When I took the photo- A story

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We used to play that we were photographers. Flowers, animals, the dusk in flames, houses, cathedrals; we took a snap of every single thing.
There was a special photo that I stored up in the deepest part of my heart. In the picture, my brother appeared holding a little dog in his arms, with an expression of real happiness. I never thought he could do those horrible things.
It was a night of full moon, the big circle distilling a white and pure light on the top of a dark sky. I heard a scream of a dog from the outside, traveling like a ghost of the dead. I jumped from my bed with the beats of my heart like the rhythm of the drums in a catchy song. I ran downstairs, I opened the door, and I went outside to find the little dog hanging by his neck from a rope, and my brother, next to it, playing with his little paws. I fell unconscious. 
After that incident, my brother continued killing little animals. He started with insects, then with mice. One day he brought down a nest of a bird with a slingshot, then he used two of the eggs that didn´t broke to kill the bird. Surprisingly he had the accuracy of a sniper. 
But then, that day of disgrace, he committed murder to other human being. A little baby. Our cousin.
It was the day I turned sixteen. A simple reunion with the family. I found my brother in my father´s room. He looked me in the eyes. I saw a vague shape on the bed, with no breathing. The pillow in the hands of my brother. I lost my breath for a moment.
“What´s going on sister? Why do you look so surprised?”
I didn´t find my voice.
“It´s because of what I´ve done?”
A silence of five seconds.
“Don´t worry. When they notice that I have killed Max I´ll be dead.
He grabbed the gun of my father, it was on the floor.
“Right here. Between the eyes”
He pointed at his forehead. I couldn´t believe what I was hearing, it was freaky, weird, it was not real.
I held the gun with shaky hands. Then, it was a nightmare. The smell of warm blood running in my hands, the horror of the screams. The world suddenly turned black.
When I awoke the lights and the white colors of the room of the hospital punched me right on the face. I didn´t knew what exactly happened, but I was sure that my brother stilled alive. I was wearing a white hospital gown. I didn´t wait too much to answer the thousands of questions in my mind. My brother, in a brown pajamas was waiting for me, with a canine smile. His bold head wearing white bandages.
“It´s time to go sister.”
“Where? Why are you doing this?”
“Soon or later you´ll know why am I doing this.”
“But…”
“Just follow me. It´s our destiny.”
Ten years have passed, and since that day when I escaped from the prison of sickness and pain, I still doing me one question: What was our destiny?
I lost contact with my brother at the age of seventeen, when I found a new family. That was because I was afraid of what my parents would say. 
I work for a newspaper, taking photos of accidents and social events where I look like garbage, and some of the news of the day.
December 2005
When my memories had almost vanished completely I received a letter from the person of my recent nightmares. My brother, a shadow of my past.
He was inviting me to meet him in a park, the park where we spent a lot of hours with our cheap cameras. I didn´t knew the intentions of that monster. But I knew I had something to do-Kill him! I don’t remember where I obtained the gun or how it cost, but I remember that I was convinced that, when the time to shot came, my hands wouldn´t shake.
The park had changed a lot. The trees that in other times provided a shadow now where thin and without leaves. The little lake was a desert. My brother was looking the horizon from the bridge made of stones. I looked at him with fear. I felt something in my stomach, like millions of butterflies bumping. I walked with the sensation that my feet were freezing.
My brother stayed quiet when I put the barrel of the gun in his neck.
“That´s how you treat your brother after so many years?”
“You´re not my brother, not anymore.”
“But. You´re not going to kill me in a public place.”
“I don’t care if they see me.”
“Oh, I´m sure you care.”
I looked around. Many eyes could see us. I put down the gun.
“I knew it”, said my brother with a calm voice.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“It´s not what I want. It´s what we need.”
“I don’t need anything” I argue.
“Are you sure?”
“I am”
“Let´s get out of here. This is not place to discuss this.”
He turned and, after nine years, I saw his face, his beautiful blue eyes, and his golden hair. He was more handsome that I remembered.
“This is where I live.” he said with pride.
I examine the house of a king. Beautiful furniture that surely cost him more than one of my eyes was the principal attraction in that house of spoons of gold and forks of silver, windows of diamond, and floors of marble.
“How can you pay for this?”
“I work hard.”
Assassin was the first job that flew into my mind.
“As an assassin?”
He laughed hard.
“You think that I enjoy killing people, don’t you? You think that I am a lunatic. But the thing is… I was correct. Why do you think that is not good to eliminate those that bring affliction to the world? We have to eliminate the scum.”
When? When did that sympathetic playing partner turned into an insane human?
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“I already told you. It´s not what I want. It´s what we need.
“Well, What do we need?”
“To kill our father.
“What?!”
“You heard me, kill our father. I don’t know why I should still call him father. He is not our biological father.”
In that space of time I didn’t even try to remember the face of the person that told me stories when I was an infant.
“And?”
“And you gotta help me.”
“I´m not a killer.”
“You don’t have to kill anyone. You’re going to be the bait.”
“The bait is who suffers more.”
“You’re not going to suffer, relax. You’ll meet our father (incredible) in a coffee store. Then, I´ll fire the shot.”
“I’m not going to help you.
“Oh yes. You will.”
He was right. Two days later I was sitting on a chair in the coffee store that my brother, Johan, had chosen. An old man came with a surprised voice.
“Chloé. Is that you? Are you chloé?
“Yes, father.”
My voice trembled.
“After so many years.”
He sat at the opposite side, and then, suddenly, a bullet took away the life of that man. I stayed calm, watching him die, and then I ran as if I just killed the man. I escaped and I lost touch with my brother. I tried to visit him but the house was completely uninhabited.
One Year Later.
It all was a dream. At least that is what I want to believe. 
Finally, after three years I can took photos of landscapes, that was my dream since I was a little kid. I felt excited when I first saw a photograph of white high mountains in a nature magazine. I felt again the cutting cold on my face.
The next day after that I received a letter.
  “Sister. Now our lives must be separate, but let me congratulate you for
  the photo in the magazine. The truth behind all of this is in the pictures
  of the past.”
In the envelope was a picture, taken by nobody, where a family stayed in two feet, wearing expensive clothes. There was also a piece of newspaper.
  “Parents of twins killed. Authors unknown.”
All the lies hidden in that piece of paper. Who killed my real parents? That question lost its weight with all the past years.
I have started a new life, with the burden that my brother, Johan, is out there.
Always, no matter what, I´ll always carry a gun in my pocket.

There might be some errors, sorry I´ll try to better at this.           #166