I found out I had a half-brother. But only because I’d checked the obituary; he’d been shot in the back four times.

When I looked him up I wanted to find out that he’d been a monster. Maybe a child abuser, a rapist, a drug-crazed misogynist arms dealer, a fucking supervillain, anything. Just so he would’ve deserved it.

But no.

This kid had dabbled in wargames- you know, toy tanks and robots fighting each other on a table – and then quit them because he thought they were too violent. Went back to spending his weekends helping his mom clean the house up. Tried a light beer once and hadn’t liked it much. Wanted to marry his girlfriend before sleeping with her.

They’d. Never. Even. Kissed. So much for being a fucking vice king.

It was Dad that we had in common. That’s why they killed him.