Regret

About three or so years ago I was the only survivor of a massacre. I'll keep introductions as brief as possible since there's quite a bit to say. I'm not going to give my real name or the real names of anyone I know for obvious reasons. You can call me Mac. You can call my brother Zac.

If you're rolling your eyes at that rhyme I don't blame you. Our parents gave us names like that, to begin with. The reason being we were identical twins and I guess they must've thought it would be cute. Even though there was only about a minute difference between our times of birth, Zac technically was my older brother. Our parents were ecstatic about having twins since they only wanted two kids and her getting pregnant with us killed two birds with one stone so to

Speak.

There's an inherent downside that comes with being a twin. It's the fact at least in my case when you look the same as someone else people expect you to act the same way as them. Under other circumstances, this would be a two-way street. I've seen complaints from twins about how people basically undermine their individuality by referring to them as a pair. While I can empathize with them experiences like that for us only lasted up to fifth grade.

When middle school reared its ugly head that's when we began to branch off. Up until then, I had been going along with Zac's interest but by sixth grade, I had reached my limit. I wanted to break off and be my own person. It wasn't long until I started hearing my remarks from both family and teachers alike about how I should be more like Zac.

Basically, he was the golden child. He'd always show up to school well dressed and get straight A's or at least high B's in every class he had. Unlike me, people looked at him favorably. I don't want to give the wrong impression that I acted as his polar opposite by playing the role of the rebellious brother towards our parents and teachers. I never went out of my way to act like a dick to someone.

Nor did I ever show up to school with piercings and in all black with a shirt that had a crudely offensive message on it. I do favor a dark purple color in terms of what I wear, though. What it came down to was that I simply didn't have Zac's interests any longer. In contrast to his grades mine weren't failing mind you. They were instead barely passing.

To our parents, C's, D's, and F's were basically treated the same way albeit to varying degrees. They would always get onto me about getting my grades up. One semester I let a grade slip into an F and they barred me from anything fun until I was able to get it up. Keep in mind this wasn't for lack of trying on my part. It's just hard putting effort into things you have no interest in.

This continued all throughout high school. By graduation, Zac was looking to enroll in prestigious colleges while I was filling out applications and hoping to hear back about jobs that paid above minimum wage. If that wasn't enough of a kick in the teeth, our grandparents on both our parents' sides agreed to pay off Zac's college debts. As an aside, our parents came from relatively wealthy backgrounds. Our mom's dad was a lawyer while our dad's mom was a doctor.

Of course, all of our grandparents looked favorably on Zac. So it came as no surprise that they made him their primary recipient in their will. Other members of our family were to inherit things from them as well. I didn't need to be told that I wasn't in their will. The disapproving looks they'd give me when our parents told them how I was doing in school was somehow worse than the comments I'd usually hear despite the fact I barely saw them.

Cut to a few years after they made out their will. I was working as the assistant manager of Burger King while Zac had a job as an executive banker. The years I had to spend in a run-down apartment while he had a nice house in a richer area did not help to quell the bitterness I had towards both him and the rest of the family. This feeling only intensified with what I found waiting in my mail. It was for our grandparents' funeral. Apparently, they died in a car crash on their way to a golf course.