She was a perfectionist. There were four of us, and none of us were enough for her. She wanted beautiful, successful, normal children. We weren't good enough. We were too flawed- too deformed, too insane, too different. Adelaide was ugly, Beau was a monster, Tate was lost, and me, little Lauriette… Well, shit. I was blind. Perfect kids don't lose their eyes, perfect kids can see. God, I wish I had been enough for her.
She left us all alone whenever she pleased to free herself from the woes of having such awful children. As Tate was the most competent, he became the designated care giver. She'd leave him lists of instructions, what to clean, what to cook, who to put in bed… It was too much for a kid so small. Tate wasn't our mother. He couldn't change Addie and cook dinner and know what Beau and I were doing all at once. And Beau didn't know any better, he didn't mean to knock the pot over, didn't mean for it to burn my eyes.
I wasn't born blind. But, it wasn't Tate's fault. Or Beau's. Constance knew how to twist us, make us blame ourselves. And, boy, could she scream. She was blaming the wrong people, she made me blind. She didn't rush home when Tate called. She didn't take me to the hospital for at least a week, wrapping gauze over my eyes in a blindfold and pretending like it was just some scratch that would go away. She used to call Tate and me perfect, but then she broke us.
Constance never let me out of the house after the accident. She locked Beau up and "homeschooled" me. She didn't want anyone to see her fallen angels. She was the martyr, sacrificing her happiness to take care of the poor blind girl. All I really had was my family. My big brother and I were a short year apart in age, and we had fused together at an early age. There's no one in the world I love more than Tate. He was always there with me, every day when he was out of school. He'd sneak me out of the house, my hand tight in his, and show me the world that I was banished from experiencing. I couldn't see, but I could smell and hear and feel. Tate made sure I was never alone, never lost, never scared. He took care of me like our mother never would. We were happy.
But, then she broke him, too She wanted him to be perfect, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't live up to her standards, and it killed him inside. Blind or not, I can see how fucked up the world we were born into was. I never predicted that he would break on such a large scale, but I knew he was ruined. Beau died, and all the pain and the hate in him pushed down the walls. And we lost him.
Stress Cardiomyopathy. Tako-subo syndrome. Call it what you'd like, I died of a broken heart. The pain after his death was too much for me, and I died mere weeks after. I love my brother more than anything in the world, and it killed me.
We're all dead now. She killed us, one by one. Addie's gone, but the three of us are stuck here forever. The only good thing about being in this god-forsaken house is that, at least, we're still together. When I showed up on the other side, they were there waiting for me.
Was it worth it, Constance? Am I perfect yet?