Francis marched his way upstairs to his brother's room, fuming in anger.
"Anthony!" He yelled knocking at the door.
The door was opened and Francis marched in without waiting for an invitation.
"What you are doing is wrong!" he spat.
"And what exactly am I doing, Francis?" Anthony lazily went back to his bed.
Francis moved closer, seeing the pictures scattered all over the bed.
"This is how you want to live the rest of your life?"
But Anthony's face was buried in the pictures.
Pictures of their late mother.
"She was the best thing that ever happened to us! We don't deserve her, Francis."
Francis could only roll his eyes in an attempt to not throw a bottle on his daft brother's head.
"Do you even miss her?"
Francis's face darkened further.
