For years... actually decades by this time... Richard had a calm "fuck off" ready to serve his sister the moment his she would reach out for help. The two had been close before the

money

, and when he first began earning real money he couldn't be more excited, the only thing his imagination ruminating being on how he would

retire

his sister. He'd ensure that Vicky would never need to work to pay the bills. She could instead do whatever she wanted.

Richard did in fact retire her for several years until "the accident". Or at least what he called the accident but what Vicky liked to call "the blessing". She had been around 26 at the time. When Richard asked about the father she would provide only vague answers, refusing to go into the amount of details he believed he had the right to.

How dare his sister throw her life away, he thought. What was he working so hard for? He had hoped for an exciting, proper life for his sister. Not this

mid-wit

ted

debauchery

. This was the type of things his parents would pull. But they were supposed to be better than that.

Still. Richard was against

abortion

s. Although at the time he had half hoped that Vicky would come to decide on her own accord to have one. But she seemed keen on having the baby and raising it. 

Over the months Richard came to like the idea more and more. His plan of retiring his sister would still be in action. But instead of taking classes at universities and traveling the world she would be raising a child. Richard's previous anger evaporated and he became excited again. He would be an uncle.

The two of them became so close during the final months leading up to the delivery. He had even reduced his hours at work and had spent the bulk of his focus on Victoria and her baby. He stopped sleeping most nights in 

Westcity

and instead came to stay with his sister and incoming nephew at the country side house all the way out in Oakwood.

After the delivery things got worse. Slowly. At first the arguments were about small things. But they kept recurring. More things went unsaid, leaving him to be thinking about their interaction for hours after it had happened. Feeling insulted.

Every little thing began to have meaning attached to it. He could no longer simply order the organic, grass-fed version of the milk without her accusing him of trying to wave his money into her face. When he hired the maid, Vicky seemed hell bent on making it seem like they were being imperialists. 

"So do your own cleaning then!" he'd say. But she'd refuse even that.

Every god damn little thing she would get so upset about, staining the altruism that he once felt from providing for his sister until eventually one day he no longer wanted to provide for his sister. She and her bastard could struggle just like the rest of the middle-class and poor people for all he cared.

No it was deeper than that. He wanted them to struggle. He didn't care whether they struggled or not. Instead he wanted to watch them.

But he could never pull his help. It had to be her who let her 

pride

prevent her from accepting his help. He made every aspect of her life insufferable. He'd shower her with the most gaudy help, and make statements to make her feel like an incapacitated silver-spoon hog who couldn't do anything on her own. He'd share stories of professional 

women

he brushed shoulders with in his line of work. He'd also share stories of wholesome 

homemakers

he knew through the men he worked with.

He made sure to paint these stories in such vivid detail to Vicky to allow her to see what a useless waste of life she was leading. After nearly a year of the two stopped arguing. He slowly didn't come back to the country house. And one day she disappeared. Until the apartment fire she had never asked for any help (money or otherwise) from Richard.

But the whole time he knew she would. He knew she wasn't built like the tough working class who worked nine hours a day and drove 1 hour both ways and ate horrible food and watched horrible TV and listened to horrible 

podcasts

just to alleviate the pain of what was their lives. He knew she would eventually be unable to hold her breath and come with her hand out to ask "brother. I really need your help." and he was damn ready to tell her "go and live with your pride, sister."

But when her voice came through the phone all the hate and vengeance was nowhere to be found. All he could feel was sympathy. All he wanted to do suddenly was to help.