you have asked, and now you shall recieve
I liked that Curly didn't say anything, the silence was. . . comforting.
But it didn't stay like that for long.
"What the fuck are ya doin', Tim?" He growls.
I take a few more moments of silence before I answer, "I'm just so sorry."
". . ."
"I'm sorry I treat you so bad, it's just that. . . you look just like him."
This seemed to spark Curly's interest.
"I look just like who, exactly?" He asks carefully.
". . ." I didn't wanna say it. I knew I'd start with the waterworks if I did. So I just stayed silent.
"Tim, if yer not gonna do anythin', fuck off." I didn't move, I wanted his comfort.
He tried pushing me, but I held on tight.
"Alright Tim! Get the fuck off!" He struggled harder, but I was holding on tight.
I contemplated what we were doing, and you know what, this moment's kind of bitter-sweet, if you think about it. You know, Curly's enraged, and i'm practically at peace.
In a way, it's sort of like a representation of how I feel for Curly. I love him, and I want to take care of him to be sure he doesn't go through what I went through with our father. . . But at the same time, I hate him, I want him dead, I want him to suffer something way worse than what I went through. W-Why should I be the only one that had to go through that, huh? What did I ever do to deserve that? Look after my younger siblings? Never getting mad when my father forgot my name? Doing everything I was told, no questions asked? Scoring highest in all of my classes? NEVER COMPLAINING WHEN I GET SCREWED OVER? Oh yeah, I was a fucking saint when I was a kid, and all it took for that to change was my stupid obsession with wanting my damn scumbag of a father to love me.
You know what? Curly should have been the one to get man handled by dad. He was the one that always stole from me and Angela. He was the one that always took our parent's attention away from me. HE always did the exact opposite of what he was told! HE was failing all of his classes! HE ALWAYS BITCHED AND WHINED WHENEVER HE DIDN'T GET WHAT HE WANTED! And you know what else he did when he didn't get spoiled? HE DID THE STUPIDEST FUCKING SHIT!
Damn Curly! He is the most selfish, self-centered, spoiled brat!
. . . But, enough of that, i'm starting to rant.
Finally, Curly pushed me onto my back.
"If yer gonna be actin' this weird, ya' might as well check yerself into the loony house, ya fuckin' weirdo." He turned around to leave.
My heart sank as he headed toward the front door. I didn't want him to leave yet! I know I complained about him earlier, but I was at peace when we were hugging. . .
I scrambled to my knees and blurted out, "You remind my of dad." Oh, here it goes, the waterworks. I look like a fucking bawl baby right now.
Curly was just at the door when I said it. He'd turned around and looked at me, confused.
"I look like dad?" He asks, "That's it? That realy fuckin' all?"
I shook my head, struggling to hold back the sobs.
"No," I start, "No, that's not all. . . He. . ." I couldn't continue, I-I just couldn't!
Curly stomps over to me and pushes my shoulder, "Hey, quit it with that cryin' shit," He said flatly, "Answer my fuckin' question."
I take a deep shakey breath, and continue, "Remember how ever since my seventh birthday, me and dad would go into his room and. . . play a "game?"
He nods, "Yeah?" He sais unsurely.
"W-Well, we weren't ever actually playing a game. . . When we were in his room, dad was actually. . ." That's it, I seriously couldn't continue this time.
"Nevermind, Curly," I say, "It's just nothin', I'm just. . . bein' a bitch, I guess."
He stares at me for a while, then he snorts and leaves, slamming the door.
I slug myself back to my room, disappointed in myself for not being strong enough to just come out with it. Throwing myself onto my bed, I lay on my side, curl into fedal position and gentaly rub my the back of my right hand with my left hand. Closing my eyes, I bawl like a big baby. I didn't even bother to keep track of how long I cried, I just. . . cried.
By the time the tears started to slow down, the sun was starting to rise. . . I don't realy feel like getting up today.
I allowed myself to drift to sleep, not sure, yet at the same time, not caring if I ever woke up again.
I was five years old.
My mother was eight and a half months pregnant with my new sibling. I didn't know if it was a boy or a girl yet, but I was excited to find out.
She was taken to the hospital while I was in school. Now, my dad promised that he'd pick me up and take me to the hospital with him if my mother went into labor while I was in school. . . But he didn't show up.
My mother was in labor for three and a half days, (yes, that is possible) and that's how long I was alone at home. I was a little disappointed that my dad forgot about me, and I was way more disapointed that he hadn't noticed my absense for an entire week (because they had to stay in the hospital for a few extra days), but I was overall greatful that I was getting a new Brother or sister.
Finally, after the week had passed, they came back home with my new sister, Angela. I held my arms up for a hug when they walked through the front door that day. . . But they just passed me by without a single glance. . .
A year later, Curly came into the picture, then things realy started to change.
I ended up alone in the house a lot more often. Curly and Angela always demanded attention whenever I was spending time with Mom or Dad. At first, I understood, because they were babies, and babies need a lot of attention. But as they got older, it only got worse. Mom had still payed a little bit of attention to me, but I was practically a stranger to Dad.
I realy started to realize what was going on when one day, when I was five, I was playing around with my mother in the living room. Curly was in his play pen, watching us, almost glaring. Then, out of nowhere, he just stated screaming for mom. She'd told him he could play with dad, but when dad came to pick Curly up, he just wouldn't have it. He didn't stop crying until mom had started playing with him.
So, I tried to play with dad, but when Curly saw, He started screaming for dad.
Are you getting the picture now? I think you are.
. . . I had to practically take care of myself ever since my siblings were born. . .
I woke up panting, crying, sweating like a pig.
That's how I know these flashhbacks are getting worse, I'm remembering things I forgot about a long time ago.
Your memories are just trying to remind you of how useless and pathetic you are.
My breath hitched.
O-Oh no, I'm hearin' voices. I shouldn't be hearin' voices! I-I shouldn't be! Oh man oh man, they're gonna throw me into the funny farm for sure. This can't be happening!
But it is.
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