A letter from my brother

/!\ This story can hurt the sensibilities of some people.

Hello, you already know me, I come here often, but this time, it's not to joke around with you... I don't know if I've told you, but my little brother committed suicide just three days ago... However, he left us a letter explaining why he ended his life, and this letter left us with a strange feeling... I'll let you understand why.

"My dear family,

I know what you're thinking: 'How did we not see what was happening to him? Why didn't we do anything sooner?' Stop racking your brains over it, you couldn't have done anything for me, nobody could, to be honest... Don't cry for me, I'm not worth it, believe me. Well, even if I say that, you're going to do it anyway, and I don't blame you for that.

Let me explain what happened to your beloved son.

To you, I was the model boy, kind, gentle, smiling, always cheerful, living in a world of rainbows and unicorns. But the reality was quite different.

Truth be told, I was the complete opposite of that, an introverted, unhealthy, and bizarre boy; I laughed at people's misfortunes, I relished it like a mosquito relishes our blood. I didn't want to show you this hidden side of my personality; I was ashamed of it, especially in the face of your kindness and goodness towards me.

I manipulated others, made puppets out of them, my puppets. I found all kinds of blackmail to get what I wanted.

Well, I say 'I,' but it wasn't really me, well, physically, yes, but not internally... I don't know how to say it, but deep down, it wasn't me.

At first, it was okay; at night, to help me fall asleep, I self-motivated for the next day, like a prayer, I talked to myself, thought, weighed the pros and cons of many subjects while discussing with myself. But as time went on, my thoughts and internal discussions changed. What I took for my words, they weren't, or not anymore, there was something else inside.

I promise you... It haunted me, Mom, the voices, their voices haunted me, they weren't my thoughts anymore, but theirs, it wasn't me, no, it wasn't me... Well... Even now, I still doubt, did I imagine them? Or were they really there? Maybe they were my deep, unconscious thoughts? I don't know...

We hate humans, those power-hungry, selfish, and impure beings, they don't deserve to live. Lies, manipulation, rape, murder, so many vices in them that must be destroyed, that must be purified. That's what they told me, that's their words... Every night, every morning, every hour, every minute, they harassed me, 'Destroy them,' 'exterminate them,' 'purify them,' 'You are strong, Mathieu, you can do it.' Do you remember our cat Paillète? He didn't run away, I killed him. We took great pleasure in breaking his limbs, skinning him alive, and cutting him into pieces. The sensation was exhilarating, the blood on my hands was magnificent, dark red, my favorite color, is it a coincidence?

No, I didn't enjoy it, they did, not me, they don't want to leave, Dad, no, they don't want to.

Get out of my head, get out of my head, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD. Even now, they're still here. Even when I bid you farewell, they're here, they never leave me, never, no, never...

Every night, they talk to me, they invite things into my room, shadows, monsters, only visible from the corner of my eye, they watch me while the others talk to me. The medication, I took it to sleep, impossible without them,

The voices didn't stop, the shadows laughed at me, they danced, played, mocked me, their yellow eyes fixed on me. Every night, yes, every night...

I'm lost, exhausted, burnt out, I've written this letter three times, I'm tired of starting over, so it will be as it is, disjointed, illogical, I don't even know what I'm writing anymore, or how, nothing makes sense in this letter... They take control of my body and mind, I control them less and less, my thoughts are theirs... My actions have become theirs... My self-mutilations weren't enough, they wanted a blood other than mine... Paul Verro, 13 years old, scalped, eyes gouged out, dismembered. He wasn't recognizable, this child, it was amusing, hearing his screams of fear and pain, his light blue teary eyes, it was horrible. No, beautiful, truly beautiful.

Stop it... Let me finish, get out, get out of my head, you and your shitty shadows, get out of my head and my room... My heart hurts, Dad... You always told me I was strong, not to cry except in your arms, but I can't cry, I can't cry anymore, it doesn't come out anymore... And even if it does, it hurts, it burns me, sometimes, I feel like my tears are blood, but a blink later and they're just tears again... My body betrays me, my cuts itch, my neck itches... I'm rotten inside, I'm dead inside... Worms came out of my cuts, I still see them when I look at my veins, I feel them wandering in my body as if they were at home. It itches terribly, I scratch myself until I bleed to get rid of them, but they come back, I don't know what to do anymore, they don't know what to do anymore, I'm their host after all.

Why didn't you believe me? Why did you say I was delusional? Why? Why? Why doesn't anyone believe me, Camille, even you, my sister... You even made fun of me, my gaze, your gaze, your gazes, I saw in your eyes... I saw that you were ashamed of me, I could see it clearly. You're... my fucking family, you should... support me, not push me down, go to hell, we're here for him, me, ourselves, isn't our family beautiful? You're just obstacles, moralizing walls in his mind.

You wanted to send me to therapy, right? No need, I'm not crazy, no, I'm not, it's them... It's the voices... I'm sane, right, I am, yes, you are, yes, I am, I think therefore I am, didn't Descartes say that?

I'm sane, believe it hard enough and it will come true, I didn't do anything wrong... Yes, I did, Dad, Mom, Camille, I'm crazy, the voices got the best of me... I can't live like this anymore, I don't want to hurt people anymore, I don't want to get my head smashed...

I don't want to break, destroy entire families by killing impure beings, I don't want to do it anymore, I don't want to suffer anymore... Oh yes, my God, yes, we want to do it, they protect me, we protect you Mathieu and will always protect you, we are you and you are us.

I'm going to end up in hell and not in paradise, maybe we won't see each other again. Mom, Dad, I love you, you've been the best parents in the world, I've never been able to thank you, I'll never be able to give you the trip to India you dream of, Dad, I'll never become a great man, Mom... I won't be your stupid little brother anymore, Camille... I won't be anything anymore.

I would have liked to say goodbye to you in person, but that's not possible... I'm afraid of what I might do to you, I don't want to hurt you. I love you, the voices got the best of me, the shadows have haunted me for too long... I'm becoming like them... I'm starting to enjoy what I've done, I watch the shadows play, I even have fun with them... I don't want to continue this, it goes against my morals... I'd rather leave this rotten world to the core before doing more horrible things, as long as I still have some control over myself.

Dad, Mom, Camille, I love you...

• Your Son and brother .

That's my brother's letter, he talks about shadows and voices... I didn't believe him... So he had no one to listen to him... Don't make the same mistake as me, if someone ever talks to you about this, listen to them, and trust them...