After I Died, My Brother Went Gray Overnight

My older brother has hated me since we were kids.

He never let me call him “Brother.” He said I was a jinx who had caused his mother to die.

The day I was murdered, I called my brother in tears:

“Brother, please, save me. I'm so scared.”

He didn't reply until after our cousin's birthday banquet was over:

“You'd better really have been kidnapped. You'd better really be about to die.”

Then he blocked me.

The villain laughed as he slashed a knife across my throat, blood splattering everywhere.

“So you were just an unwanted kid, too. Fine, I'll make your death a little more comfortable.”

Later, I heard that after I died, the brother who had hated me most went gray overnight.