This is one of the darkest things I’ve ever shared publicly, but I can’t carry it anymore. A few years before he died, my brother confessed something that completely shattered how I saw him and how I understood our family.

To explain it properly, I have to start at the beginning.

Since you loved this post, you might enjoy these too:
• The Unseen Weight of My Secret: The Shattering Truth About My Adoption and the Journey to Healing
• The Weight of Shame: A Decades-Old Secret Revealed - My Childhood Bullying of an Invisible Boy
• Unpacking the Trauma: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Healing from Childhood Sexual Abuse and Incest
• I Kissed My Best Friend: Unraveling the Mystery of a Night that Changed Everything


Jeff was, in many ways, a gentle and intelligent man soft-spoken, polite, the kind of person people described as “a good guy.” He reminded me a lot of Niles from Frasier: witty, sensitive, and a little pretentious.

He got married young, had kids before he was ready, and quickly found himself overwhelmed by the weight of real adulthood. The long work hours, the sleepless nights, the constant demands of family life — it all started eating him alive.

His wife, Anisha, was equally miserable. She was exhausted from caring for their children and frustrated that Jeff seemed disconnected and resentful. He’d complain that after working all day, he came home to chaos instead of peace. She’d fire back that while he worked, she was at home doing everything else. Their relationship became a battlefield of unmet needs and unspoken resentment.

But here’s where things took a darker turn. Jeff had narcissistic personality disorder just like me, though his version was more extreme, more dangerous. He couldn’t empathize, couldn’t truly see other people’s feelings as real. To him, emotional needs were burdens. Every reminder of his own inadequacy made him angry. He once told me he fantasized about coming home to two sleeping children, a spotless house, a hot meal, and sex anything but the messy reality of family life.

That’s not the confession, though. What he finally told me years later was far worse.

When his anger reached its peak, Jeff started taking it out in the most twisted way imaginable on his children’s pet rabbits. He would kill them using household chemicals and then quietly replace them with identical ones, over and over again. It was his secret outlet, his way of “releasing tension.”

When he told me, I was horrified. I couldn’t believe it. I eventually warned Anisha, who had been confused by the strange “accidents” happening to the pets. That conversation destroyed our relationship he never forgave me for exposing him. We got into a violent fight, and for the first time, I broke the brotherly code we’d always lived by. I couldn’t protect a man capable of doing something like that.

I asked him again and again why he did it. His only answer was, “I don’t know. It just helps. Even the drive to buy the acid helps.” He said it like he was the victim, like his own cruelty was a coping mechanism.

After his death, Anisha revealed even more. He had raped and beaten her during her pregnancies. He had cheated with escorts, sent her photos to humiliate her exactly the way our father had done to our mother. The generational cycle of violence and narcissism had continued, and he became the very thing we both hated.

I still love him in a strange, broken way. He was my brother. But the truth is, the world is a better place without him in it. It’s painful to say, but I can’t deny it anymore. Some people destroy everything they touch, and love alone can’t save them.

Posts you may like too:
• The Unseen Weight of My Secret: The Shattering Truth About My Adoption and the Journey to Healing
• The Weight of Shame: A Decades-Old Secret Revealed - My Childhood Bullying of an Invisible Boy
• Unpacking the Trauma: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Healing from Childhood Sexual Abuse and Incest
• I Kissed My Best Friend: Unraveling the Mystery of a Night that Changed Everything
• A Ghost from My Past: The Unspoken Secrets and Unresolved Pain of Losing My Best Friend
• From Unwanted to Unstoppable: My Journey from Poverty, Abuse, and Desperation to Independence and Self-Love
• Unburdened: Confronting the Weight of a Secret Life
• Tuning Out the Silence: When the Heaviness of Life Has No Label
• The Weight of a Moment: Living with the Guilt of a Fight Gone Wrong
• When Carrying the Weight, Remember: It's Okay to Rest