My Sister, the Serial Killer: A Gripping Tale of Murder and Family Secrets

Have you ever been caught in a relationship so twisted and toxic that it becomes almost impossible to imagine how it started? Oyinkan Braithwaite’s My Sister, the Serial Killer dives into such a relationship between two sisters—Korede and Ayoola—wrapped in darkness, humor, and unsettling normalcy. This gripping novel, with its blend of suspense and dark comedy, forces readers to confront the most complex aspects of human behavior, especially when the lines between loyalty, responsibility, and morality blur.

A Bleakly Efficient Cleaning Routine

From the very first chapter, Braithwaite thrusts us into an intense, almost cinematic scene: Korede, the older sister, is meticulously cleaning up after Ayoola’s latest murder. But this isn't your typical crime scene cleanup. Korede's step-by-step guide to erasing the traces of a killing—from bleach tricks to scrubbing grout—feels disturbingly clinical. There's no panic, no frantic rush; it's as if this is routine for her. And in a way, it is. Her careful attention to detail and practical advice about bloodstains aren't just practicalities—they speak volumes about Korede’s need for control in a chaotic world.

But is it really about cleaning? Or is it about something much deeper? Korede’s meticulousness suggests she’s trying to impose some sense of order on the madness that surrounds her. It’s her way of trying to control the uncontrollable, to impose normalcy on a life that’s anything but.

Ayoola: The Detached, Carefree Killer

In stark contrast, Ayoola is chillingly casual about the whole situation. “I killed him. I know. It’s just another Tuesday afternoon,” she nonchalantly remarks, as if discussing the weather. This casual approach to murder is more disturbing than the act itself. Ayoola seems utterly detached from the gravity of her actions. While Korede scrubs blood out of grout, Ayoola sits on the toilet, more concerned with her sister’s reaction than with the life she’s taken. It’s a striking portrayal of a deep disconnect—Ayoola is not just indifferent to the killing; she has compartmentalized it, turning murder into a personal habit with no real emotional weight.

What makes Ayoola even more unsettling is her selective memory. When recalling a previous victim, she can’t even remember his last name but easily recalls a poem he wrote for her. This highlights the narcissism at the heart of her character. She holds onto what flatters her—memories that feed her ego—while conveniently forgetting the brutal consequences of her actions. It's a reflection of her deeper detachment, a refusal to confront the reality of the lives she’s taken.

The Symbiotic Relationship Between the Sisters

As the story unfolds, we start to see the disturbing, symbiotic relationship between Korede and Ayoola. Korede is the planner, the one who takes charge. Ayoola, on the other hand, is a passive participant, following her sister’s lead. They make an effective, if incredibly disturbing, duo—like partners in a twisted dance. But what becomes apparent is how much Korede has taken on the burden of protecting her sister, cleaning up the messes that Ayoola leaves behind.

Yet, despite this apparent bond, there's an underlying tension. Korede’s body begins to betray her as the physical strain of her role as caretaker and cleaner manifests itself in a painful crack in her back. This isn’t just a physical ailment; it symbolizes the emotional toll she’s under. It’s as though the weight of Ayoola's actions—and her own complicity—has reached the breaking point.

The Breaking Point: Can Korede Keep Protecting Ayoola?

Will Korede continue to protect her sister, or will she eventually break free from this toxic, self-destructive cycle? As the story unfolds, this becomes the central question. The crack in Korede’s back may very well be a turning point, a sign that she can no longer continue this charade. But even if she does decide to confront Ayoola, what does she have left to cling to?

The complexity of Korede’s character lies in her internal struggle. While Ayoola shows no remorse, Korede is deeply burdened by guilt and responsibility. She feels a misguided sense of duty to protect Ayoola, but is it really protection at this point? Or is it control? Korede may believe she can fix her sister, but what if Ayoola doesn’t even think she’s broken? As Ayoola continues her killing spree, Korede’s internal conflict becomes even more palpable—can she save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?

A Dark, Chilling Reality

The beauty of Braithwaite’s writing is how it makes us think about morality, guilt, and complicity in the most disturbing of ways. Ayoola’s lack of remorse is chilling, but Korede’s role in enabling her sister’s behavior is equally disturbing. As readers, we’re left questioning the true cost of loyalty—what does it mean to protect someone who is so completely detached from their own actions?

The audiobook’s mention of two other victims, AL and Caesar, is just the tip of a very dark iceberg. The fact that Ayoola’s killings seem almost casual—like an afterthought—makes us wonder how many more victims there are and whether Korede will ever be able to stop the cycle.

The Moral Dilemma: Can Korede Break Free?

Ultimately, My Sister, the Serial Killer is about more than just a series of murders. It’s about the complexities of relationships, the dangers of unquestioning loyalty, and the weight of guilt. Korede is stuck in a cycle of enabling, cleaning up, and protecting—but what happens when she can no longer bear the physical and emotional strain? Will she continue to protect Ayoola, or will the crack in her back become a metaphor for her eventual break from her sister’s dark influence?

As the story explores these deep, haunting questions, readers are left grappling with the same dilemmas: How much responsibility do we have for the people we love? How far is too far when it comes to protecting them from their own destructive actions?

Braithwaite’s novel doesn’t offer easy answers, and that’s what makes it so powerful. It forces us to confront the complexities of human behavior—especially when the stakes are as high as life and death.