My twin brother and I look exactly alike, but our parents have only ever loved him. Even after I got early admission to Harvard with a full ride, my mother got down on her knees and begged me to take the SATs for my brother, Dylan, who was failing all his classes. I told them it was a federal crime, but my father kicked me so hard he broke my ribs, watching me gasp for air on the floor. “If you won’t take the test for him, you might as well die.” In sheer despair, I agreed. But once I got into the exam room, I wrote “DUMBASS” in giant letters on every single page of the test. I completely destroyed Dylan’s dream of getting into an Ivy League school. In fact, he wouldn’t even be allowed to retake the test… “You selfish brat! You got your golden ticket to Harvard, but you’re going to let Dylan’s future rot? You know his grades are terrible! What kind of brother are you?” My mother’s face was twisted in rage as she screamed at me, as if I had committed some unspeakable crime. But all I did was refuse to commit exam fraud by taking the SATs under Dylan’s name. It was illegal. If we got caught, my Harvard admission would be revoked, and I could even face prison time. But my mother wouldn’t listen to a word. After she finished screaming, she dropped to her knees with a heavy thud. She sobbed, begging, “Ethan, please. I’m begging you. Just take the test for him! Have you forgotten what you did to him? You pushed him down the stairs when you were kids! If you hadn’t pushed him, he’d be a hundred times smarter than you. He wouldn’t be struggling to get into college! You ruined his life, and now you won’t even help him with this? How can you be so heartless?” I hadn’t forgotten. How could I ever forget? When we were kids, Dylan wanted the last piece of cake in my hand. He tripped and fell down the stairs trying to snatch it. But when he woke up, he told our parents that I pushed him. From that day on, I was branded as the evil twin. No matter how much I explained, they never believed me. Dylan got double the cake, double the toys, and all the love because of his “injury.” In the years that followed, he framed me over and over again. My life became a living hell, and my parents treated me like I was invisible. Even now, my mother’s heart only beat for Dylan. She wanted me to take all the risks, face prison, and throw my life away just for him! But I was her son, too! Richard, my father, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “I’m not asking for a perfect score. Just get a decent score so Dylan can get into Columbia or NYU. You are twins. I raised you to support each other. Are you really going to be this selfish when your brother needs you?” Because of my refusal, my father’s face was dark. He looked like a wild animal ready to tear me apart if I said no again. His cold glare made me shiver, and my heart bled. Before I could speak, Dylan, who had been staring at his phone like a ghost, finally looked up. He smirked at me with pure disdain. “Look at this coward, scared of his own shadow. Just shut up and go, Ethan. We have the exact same face. No one at the testing center will ever know.” My mother quickly chimed in, “Exactly! You two look identical. Even we can barely tell you apart sometimes, let alone a bunch of exam proctors.” I felt a wave of absolute despair. How could they say they couldn’t tell us apart? We looked the same, yes, but since we were kids, they always managed to identify Dylan perfectly whenever there was a toy to buy or delicious food to give. All their love went to him. And now, they wanted me to ruin my life for him. What about me? What would happen to me if we got caught? In their eyes, was Dylan’s life meant to be bright and glorious, while mine was meant to rot in the mud? I wanted to fight back. I wanted to run away. But looking at the deep wrinkles on my parents’ faces, I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and forced myself to speak. “Exam fraud is a federal crime. If they find out, I will go to prison. How about this? Starting today, I will tutor Dylan every single day. We still have time before the test—” Before I could finish, Dylan’s fist slammed into my face. The rest of my words were cut short, drowned in the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. Dylan glared at me, his eyes filled with fury. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Trying to rub your high grades in my face? If I could study, would I need you to take the damn test for me? I’m letting you do this because I’m throwing you a bone. Don’t be ungrateful!” With that, Dylan threw me to the floor and turned to scream at our parents. “Look at the perfect son you raised! So selfish! He gets to go to Harvard while I don’t even get into college! I already made a bet with the guys. If I don’t get into a top school, they’re going to break my hands! You’re trying to ruin me! I’ll just go die! Is that what you want? Are you happy now?!”
