My XYY Brother, The Monster Inside

My mom was pregnant with my little brother, Liam. During a checkup, they discovered he had XYY syndrome. Everyone told Mom she should terminate the pregnancy. She refused, crying her eyes out. I asked her what XYY meant. She told me it meant Liam would be extra strong, a real man's man, and that he'd protect me. I sort of understood, until Liam was seven and started bashing my mom's head in with a brick. Then I think I really understood what she meant.

...

I was six when Mom got pregnant. After a few months, they secretly paid for a test and found out it was a boy. Mom was ecstatic. Dad always said I was all the family he needed, his little princess, but Mom always wanted a son. Then the amnio results came back, and everything changed. Liam had an extra Y chromosome.

I eavesdropped from outside the door. Dad pleaded with Mom, "Let's just let it go. We have Emily. It's enough. The doctor said kids like this they can be troubled, violent. We cant handle that."

Mom sobbed, shaking her head, hands cradling her belly. "No, I can't. He's already so big. You want to end his life just because of something a doctor said?"

Dad's face was crumpled. He went out to the balcony to smoke, leaving Mom crying in the living room. I went in and asked, "Mom, what does 'extra Y' mean?"

Mom looked at me sadly, thought for a moment, and said, "It means your brother will be super strong, a real tough guy. Hell protect you, sweetie."

"But will you will you love him more than me?" I asked hesitantly.

Mom stroked my hair. "Never. You're my precious girl. I'll always love you most."

I smiled.

A few months later, Liam was born. Everyone said he was beautiful, big eyes, perfect skin, like a baby from a magazine. Mom beamed with pride whenever someone complimented him. How could such a cute baby be violent, she'd ask? She'd devote her life to him.

Surrounded by Moms love, Liam grew, started babbling, then talking, expressing his emotions. Except, his way of expressing himself wasnt quite like other kids. If he didnt like his carefully prepared baby food, he'd fling the bowl across the room. If his toy cars batteries died, he wouldnt just cry, hed stomp on it until it was shattered. He had this intense destructive urge. No toy survived longer than a day. Then hed move on to other things. Breaking things seemed to give him immense pleasure. Dad's attempts at discipline were useless. Mom just encouraged him. "Good job, Liam! Youre so strong!"

I felt wronged. I complained to Mom, "Why do you spank me when I break things, but not Liam?"

Mom sighed. "Liam's different. He needs gentle guidance. Youre his big sister. You need to understand."

I didnt understand. It felt like blatant favoritism.

To encourage gentleness, Mom bought us each a pet bunny. "Be kind to your bunnies," she said, smiling. "Theyre living creatures."

Liam touched the bunnys ears, nodding enthusiastically.

The next morning, Mom screamed when she went to change the bunnies food. I ran to the balcony. Liams bunny was dead, disemboweled. Its intestines were spilled across the cage. My bunny huddled in the corner, trembling. Liam stood behind Mom, smiling, asking for a hug. "Mommy, I want another bunny!"

I hugged my bunny, a shiver running down my spine.

After Liam was born, he became the center of our universe. My parents, even Grandma, who moved in to help, focused all their attention on him. He seemed like a normal, happy little boy most of the time, all smiles and giggles, loving snacks and cartoons. But that cheerful facade could shift in a second. When Grandma wouldn't give him candy, he bit her arm, like a wolf, refusing to let go. I was watching TV, and as Mom carried him past, he grabbed the remote and smashed it against my head. Blood streamed down my face as he grinned.

When he was finally old enough for preschool, my parents spent a fortune to find a place that specialized in child development and emotional well-being. It didn't last long. The teachers called my parents in. An older kid had teased Liam, called him scrawny. During naptime, while the teacher was in the restroom, Liam snuck into the older kids' room, set a bedsheet on fire with a lighter, locked the door, and ran. If the teacher hadn't gotten back in time

"Does your son watch violent TV shows?" the teacher asked, horrified. "Ive never seen anything like this. Its terrifying!"

