Siblings of psychopaths, when did you realize your sibling wasn’t normal?

The Brother Who Was Different

My brother did the unthinkable to his girlfriend. When I reported him, my mom said, “Now I have to deal with legal bills because you couldn’t handle watching him”. I stayed silent, knowing everything would change when she saw the truth.

When my little brother was 10, he asked me why you couldn’t just lie to people to get what you want if they’d never find out. I was 17 at the time and had no idea how the f to answer his question.

Back then, I didn’t really think it was a big deal. I just laughed and told him not to lie before shoving him out of my room so I could keep playing Minecraft with my friends.

But from there, strange things started happening. One time, I walked him to school and he showed me this cool bird that he had killed by pouring rat poison into the bird feeder. He whipped it out of his pocket like it was no big deal. That’s when I knew he was more than just quirky.

I always blame myself for not telling our mom sooner, but looking back, I understand why. She was working two jobs seven days a week. Even with my paychecks, no amount of money was ever enough. The last thing I wanted was to give her one more thing to think about.

Plus, I figured I was big brother, so I thought I could handle it. That same day, I bought the cheapest books I could find on parenting and practically swallowed them whole. I swear I had enough information to figure out how to grow a baby in my womb or something. But none of it was applicable to my brother.

A few weeks later, I brought him to the public pool. I swear I only took my eyes off of him for five seconds. When I found him again, he was using all his strength to push against a closet and keep it closed.

I walked over, and when I pushed him out of the way, a small 4-year-old girl walked out. I looked at Timmy, expecting to see some sort of guilt, or at least sadness for being caught. Instead, he just laughed.

“You should have seen her face,” he hollered.

He was pointing at the girl who was so scared she was peeing herself right in the middle of the pool hall. When we got home, I realized we needed to have a serious conversation.

You never know how difficult it is to explain empathy to a child who sees it as a foreign concept until you actually do it. Then Timmy said something that sent chills down my spine.

“If it was wrong, why was it so easy?”

That’s when I had to end the conversation because it was simply too much. I never stopped trying, though. I put in more hours at work just so I could bring him to therapy. I signed him up for rugby so he would have something to channel his stuff into.

I really thought it was working because I wasn’t getting calls about his teachers reporting him anymore and he even had a few friends. Phw. Just when I thought the storm had passed, his therapist called me.

She told me she needed me to come in as urgently as I could and to keep it a secret from Timmy. I left work early and made the 30-minute drive in 20. My head was spinning.

When I walked into the room, her eyes were widened and the color was drained from her face. She had been working this job for 15 years. I couldn’t understand how Timmy had said something to bamboozle her this hard.

She explained that at first Timmy had been saying all the right things during their sessions. He’d even cry sometimes. But during the last session, his 30th one, something changed.

Out of pride, he accidentally let it slip that he had figured out exactly what she wanted to hear. My stomach twisted so much I thought I was going to vomit. He hadn’t been getting better. He’d been getting smarter.

The therapist told me I ought to be very concerned because his ability to manipulate has grown sharper and more calculated.