Dylan kicked the coffee table over with a loud crash. The boiling hot soup on the table splashed all over me, burning my skin. My vision went blurry from the sharp pain. My mother, who had been kneeling on the floor just a moment ago, scrambled up to grab Dylan’s hands, crying tears of pity. “My poor baby! Your hands are so beautiful. What would you do without them?” Then she whipped her head around to glare at me, her eyes filled with pure malice. “Look at what you’ve done to your brother! How did I ever give birth to a monster like you?” She acted as if I was the one who made the bet, as if I was the one threatening to chop Dylan’s hands off. Faced with Dylan, she was a loving mother. Faced with me, she was a vengeful enemy. It was as if I wasn’t her son, but her mortal foe. My father finally threw off his fake mask of civility. He walked over and slapped me hard across the face. “I told you this ungrateful little shit wouldn’t help. You wanted to negotiate with him, Eleanor? I say we just beat him until he learns to obey.” The slap made my ears ring loudly. I couldn’t hear anything for a long time. When the ringing finally faded, I heard my father’s voice. “If you don’t agree to take the test for Dylan today, I will beat you to death, you ungrateful bastard.” My father raised his hand to strike me again, but my mother stopped him. For a split second, a tiny spark of warmth rose in my battered heart. But then, my mother said, “Don’t hit his face, Richard. We never hit Dylan’s face. People at the testing center will get suspicious.” Ah. They were just worried about getting caught. Of course. Since we were kids, whenever I was beaten until I bled, Dylan was coddled like a fragile glass doll. If he even scraped his knee, they would rush him to the ER. “Are you going to do it or not, you piece of shit?” Dylan snapped, losing his patience. Looking at my “family” standing over me like a pack of wolves, I suddenly let out a bitter laugh. So this was the family I had been craving love from. Seeing me laugh, my father lost his temper completely. He lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. A sharp, sickening crack echoed in my ears. A wave of agonizing pain exploded from my chest, radiating to every nerve in my body. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood as I collapsed onto the floor. Looking up at them standing over me like demons, feeling the cold touch of impending death, I finally gave in. I didn’t want to die… So, I had to agree. Once I agreed to take the SATs, Dylan suggested that I should start “living his life” to get used to the identity. As soon as my broken ribs healed enough for me to move, I was forced to go to Dylan’s school pretending to be him. The moment I walked through the school gates, a guy with a messy, loose outfit slung his arm over my shoulder. “Yo, Dylan! You’re finally back.” I glanced at him but didn’t say a word. He kept talking, “You promised to buy the boys drinks to celebrate your upcoming graduation and your new sports car. You’ve been MIA for days, man. We’ve been waiting!” I didn’t want to talk to these people, but his words caught my attention. “What new sports car?” “Come on, Dylan! You said your parents promised you a new Mustang once you graduate high school. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now!” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a sleazy whisper. “Besides, didn’t your mom sign that exclusive contract for your brother with that tech firm? Your family must be loaded right now! How about lending some cash to your boy?” A tech firm contract… An alarm went off in my head. I suddenly remembered a shady, third-rate tech startup that had offered me a “technical advisor” position a few weeks ago. I had researched them. The company was notorious in the industry for wage theft, extreme exploitation, and senior executives who sexually harassed interns. The contract was a predatory 20-year binding agreement. They only recruited top-tier students from elite schools to use them as cheap labor and positive PR before tossing them aside. Signing it meant throwing away your entire life. I had rejected them outright. I never imagined my mother would forge my signature and sign it behind my back. She was selling my future! A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The guy beside me kept rambling, “Man, your mom is awesome! Selling your brother’s future just to buy you a sports car!” Yes. My parents were so good to Dylan. They forced me to commit a federal crime for him, signed away my life to a toxic company, and used the signing bonus to buy him a luxury car. What about me? My parents had never given me a single penny of allowance. I was so poor I couldn’t even afford lunch at school. When I got sick, I had to endure it alone. I almost died of a high fever in my dorm room once. But whenever I asked them for money, they would scream at me, calling me a financial burden, telling me to drop out of school and work in a factory. We were born from the same parents, so why was there such a brutal difference? What did I do wrong? Looking at my stolen future, a wave of helplessness washed over me. I couldn’t even take another step. I just wanted to collapse on the pavement and scream.