The other parents demanded Liam be expelled. My parents apologized profusely, paid a hefty sum, and took him home. Liam stood there, chewing on his finger, watching them grovel. A teacher asked him why he was smiling.

"I wanted to watch them burn," he said.

Dads face went white. He slapped Liam across the face, sending him tumbling to the floor. Liam screamed. Everyone stared. Mom rushed to comfort him.

"It's Mommy's fault! Im so sorry!"

That night, my parents had a huge fight.

"We should never have kept him!" Dad roared. "Hes a monster!"

"Hes your son!" Mom shrieked. "And he's here now! What good does it do to say that now?"

Dad wanted to argue, but he just sat down, defeated, leaving Mom to cry.

Mom managed to get Liam into another preschool, but he kept acting out ?C cutting a little girls hair, dunking a kid's head in the toilet, telling people he wanted to kick a heavily pregnant teacher in the belly. Then he actually did it. He tripped her when she was going to the restroom. She would have fallen hard if someone hadn't caught her. The teachers husband raised hell, demanding compensation. The preschool refunded our money and practically begged Mom to take Liam. We cant handle him, the director pleaded. I've been running this preschool for thirty years, and I've never seen a child like this!

Nothing worked. Finally, Mom gave up and had Grandma watch Liam at home until he was old enough for kindergarten. Grandma, thrilled to have her grandson all to herself, spoiled him rotten. Despite her bad knees, she'd go to the market every day to buy him whatever he wanted. One day, Grandma was going down the stairs when Liam, engrossed in his video game, came barreling out of the apartment. He didn't even slow down. Grandma's shopping basket tumbled down the stairs, followed by Grandma herself. Liam didn't look back. He just kept playing his game, laughing.

I saw it all.

Grandma was paralyzed.

Dad went berserk. He beat Liam, wanting to kill him. Mom cried, clinging to Dad's leg, screaming, "He's just a child!"

"He's not a child!" Dad yelled. "He's a monster!" He collapsed in a chair, muttering, "We should have terminated we should have terminated"

Liam glared at him, hate burning in his eyes. I went to Dad and told him it would be okay, that Grandma would get better. He hugged me tight, tears streaming down his face.

When we got home from the hospital, I was in a strangely good mood. I hummed as I fed my bunny. The poor thing was still traumatized by its companions death, shaking whenever I came near. I pushed the lettuce towards its mouth. "Eat," I said.

The bunny didn't move.

"Why aren't you eating?"

I opened the cage and made sure the lettuce went down its throat before I left, satisfied.

Grandmas paralysis added another burden to our family. Mom quit her job to take care of Liam and Grandma. Nobody knew why Liam pushed her, but he said he thought it was funny. That was Liam ?C finding amusement in other peoples misery.

Grandma, betrayed by her beloved grandson, changed. She stopped talking to Liam and started being nicer to me, sharing her treats and whispering secrets. Liam noticed. A few times, he caught us talking, sharing snacks. His eyes would narrow.

"What are you doing?" hed demand.

Wed stay silent. He'd turn away and go back to his cartoons. I'd breathe a sigh of relief.

Liam grew more reckless, disregarding everyone. When Mom wouldnt let him play with firecrackers outside, he played with them indoors. Mom confiscated all his toys and firecrackers.

One day, Grandma was napping. Mom and I went to the grocery store. "Stay away from the kitchen," Mom told Liam. "Wait for us. Understand?"

Liam smiled sweetly and agreed.

An hour later, when we got back, the smell of smoke hit us as we opened the door. Moms face turned white. The apartment was hazy with smoke. She screamed Liam's name. He was there, unharmed. But the smoke was coming from Grandmas room.

Grandma was still in bed. I coughed, covering my nose. "Grandma! Grandma! Wake up!"

No response.

I called again. Mom came over, shaking Grandma. "Mom! Mom! Whats wrong? Mom!"

Still nothing. As the smoke cleared, I saw a purplish tinge to Grandmas lips. Mom reached out, trembling, to check her pulse. Two seconds later, she screamed and collapsed on the floor.