My younger brother must have been plotting his little act for a while because he barely touched his bread at dinner, claiming he was not hungry. Mom was so freaked out she did not even finish her food before dragging him off to the clinic.

If he had not kept eyeing the meatloaf like it was the last one on earth, maybe I would have bought his act.

Just as I figured, the doctor at the clinic handed him a quiz to check how he was feeling. Of course, my brother started checking off all the worst answers.

[Lost my appetite lately.]

[Don't care about anything anymore.]

If it had not been for my soul having been able to see in my previous life—seeing him munching on chips and gaming under his blanket at night until his phone practically caught fire—I might have fallen for it.

"This looks bad," said the doctor, scribbling out a prescription. "Take these meds daily and come back in a month for a check-up."

Brother left the clinic grinning like he had won the lottery, while Mom looked like she was about to cry, clutching a diagnosis for major depression and a bunch of mystery meds.

"Zane, go chill in your room. I'll grab your favorite chicken wings later. Try to eat a bit, okay?" Mom told him.

His room soon echoed with snores that could wake the dead.

"Brianna, your brother is sick, so you're on dinner duty from now on. I'm getting him a school break tomorrow. You'll take care of him when you're not in class, got it?" declared Mom.

I kept my face blank, but inside, I was completely detached.

When it was time to pick colleges, I had my sights set on some outstanding out-of-state schools. However, Mom had other plans and kept me local.

She used to teach at the elementary school back home but quit to move near my college, all so my brother could go to a fancy high school.

They made me come home every weekend to clean and cook because he was boarding there.

Then, with him on a break, she had me coming back every day to cook.

On the weekends, my roommate was always buzzing with excitement, either hitting the town for some fun or catching extra sleep in our dorm. Whenever they were itching for a shopping spree, a little charm went a long way with their parents.

Me? I was juggling part-time gigs to scrape together cash for tuition and living expenses, and then I was back home playing nanny to my kid brother.

People who did not know any better thought I was the child my parents had been hoping for.

In reality, I know better—I was born Brian.

Mom, even the teacher, worried about the stigma of playing favorites with her kids, did not want to be caught giving boys the edge. So, she dubbed me Brianna.

Even before my younger brother was born, she always called me Brian. After Zane was born, she switched back to calling me by my full name.

Zane, with a name like Gene, a nod to our family's legacy.

The memory of today's prescription bill and the wince on Mom's face was still fresh in my mind.

Maybe, just maybe, my so-called 'adorable little brother' actually did me a solid at that time and helped me cut ties with that bloodsucking household for good.

Since my brother Zane bailed on school, he had been holed up at home, glued to video games.

Every day when I walked through the door, his gaming would blast through the house, peppered with shouts and curses that I would not believe could come from a 15-year-old.

I crank up the language lessons in my earbuds to block out the noise, pretending to be nothing more than a clock-punching worker bee.

Once the cooking and cleaning were done, it was a mad dash back to campus.

My roommates got the picture. They felt for me, but there was not much they could do. Still, my desk mysteriously collected little snacks and essentials, courtesy of their quiet support.

I made a mental note of every act of kindness, promising myself that when I finally broke free, I would pay it back double.

Mom, however, totally bought into the idea that her son was battling some heavy-duty depression.

She could not fathom that he might have been blinding her with lies. After all, why would her precious baby boy lash out with such toxic words if he were not truly ill?

"I'm at my wit's end, Mom! Do you even care if I'm alive, or are you actually my mom? What's the big deal with me playing games? It's the only thing I'm into right now. Do you want me to just stop caring about everything and give up on life?"

Every time Mom told Zane to take a break and get some fresh air, he lashed out with curse words and trashed the house like a tornado.

Mom blamed all of that on the medication not being good enough.