“So, Max was married with a career in the police and good friends. And what of you? What of your childhood? Of Max causing hell and coming out without a scratch? There he was... you think he has trouble sleeping at night, hell no, but there he was, a wife, a job, a home; everything. No regrets. He had everything you could ask for. But you grew up doing the right thing. You tried to make everyone happy. Make them proud of you. For what?! What do you gain? What did you achieve? Where’s your wife? Where’s your career and home? How does he deserve that, while you get nothing? All the people he hurt, all the pain he caused you. Did he get what he deserves? Hell no.
“I know now what I hate most about your brother. To put it kindly, it's his lack of consistency of character. If he hated you every day you'd have coped and of course you'd prefer him to have been kind but the fact is one day you'd be best mates and have a great time while the next he'd yell at you. On the good days you'd swap identities and trick people but then he'd just change. It could be the difference between the morning and evening. He'd just change. You'd say something and he'd scoff at you, whereas earlier he'd have had a laugh or something. I don't know what it was. I would always think back over what you may have done. Tried to pinpoint why he was angry at you. You must have been, I don't know, in your twenties when you realised it wasn't you. You spent so much time blaming yourself but it was him, all the time, it was him.”