Chapter 2My Forbidden Diary Prank Backfired Perfectly

Fast forward twenty-some years, and we were still the "perfect" siblings. At least, on the surface.

Last week, Beck and I had a blowout fight because he wouldn't "allow" me to go to a guy’s birthday party at a lake house. When he realized he was losing the argument, he did the unthinkable: he started quoting a private entry from my diary to mock my "immaturity."

That was the moment I realized the bastard had been snooping for years.

I was so livid I kicked him in the shin and stormed upstairs. Sure, I had sneaked a peek at his journals a few times in high school, but I wasn't a sociopath—I didn't throw it in his face! I’d read his secrets under my covers and giggle to myself. He, on the other hand, was using my private thoughts as tactical weaponry.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted blood. To get my revenge, I went out and bought a brand-new journal—one with a pathetic little heart-shaped lock that I knew he could pick in seconds.

I filled the first few pages with mundane nonsense about work and coffee. Then, I dropped the nuclear bomb.

I wrote: "I’m a horrible person. How can I feel this way about my own brother? People say this kind of obsession is a sickness, that it’s immoral, and I know I should stop."

"But I can't help it. Every time he looks at me, I feel like I’m suffocating. Maybe the internet is right—maybe we were meant for each other in another life..."

To finish the masterpiece, I took a red felt-tip pen and drew a messy, dramatic heart right after the final period.

Beckett didn't disappoint.

The next afternoon, he came into my room with a bowl of fruit, acting like a peace offering. He immediately saw the diary lying "accidentally" open on my desk. I watched from the crack in the door.

He stood there for five seconds. Just five.

Then, those long, familiar fingers reached out and expertly flipped the page. He had this smug, "I’m just checking on you" look on his face—the look of a man who thought he held all the cards.

By the second line, his smugness didn't just fade; it evaporated. His jaw dropped so hard I thought it might hit the floor. His fingers started trembling, the veins in his forehead popped, and his eyes went wide with pure, unadulterated horror.

I stayed hidden, clutching my stomach to keep from howling with laughter. That’s what you get, you creep.