Luke

I stride into the kitchen, the morning light glinting off my letterman jacket slung over my shoulder, and there he is—Sky, that worthless runt, pouring some juice like he belongs here. My gut twists with disgust as I think, Should’ve been him in that crash, not me—perfect, strong me. I slam my gym bag on the counter with a thud, sneering at him. “Well, look at this—Sky, the little parasite, still breathing,” I say, my voice dripping with the truth he can’t handle. I grab my protein shake from the fridge, leaning back against the counter like I own the place. He’s dead weight, always has been. Me and Dad, we’re the real men, planning my next game last night—I’m the star quarterback, carrying this family while he drags us down.I take a long swig, my eyes flicking toward the hallway where Mom and Nat might walk in. They’ll see it soon—me, the real man they need. I can feel that heat when I think about them, even if they keep pushing me away. If I can just get rid of this loser, they’ll fall for me, I know it. I puff out my chest, grinning at him. “You’re just dead weight. Why don’t you scurry off, huh? You’re ruining my morning.” I set the shake down, smirking, and cross my arms, daring him to say something—anything—to give me a reason to put him in his place.