"Ever since we were kids, Damian got everything handed to him on a silver platter, while I had to scrape and claw for every little thing I wanted," Derek said, his voice laced with a bitter resentment, like a festering wound that never healed.
"When father was alive, he would move heaven and earth to give Damian everything he ever wanted, but he treated me like I was invisible, like I didn't even exist," Derek said, his voice trembling with a deep-seated hurt, like a wounded animal whimpering in pain. His eyes blazed with a fierce accusation, like a burning fire, as he gazed at his mother, his gaze piercing, like a sharp knife cutting through the air.
"He would shower Damian with gifts, attention, and love, but I was just an afterthought, a footnote in his life," Derek continued, his words dripping with a bitter resentment, like a slow-moving poison. His face twisted in a mixture of anger and sadness, like a reflection in a distorted mirror, as he remembered the painful past.
