I wish I could remember he face and name, but all I remember about her was that she always hit me. I could never tell if she was serious about it or not, but concerting how she always played with me after I never took offence to it. I wish she was still here. She moved to another country years and years ago. She was one of my only friends. I had online friends, but they'll never notice that I'm gone, much less dead. We don't even talk much due to different timezones.

I opened the cabinet under the sink and dug around the small box in it. I always hid it on the way bottom. My fingers danced over the random times until they finally felt something small, metal, and cold. I smiled as I pulled it out, the silver razor. Small blotches of red still stained it, but it doesn't matter. I pulled up my sleeve, but stopped. This was slow. I need a faster way. I gave my gun to Ludwig for his birthday a while back, and there was no way in hell I was going to chock myself to death. I shuttered at the thought. I looked back at the razor, and glanced around the bathroom. What about the bathtub? I blinked a few times before giving up. I crawled over to the bathtub, and turned on the water. I twisted the plug down and waited for it to fill up. I don't care how hot or cold the water is, I just wanted to get this over with. So that way my father can live his happy life with my brother, and forget about me.

Once the water was a little over half way, I turned off the water, and removed my clothing. I stepped in the tub, and sighed. Okay maybe I do care about the temperature, it was fucking freezing. I bit my lip, and quickly sunk down into the tub. It was so cold. Hey, I guess that's another thing that can kill me. I slowly moved the razor to my wrist. Was I actually going to do this? The blade pressed against my already abused skin. I guess I am. The blade pressed down in my skin, causing me to slightly wince. I kept on pressing down, and bit on my tongue to keep from making loud noises. The blade sunk deeper and deeper into my flesh, I refused to stop. What if I don't cut deep enough and I live? I watched the beautiful swirls of red that escaped from my wrist. The dark red blood swirled close around my wrist, but the farther the blood went the more lightly coloured it became. It was like art. I stopped pressing down on the blade, and threw the blade on the ground, outside of the tub. The metal item clanked, the blood lightly dotted the ground.

The cold water lapped at my wrist, allowing the blood to spread around the tub. I laid back, my back pressing against the cold, smooth side of the tub. I stared at the ceiling, my vision started to get dotted. It was hard to breath. My breaths were short but quick. I swallowed roughly, and slightly looked at the water. It was a nice red colour. Not completely red, it was still slightly pink. I guess this is a quick way to die. I smiled as I closed my eyes. Now Father can be truly happy with his son.

His only son.

Maybe the next life will be better.