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that Dylan was incredibly popular at school. He spent money like water, constantly buying drinks and fast food for his classmates and teachers, so everyone loved him. Meanwhile, because I always wore old, ragged clothes and couldn’t afford to pay for class activities, I was constantly bullied and isolated. Only my desk mate, Daisy, was kind to me. She never looked down on me. My chest still throbbed with pain, making it hard to speak, but I forced myself to stay at school until the final bell. I knew if I went home early, my parents would only find something else to scream at me for. Back when I was studying for my own exams, they never cared. But now that I was taking the test for Dylan, they watched me like hawks, terrified I would ruin his chance. Even when I was recovering from my broken ribs, they piled SAT prep books on my bed, forcing me to study. When I finally walked through the front door, they were already eating dinner. Sitting at my spot was a paper plate and a plastic fork, with a pile of cold, leftover rice. I couldn’t remember when it started, but I was always forced to use paper plates and plastic forks, treated worse than a stray dog. Meanwhile, Dylan always ate from the finest china, and when he was angry, he would throw those heavy plates right at my head. And today was no exception. The moment I walked in, Dylan muttered, “Ugh, my appetite is ruined,” and slammed his plate onto the table. The beautiful ceramic plate shattered into pieces. My mother gasped. “Oh, my sweet boy!” Then she turned to me, screaming, “Grab your garbage plate and get upstairs! Stop ruining our dinner!” Then she turned back to Dylan, her voice dripping with honey. “Dylan, honey, you need your nutrition. Have some more lobster.” Looking at this family that I would never be a part of, the urge to run away flared up again. I sighed inwardly, picked up my paper plate, and turned to head upstairs. Suddenly, Dylan’s tone changed. He let out a nasty, mocking laugh. “Hey, come here. I want to show you something.” He pulled out his phone and played a video. Seeing the intimate, blurred figures on the screen, my heart stopped. A cold, suffocating terror gripped my throat. Dylan chuckled, “That little fat girl is actually pretty fun in bed, though she kept crying and calling out your name. Annoying as hell.” He burst into a loud, mocking laugh. “By the way, dear brother, that stupid girl is Daisy, right? She actually thought I was you. She kept crying, ‘Ethan, please stop…’ It was fucking hilarious!” Daisy… The only person in the world who was kind to me, the only person who gave me warmth! And she was defiled by this monster, Dylan! If she found out it wasn’t me, if she knew there was a video… she would be completely destroyed! How was I supposed to face her now? My blood ran cold, and my heart felt like it was about to explode. Looking at the face that looked exactly like mine, I threw a heavy punch right into his laughing mouth. In that moment, I genuinely wanted to kill him. I agreed to take his test. I gave him my future. I gave him everything. But why did he have to touch Daisy?! He took my parents’ love, he took my toys, he took my entire life, and now he had destroyed the only beautiful thing I had left. I went feral, pinning Dylan to the floor and slamming my fists into his face. But watching his bloody, crying face didn’t bring me any peace. I only felt a deep, agonizing ache in my chest, and tears finally spilled over. The chaos ended when my mother slammed a heavy wooden rolling pin against the back of my head, knocking me out cold. In the days that followed, they locked me in my room, forcing me to study until the day of the SATs. During those dark days, something inside me broke, and then rebuilt itself into something cold and sharp. Originally, I just wanted to get it over with, let Dylan have his Ivy League spot, and leave this family forever. But now, I wanted to destroy him. I wanted him to regret ever touching Daisy. I wanted to burn his entire world to the ground. If he wouldn’t let me live, I wouldn’t let him win. On the day of the exam, my parents escorted me to the testing center like prison guards. Before I got out of the car, they warned me, “You better get a score high enough for Columbia, or we’ll skin you alive.” I nodded obediently. But once I sat down in the quiet exam room, surrounded by nervous, hopeful students, I calmly wrote Dylan’s name on the bubble sheet. Then, on the essay section and every single page of the test booklet, I wrote “DUMBASS” and “LOSER” in giant, bold letters. I wrote down every disgusting, vile insult my parents and Dylan had ever thrown at me. You want to go to Columbia? Go work at a drive-thru, you piece of trash. I let out a quiet smirk, unable to wait to see the look on their faces when the results came out.
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